Pets at Work

Every time I visit Circle A Cycles, I sift through my pictures of the shop afterward only to discover that they are mostly cat portraits. But who can blame me, when they have such a fabulous shop cat. BT's job is mainly reception, customer service and PR. When it comes to being petted, she is an equal-opportunity practitioner - diligently making her way from one visitor to another, ensuring that everyone gets their fair share of stroking her silky fur and scratching her velvety ears. When this task is done, she slinks around delicately amidst the machinery, inspecting the quality of her colleagues' work. 

I've tried to invite my own cats into my workspace. There was that one time I attempted to have them in the same room while I painted. Minutes later, they'd already managed to dip their little paws into some paint, and were now proceeding to spread it around the entire room while swatting brushes off of shelves and batting at jars of turpentine playfully. Oh how I paid for their visit with hours of cleanup. Oh how they squirmed and squealed as I quarantined them in the bathtub and scrubbed their paws with soap.  

On another occasion, I tried to scan negatives around my whiskered friends. Their curiosity in this task made the scanning process unnecessary, since the strip of negatives was quickly rendered unusable. 

Working on bikes in the same room is excitingly risky. They are intensely interested and make a show out of being very good, so that I allow them to be there. And they are good, up to a point. Until a particularly attractive part catches their eye and they challenge each other to a soccer match. The speed and elegance with which they can cause damage are admittedly impressive.

I can work from home on my laptop, but just barely. The cats like to stealthily make their way onto the table and slowly wrap themselves around the keyboard, until both my wrists are resting on some part of cat and my typing is constricted. "At least help me type if you're going to do that," I try to reason with them. They ignore me, purring triumphantly. Later a friend explained that this really is their way of helping me write: The purring functions as a metronome of sorts that helps me keep rhythm and type faster. Shop cats they are not, but perhaps I underestimate their value as office cats. 

Categories: cats, framebuilding

Finding Magic in Our Own Back Yard

It was almost a year ago that I first saw it. Making my way home through a tangle of unexplored back roads, I found myself on a tiny side street near Porter Square in Cambridge. Brick sidewalks, Victorian houses, overgrown yards, overarching tree branches. It was getting dark and I rode right past the mysterious structure just as I caught a glimpse of it out of the corer of my eye. It was like something out of a fairy tale. I told myself that I would return the following day to have a better look. And I tried - but for the life of me, I could not find the street again. I retraced my steps and criss-crossed the little neighbourhood several times, but to no avail. Eventually I gave up, wondering whether my tired mind could have imagined it. ...Until two days ago, when quite by accident I found myself on the same little street again and suddenly there it was: A tiny house, fashioned from a hollowed-out tree trunk. 

Now that I had more time to examine it, it was even better than I remembered. There was a shingled roof with a weathervane on top. The interior was carved out neatly to form a cozy chamber just large enough to fit a child or an adult in a crouching position. Inside were stacks of children's books, as well as a guest book where visitors left each other messages. There was no indication that the tree house was privately owned; it seemed to be intended for public access.

And as I stuck my head in, it turned out I was not the only visitor. In the corner sat a small cat. Her mottled brown coat blended in with the inside of the tree and I had not noticed her there in the dark. I was doubly taken aback, because at first glance it appeared the cat was reading. But upon closer examination she was just grooming her paw on top of an open book. Her routine interrupted by my presence, the cat jumped out and began circling the tree in a proprietary manner, making communicative chirping sounds each time she passed me.

A woman and her grandson walked by and were equally intrigued by the scene. They assumed the cat was mine and that I'd brought her in my bicycle bag. But I explained that the cat was probably the owner of the tree house. It seemed like a reasonable enough conclusion. The boy climbed inside to look at the books and the cat interacted with all of us - jumping in and out of the tree, circling, and chirping.  She did not appear to be disturbed by our presence; it was more like she was trying to talk to us.

This time around I remembered the location and later did some investigating. Turns out the structure is modeled after Winnie the Pooh's House. It's a book and diary exchange for the neighbourhood children. Created by local furniture artist Mitch Ryerson, the house was carved from the trunk of a silver maple that was knocked down in a winter storm fifteen years ago. Since then it's become a secret local landmark.

The neighbourhood we live in is made up of lots of tiny pocket neighbourhoods that are really their own little worlds. It still amazes me how often I stumble upon new things here, especially of an unusual or mysterious nature. More often than not it happens when I am out on my bike - looking for short cuts, or for a shady route away from the sunny main road. Finding a bit of magic in our own back yard is par of the course when traveling on two wheels.

Categories: Boston, Brompton, cats, stories

Cycling with Cat: from Absurdity to Reality

By now many of you are familiar with our cat Peppy. She occasionally comments on this blog and even has her own twitter account. And no, I do not help her with that (though I have my suspicions who does). Although online she can come across as argumentative, in reality Peppy is an exceptionally friendly and sociable cat. And she is fond of flowers and bicycles, sniffing them with interest every chance she gets. This makes me daydream of cycling through the meadows, with her in a basket enjoying the fresh air.

