Roses are Red ...and Welded in Steel

While I enjoy receiving flowers on special occasions, it's always a little sad when they wilt. So for our anniversary a couple of weeks ago, I asked my husband for a steel rose from Spooky Bikes. With Valentine's Day coming up, I thought I'd mention it and post some pictures. These beautiful roses will last, and they make for a lovely way to mark an occasion while supporting a local artisan. I love mine; it is even nicer in person than in pictures.

Spooky Bikes are somewhat of a cult manufacturer, making road, cyclocross and mountain bikes in Bellows Falls, Vermont. I met them at the New England Builders Ball a few months ago and had a chance to see a few of their bikes. The steel roses are a side project, welded by Chris Traverse ("...alone with my cat and my coffee making roses that will make other people smile..."). The majority of proceeds will benefit the Sunset Ranch BMX Park in Western Massachusetts, which Chris established and continues to grow. 

The roses are made of a mild steel, one petal at a time. The petals, hand-tooled leaves and braided weld-wire stem are then TIG-welded. They are available in a raw finish, or dipped in bright red acrylic paint. My rose is the red-dipped version. Only the tips of the petals are dipped in paint, still leaving sections closer to the base raw. The bare steel and the rainbow rings around the welds contrast nicely with the liquid look of the red. It is a dramatic, visually textured combination. The appearance of the flower is natural and organic, not cartoony. 

There is variation in the shape of each petal, each stem, each flower. As it ages, there will be increasing natural colour variation. The steel looks delicate, but feels rather strong.

The roses are available as single flowers ($33), vines ($85), and dozen roses bouquets ($250), in both the raw and the red-dipped finish. Order soon in you want yours to be made in time for Valentines Day. Delight your darling and support our local bicycling craftsmen. A beautiful combination. 

Says welder Chris Traverse: "The look on my friends faces when they pull into the trails to see what's new to ride is the same look on people's faces when they open up one of my roses." Chris has had an interesting history. Read his full statement here. 

Categories: art, framebuilding, holidays, product reviews

Winter 4.0

In the final weeks of 2012 my thoughts were full of everything that's happened over the past year and my dominant emotion was depletion. Two days ago I finally finished making a bicycle frame, and the experience took its toll: Getting so completely absorbed in something at which I am so completely mediocre led me to question my sanity. This train of thought then spread from framebuilding to cycling itself. My progress on the bike has not been impressive by any standard, making it both funny and ridiculous that I am so utterly into it. I also could not help but question what would happen if and when I finally move beyond the constant struggle to both understand the bicycle and master riding it. Will it no longer be absorbing? Will the excitement and wonder eventually fade?

In the midst of all this brooding, it began to snow. It snowed and snowed all through the night, and the next morning I ventured outside. On a Sunday the plowing had been minimal. Side streets crunched with hard-packed snow. Grassy lots offered vast, undisturbed snowscapes. Modest city parks turned into enchanted forests. I wandered around by bike through the preternaturally white landscape. As my face began to tingle from the frost, my head cleared. Slip-sliding my way through the at once familiar and unfamiliar streets, everything began to make sense. I abandoned my attempts to take stock and draw conclusions. I stopped thinking about the past year and started looking forward to the year ahead. This is my fourth winter cycling, and yet everything feels utterly new, utterly exciting.

Happy New Year, everyone. Thank you, as always, for reading.

---

In keeping with the New Year's Eve cocktail tradition, I offer you: 

The First Snow Ride

Ethereal gin

St Germain liqueur

Lindt white chocolate

eggwhite

ice

In a cocktail shaker, mix 2 parts gin and 1 part St. Germaine over ice. Pour (hold the ice) into a cold cocktail glass. Whip 1 eggwhite until super-frothy. Finely shred white chocolate and sprinkle the flakes into the froth. Add mixture to the drink's surface. Serve and enjoy the ride!

Categories: holidays

'Tis the Off-Season

The holiday rush of the city really got to us this year, and we wanted to be some place quiet. So for the days leading up to Christmas, we stayed on Cape Cod. 

And quiet it was. Turns out Provincetown has chosen this winter to repave its roads and fix its sidewalks, so basically the whole town was dug up and closed to motorised traffic. 

But despite the roadwork, many of the businesses remained open, catering to locals and to the occasional visitor. The result was the sort of insular pedestrian small-town atmosphere that has long ceased to exist under normal circumstances. People said hello to each other on the streets. The phrase "How are you?" was interpreted as a question, rather than a greeting, and detailed answers were given. Merely seeing each other walking, or cycling around the town center had created a sense of relaxed familiarity among everyone present, however temporary. 

Even in the busiest, most hectic part of summer, what I like about Provincetown is how relaxed and unaggressive it is. Bikes, pedestrians, cars. Tourists, summer people, locals. Gay, straight, undefined. Somehow, all of these categories are simply combined, without being pitted against each other. They are separated by "and" and not "versus." It's a microcosm that does not reflect the reality of life elsewhere. But at least it shows that, in theory, it's possible for people to function like this. And in the off season, with everyone squeezed into the same couple of bars and coffee shops after hours, this became all the more apparent. 

Last year I mentioned noticing more incidents of aggressive and inattentive drivers over the winter holidays in Boston, and this time around it seems even worse. First it was the rush of last minute Christmas shopping. Now I guess it's the post-Christmas sales. Soon it will be New Year parties. Whatever it is, drivers on the roads just seem so impatient and angry right now. Sure, they might arrive to their holiday parties smiling, saying all the requisite niceties and exchanging beautifully wrapped gifts. But what's the point, if for entire weeks leading up to this they are filled with such stress, that rage is boiling just beneath the surface? I couldn't even feel annoyed at the woman who laid on her horn and shouted when I took too long making a left turn the other day. Obviously something other than me on my bike must have been the real cause of her anger. So I try to be extra cautious on the roads. And I try to not fall into the stress trap myself. No big plans. No pressure. No stress. That's my plan into the New Year.

Categories: Cape Cod, holidays, traffic

Variations on Red and Green

Growing up, red was my mother's favourite colour. And my mother was a tirelessly creative woman back then. She sewed, she knitted, she made things. Consequently I was dressed in red sweaters and coats. I slept under a red patchwork quilt. You get the idea. I did not know how to communicate my dislike for this colour. When I was 3 years old, I was gifted a red tricycle and stunned my parents by breaking into tears at the sight of it. I loved riding that trike. But when no one was looking, little by little I began trying to scrape the paint off. My parents grew concerned and eventually got rid of it. They must have thought I was eating the paint. 

As a teenager, I gravitated toward all things drab. This was the '90s grunge era, so that was easy enough. Army-navy stores, denim, plaid, combat boots. I rode a matte black bicycle then, and even peeled off its bright decals. When asked what my favourite colour was, I did not have an answer. In college I wore black. I made large charcoal drawings. I took black and white photos. 

Sometime in my twenties I saw a weathered old bicycle locked up to a farm gate by the river. It was a lady's bike in the signature English shade of bottle green, and the weak East Anglia sunlight was hitting it just so. The enamel paint had a special quality to it that made it resemble an aged candy wrapper. I saw it and I knew right away that I liked it. As an adult, it was a thrill to learn that I had a favourite colour after all. I began to experiment, to chase after the perfect green. Somewhere between sage, chartreuse and olive, this ideal shade existed and was waiting for me. 

After that I relaxed about colour. Blues and lilacs began to sneak their way into my surroundings, mingling nicely with the greens. Accents of pinks and reds appeared.

A couple of summers ago, I was staying in Vienna and looking to buy a vintage racing bike to bring home. A friend found me the perfect one and took me to see it. It was a bright red Moser. I remembered the trike of my childhood and laughed. "I love the bike, but I hate red." I got the Moser anyway and rode it for two years. It wasn't just red, but an unusual shade of strawberry with a subtle golden sheen to it. Everyone complimented the colour, protesting when I revealed my plan to eventually repaint the frame. "But the red is great, and it's so you!" Soon I began to receive red articles of clothing as gifts. I remembered how, as a child, I hated being known as the girl in the red coat, the girl on the red trike. But now it just struck me as funny. I still dislike red, but I guess I no longer think that's important.