Ever since we got her though, Peppy has been agoraphobic. No sooner would we take her outdoors than she would howl to be let back into the house. She also did not react well to wearing a harness. All of that is common with cats: They are not typically considered walkable, let alone bicycle-portageable.

We had pretty much resigned ourself to thinking of Peppy cycling as an absurdity, realisable only in our imaginations. Then this Spring she surprised us by developing an active curiosity in the outdoors. Noticing that she was spending a lot of time sitting on the windowsill and straining to sniff the fresh air, we tried the harness again... and somehow this time it was okay. So we took her outside. At first she panicked as usual, but eventually she was fine as long as we stayed very close to the house and the front door remained open. She relaxed and began sniffing around, enjoying herself.

We've done this several times now and each time she seems to like it more - to the point that she has started to scratch at the door asking to be taken out, donning the harness willingly. So I'm thinking, next step: bicycle basket. My plan is to procure one of those animal baskets with a fully enclosed wire dome and get her used to sitting in it. Then once she is comfortable in there, I will mount it on the bike and off we'll go. Not so long ago this seemed completely unattainable, but the way she is acting now I honestly think it might work. 

[image via Adeline Adeline]

The basket I was thinking of is the front-mounted Pluto model from Basil. The Pilen test-ride bicycle was given to me with a heavy duty front rack that I have not attached (because it's heavy and the bike is already 47lbs!). Now I am considering attaching it and then mounting this basket. However, the Basil basket has its own attachment mechanism and it may be a clumsy solution. There is also this one from Nantucket Baskets. It seems simpler, but I think it is too small for the likes of Peppy. As far as I know, there are no other commercially available front-mounted bicycle pet baskets with wire enclosures.

[image via ~jitahs~]

Possibly the nicest animal transport system I have seen so far is this one by "GR Jim." At first I thought the little Dachshund was amazingly well behaved to be staying put like that, but it turns out she is on a leash that's tethered to the wire roof.  With my cat I would need full enclosure, and it would also make me feel better to have the basket in front where I can see her.

[image via Dorthe Alve Olsen and Copenhagen Cycle Chic]

Lest you think the idea of cycling with your cat in a basket is totally unrealistic, Todd from CleverCycles tells me that he's done it multiple times. Has anybody else cycled with their cat (or any other pet) successfully? Would love to know your method and container recommendation. 

Categories: basket, cats

Perfect Just the Way You Are

In describing my experience in a paceline training ride earlier, I had written that my Rivendell was not the right bike for that ride. Subsequently, I've received some suggestions for how to make it faster - including getting narrower tires, installing "brifters," removing the saddlebag, rack and fenders, and stripping off the dynamo lighting. While I appreciate the advice and agree that all of that may indeed improve my paceline performance, I do not plan to make any changes to this bicycle. Right now, I have a bicycle that is perfect for me as a touring bike. Why turn something that's perfect for one activity into something that's okay but not ideal for another?

In stating that my Rivendell was not the right bike for a racing team-sponsored paceline ride, I was by no means criticising it or expressing unhappiness with it. I was merely reiterating a simple fact: Touring bikes are not racing bikes.

A touring bicycle is about exploration and about experiencing one's surroundings. You cannot do that when cycling 6" behind someone's rear wheel at 20mph.

A touring bike is about the long haul and about going at one's own pace.  I use the computer as a handlebar-mounted clock and odometer more than I use it as a speedometer - because "how far" is a more interesting question for this bike than "how fast."

A touring bike is about the freedom of going anywhere, without having to cultivate the handling skills of a pro racer. Comfortable geometry and stable handling enable novice and experienced cyclists alike to ride. My bicycle is easy, and its wide, cushy tires make me immune to most of the fears that plague cyclists on modern roadbikes: potholes, rain, sand, uneven terrain - bring them on. I can even wear nice clothing while I'm at it, because the fenders will protect me from road grime. And with my bright, dynamo-generated lights I can cycle through the night and not worry about batteries.

A touring bike is a home away from home. In my saddlebag, on the day this picture was taken I carried: a large DSLR camera, a sweater, a hat, an apple, a notebook, a fountain pen, a bar of chocolate, a saddle cover, gloves, sunscreen, a lock and a mini pump. And that's nothing compared to what I could have brought had I also attached my handlebar bag. Setting off on a racing bike limits you to a training ride and nothing more. On a touring bike a ride can start out as one thing and morph into another. Groceries can be involved, or a spontaneous visit to a friend's house. Who knows!

Riding a touring bike is an organic experience. My Rivendell's steel, brass, canvas, leather, twine, shellac and rubber fit harmoniously with its riding style and with my enjoyment of exploring nature. It is not about competing with nature with ever-more-efficient materials and aerodynamic postures, but about simply existing.

In turning this bicycle into a performance-oriented bike, I would essentially be giving up the very things that make it special. And that would be a shame.

Sure, we may be curious about pacelines and racing.

But not at the expense of smelling the flowers. Some bicycles are perfect just the way they are.

Categories: cats, fenders, Rivendell, roadcycling