I talk to lots of people about their fantasy bikes, or bikes they are nostalgic for, or bikes that simply stick in their memory for some reason. Red bikes and green bikes are mentioned more than any other kind. The colours play an important role in the story, but for reasons the story teller cannot clearly express. They will just keep repeating that it was a red bike, or a green bike, stressing the colour as if this information is pertinent to how special the bike was. It's not always a straightforward, cohesive story, just like mine is not. I suspect a lot is left out, possibly the most relevant parts. Of course we could break it down to the basics. Colour, motion, emotion. Excitement, tranquility. Stop, go. Red bikes, green bikes. But who wants to see it like that.

Categories: holidays, stories

Big Bike, Tiny Tree

On a rare day off for us both we decided to catch up on some errands, including getting a tree. So we pedaled over to a local tree place. Now that I have this big cargo bike on loan, I toyed with the idea of a real, full sized pine. I imagined the fun of lugging it home. Also, in my crazy little fantasy world, I pictured everyone arriving to the tree place by bike - a procession of longtails, bakfietsen and porteurs transporting all manner of prickly greenery, the length of Somerville Avenue filled with the scent of pine. Naturally a brass band played in the background. 

Then we got to the tree place. And gosh, I don't know, it was so sad. Our lonely bikes surrounded by SUVs in the parking lot. All the cut-down trees stacked up against a rusty fence. There was no way they would all get bought in time for the holidays.  

We hung out for a bit. The place was like a small, dead miniature pine forest amidst an urban landscape. 

Finally, we did the same thing we did last year: bought a small potted pine. It doesn't look very impressive, but on the plus side it will live... maybe.

Which brings me to a dark confession: You see, last year I killed one of these little trees. I didn't mean to! My plan was to remove the decorations after the holidays and keep the tree in the house year-round, to be decorated again the following year. But the tree failed to thrive in our apartment and eventually dried up. This time I will read up on replanting, and hopefully this one will survive. A bicycle ride to the forest is in this little tree's future...

Categories: holidays, Xtracycle

They Don't Make 'Em Like They Used To: a 1946 Griffon & Howle Rando-Broom

Well, dear readers, it's that time of the year again: the Somerville-Salem 30K. Every Halloween, 13 metaphysically gifted women (we do not use the "w" word anymore) from the Greater Boston area are invited to participate in this historic paceline-style flight from Prospect Hill Tower in Somerville, MA to the Olde Burying Point Cemetery in Salem to conduct the annual New England Air Transportation Alternatives (NEATA) meeting. Invitations are sent just days before the event, and no one knows how the selection process works. Imagine what an honor it was to be invited! With mere days to prepare, I rushed about seeking a suitable flying broom. My own broom, I am ashamed to admit, was woefully inadequate: cheap flimsy plastic thing with nylon bristles, and no accessories to speak of. While sufficient for a quick flight around the block once in a blue moon, it was not the right broom for the Somerville-Salem 30K. I asked around, but no one had anything suitable to lend. Custom broom-makers had year-long wait lists. Finally, I heard from a friend deep in the woods of Virginia (you might know him from the comments here as Spindizzy): He had something for me and would mail it straight away.

When I received and opened the package, I could hardly believe my eyes: an original 1946 Griffon & Howle randonneuring broom. Spindizzy had just finished restoring it for a customer, to whose mother - a Ms. Yeumadeen Platchen - the broom had originally belonged. When the customer heard that I had been invited to the Somerville-Salem 30K she offered to loan it out for the flight. What luck! You see, Griffon & Howle were the constructeurs of flying brooms, back in the days when fine craftsmanship and attention to detail truly mattered. They used only the finest wooden tubing, the lightest metal fittings, the softest, most aerodynamic bristles. But more importantly, they fabricated all components and accessories in a manner that truly integrated with the broom itself. To hold a Griffon & Howle is to hold a masterpiece. To fly a Griffon & Howle is a privilege that few experience.

The Griffon & Howle's bristles are organic handbound straw, sourced from the Balkans. Importantly, the rear rack is welded onto the base of the broom, rather than attached via p-clamps or braze-ons. Not only does this provide considerable weight savings, but it is more durable, stable, aerodynamic and elegant. This rack will not shake loose mid-flight. And it looks like it belongs on the broom; it is not an afterthought. 

The main part of the handle is constructed out of standard diameter, thin wall wooden tubing, which has been scientifically proven to provide just the right amount of flex for a responsive in-flight feel. The hand-crafted aluminum potion bottle-holder was painstakingly designed to minimise vibrations. Naturally, the potion bottle itself had to be custom made out of military-grade resistanium, as the potion tends to burn through metal and plastic commercially-available bidons. 

The cork stopper and shellacked twine complete the look.

Unlike today's flashy custom builders, the constructeurs abstained from affixing heavy metal badges onto their brooms. Instead, they simply carved their initials and the broom's serial number into the tip of the handle directly underneath the bell.

And while the brass bell may look ordinary enough to the untrained eye, each one was handmade to emit a ring of a signature frequency. The art of this technique has unfortunately been all but lost. 

The grip area of the handle is wrapped in twine, woven out of the rarest, most durable silken fibres available. While it is popular today to wrap broom handles in cork tape, this really developed as a result of the rarity of the silken fibres, as well as poor fit. Ideally, the gripping area should be firm to the touch, yet not so firm as to cause callouses. Notice the pinky hook at the bottom of the gripping area, designed to keep the hands in place.

The quick release feature makes the broom suitable for travel and transportation in ordinary-sized packages and suitcases - an invaluable feature in today's high security travel climate. Note that, unfortunately, the skewer is a modern replica replacement. The original fitting was damaged when an attempt to steal this broom was made at a rest stop during the 1954 Liege-Sofia-Liege brevet. 

With a twist of the quick-release lever, the broom quickly disassembles. Mounted to the inside of the upper section is a Dragon's kydneystone, the purpose of which I am not at liberty to describe here - though some readers will know. The star-shaped cutout on the lower section is a Griffon & Howle identifier. 

Holding the broom in my hands, the first thing I noticed was how well-balanced it was. Despite the welded rear rack of considerable size, it was not bottom-heavy but balanced in the center. The technique of the old masters was impeccable. The broom was also remarkably light - more so than the modern plastic and nylon creations so many misguidedly use today.

Having examined the broom extensively and marveled at its craftsmanship, it was time to commence my training for the 30k. With only three days left before the event, my plan was to complete a brief 5k flight around Somerville that evening, followed by a more challenging 10k around Boston the following day. After that I would rest before the Somerville-Salem 30K. As I prepared for my training flight, the first step was, naturally, to find a dark corner of the forest, assume the Chant Position, partake of the potion with which my bottle was filled, and utter the relevant Spell. I was amazed at how intuitive this part of the process was with the Griffon & Howle. The broom triangulated with the forest floor perfectly, allowing the Spirits to enter it just so. While my plastic broom required over an hour of chanting to be adequately prepped, the Griffon & Howle took a mere 2 minutes.  

Next, I gently stepped over the broom whilst holding the gripping area and utilising the pinkie hook, and aimed my gaze at the skies, toward the Secret Constellation. Not having done Kundalini Yoga for Broom Flight in some time, my postures were rusty and I was worried that my skills had deteriorated. However, less than a minute into holding the posture I felt the broom begin to levitate. It was working already. 

A well-balanced broom straightens itself out as it levitates, so that eventually it floats parallel to the forest floor. It is then up to the operator to control the angle. There is debate as to which angle is ideal to start with at take-off and maintain during flight, but in the era of Griffon & Howle brooms it was generally believed that a low-trail configuration provided the best handling.

As I prepared to take off, one thing I noticed was that the broom had an unusually short handlebase by current standards. Most likely it was made for a more petite flyer than myself. The operator is meant to occupy the space between the rear rack and the potion bottle (in broom flying jargon, this space is referred to as the perch), and on the Griffon & Howle it was barely long enough to contain me. Were I commissioning a similar broom for myself, I would ask for an extra 2cm or so of perch length.

As an aside on proper positioning: In the media today, we are inundated with fake and ridiculous imagery depicting women perching on brooms in ways that are not only inefficient, but downright unsafe for flight. The position shown here is the only correct one for paceline flying (the transportational position is considerably more upright, but requires a broom that balances differently). It is also important to understand that any images you might see that appear to depict metaphysically gifted women engaged in actual broom flight are fake: We are not legally permitted to capture this activity on film or digitally. To ensure that this rule is adhered to, a masking agent is incorporated into the Flying Spell that prevents photo and video equipment from recording the operator in flight. As the broom and operator take off, they remain visible to the human eye of bystanders, but cannot be captured by recording equipment of any kind. And so this is the last image I am able to leave you with prior to take-off. 

I can hardly describe my impressions of the 5k maiden voyage without getting emotional. Put simply, I had not known until now what I had been missing all these years of awkward, uninspired flights on cheap and ill-fitting brooms. The Griffon & Howle soared joyously though the skies. Responsive to my movements, it steered intuitively and soaked up air turbulence effortlessly. My heart skipped a beat, as I felt that this broom truly planed. 

For the 10k training flight the next day (yes, I ventured out during Hurricane Sandy!), I added a pannier and wore a raincoat. The pannier was just the right width for the rear rack and there was no heel strike during take-off. The wonderful feel of the flight remained as I remembered it. The fit and the handling were so perfect that, put simply, the broom "disappeared" beneath me. And this, as Griffon & Howle were famous for opining, is the very definition of a well-made flying broom.

After a day of rest, I feel well prepared for the Somerville-Salem 30k this evening and am very much looking forward to the New England Air Transportation Alternatives (NEATA) meeting. I really can't thank Spindizzy and his customer enough for loaning me the Griffon & Howle and for allowing me to document it here for my readers. While I recognise that this is a bicycle blog and not a broom blog, I can't help but feel there might be some common ground here.

For anyone interested, Spindizzy (aka Jon Gehman) does offer complete broom restoration services, as well as custom bicycle racks and other cool and weird accesssories. The full set of pictures of the original 1946 Griffon & Howle randonneuring broom can be viewed here. Happy Halloween everyone!

Categories: handmade, holidays, product reviews, silliness, vintage

Independent

Be it food, furniture, clothing or bicycles, there is nothing quite like getting things made by people we know and trust. I am lucky to live in a pocket of the US that has a long history of an independent bicycle industry, and luckier still to interact with some of its members. On the occasion of Independence Day, I would like to feature these people here and invite you to have a look at their work.

When I first met Mike Flanigan of ANT, he was introduced to me as "the godfather of the transportation cycling revolution." Long before Dutch bikes and retrofitted Porteurs began gracing the streets of trendy American cities, Mike was making sturdy roadsters and cargo bikes for his customers under the slogan "Not sport, transport." He made custom loop frames at a time when no other framebuilder saw it as worth their while to offer step-through frames for women. He educated the new generation of local frame builders about the value of transportation bicycles and continues to share his knowledge with them generously. Today Mike also offers framebuilding classes, which have become extremely popular. Every year he donates a cargo bike that is raffled off at the Redbones Bike Party and Benefit in Somerville. There are other builders now making transport bicycles and plenty of mainstream manufacturers as well. But there is still nothing quite like an original ANT bike.

Of course the new generation makes it look so easy. It's not for nothing that Geekhouse Bikes founder Marty Walsh is known as "party Marty" - combining work and fun is their MO. Or rather, they do not see a distinction. Making colourful bikes that range from track to touring to townie, the boys of Geekhouse work tirelessly on their unique frames and have inhouse powdercoating facilities to boot. Hip segmented forks? Bottle cage braze-ons shaped like lightning bolts? Sparkly powdercoat? They are the ones to see about that. Geekhouse also connect with the local community, collaborating with their peers and encouraging innovation. Most recently they've leased a large space to be developed and shared by local artisans, which is looking more and more exciting each time I visit.

Though still a relative newcomer to the framebuilders' scene, Bryan Hollingsworth of Royal H. Cycles can make pretty much anything, I am convinced of that now. A carbon fiber fabricator at Seven Cycles, his true passion is lugged steel and he has been building frames under his own name for the past three years. I was one of his first customers and watching Bryan work was what inspired my own interest in frame design. After successfully collaborating on a one-off randonneur project last year, this summer we are taking it up a notch and trying to develop a do-it-all mixte model.

Another Seven Cycles veteran, Mike Salvatore of the so-called Sketchy Cycles is the framebuilders' framebuilder and a man of mystery. There is no website. There is no order process. There is no price list. Working by candlelight in the company of his enormous pet rabbit, Mike builds frames mostly for friends and only when the mood strikes him. But the deceptively modest-looking bikes are known to have magical properties. Those who own a Sketchy - and it's quickly becoming a cult of sorts - only smile mysteriously when asked what makes these bikes so special. Will the rest of us ever know? We can only dream.

Speaking of dreams, I certainly felt as if I was in the midst of one when I stumbled unexpectedly upon Cantabrigian Mechanics - the shop of Ricky DeFrancisco - earlier this year. What do they make? That is a little difficult to describe, because the answer is "everything." In a sense they are ghost builders - making bicycle frames and parts of frames, and also objects that have nothing to do with bicycles at all, for manufacturers whose names might be quite familiar to you. Intrigued? It may be possible to satisfy our curiosity soon, as Cantabrigian Mechanics are now developing a house brand called Commonwealth Cycles.

The art of fillet brazing is on the rise in Boston and I am infatuated with the fledgling work of Nao Tomii of Tomii Cycles - a sculptor who, after years of learning the trade, has recently become a full time framebuilder. Nao's bicycles look effortless, liquid and floaty as he combines technical precision with an artist's eye. I will have more pictures of his work featured here soon, and this is surely a builder to watch closely.

Another new fillet brazer of note is Armando Quiros of Quiros Custom Frames. A favourite of the fixie-loving crowd, Armando has won awards for his track bike builds and admiration for his sharp urban commuters.

I met the legendary Christopher Igleheart at a local bicycle show a year ago and was lucky enough to test ride a bike of his. Making many kinds of bicycles, from mountain to randonneuring to city, Igleheart is about lightweight steel, long-distance comfort, and quirky touches. His experience in the industry is vast and his customers rave about his bicycles' ride quality. An old school local favourite. 

Seven Cycles are the folks who turned me on to titanium and opened my mind to an aesthetic I was not predisposed to like. There are not many independent bicycle factories left in the US, and I feel incredibly lucky to live just 6 miles from one, to be able to visit it, to know most of the people who work there. Seven Cycles sponsor many local events, as well as several cycling teams. I am still waiting for them to come out with a belt-drive titanium loop frame...

There are other local builders whom I haven't had the honour to visit and photograph, but would like to mention: Peter Mooney, Firefly, Circle A, Chapman Cycles, Ted Wojcik, Independent Fabrications, Parlee, JP Weigle. If there are others I have omitted, please remind me and I will include them.

In stark contrast to the framebuilders, as far as accessory makers we admittedly have a shortage. But Emily O'Brien's famous Dill Pickle Bags - not to mention her personality and fixed gear randonneuring adventures - certainly help make up for this. I made Emily's acquaintance recently and have one of her remarkable bags on loan, which I am now reluctant to return.

Thank you for reading along. I admit that I am proud of our local bicycle industry, and I try to do my best to feature its members here. What is it like in your area? Please feel free to mention your favourite frame builders, component manufacturers, and accessory makers, and post links so that readers might visit them. Enjoy your 4th of July weekend!

Categories: Boston, framebuilding, holidays

The Bobbin Birdie Flies to Iowa!

I hope that everyone is having a nice Valentine's Day - either celebrating it, ignoring it, or doing something delightfully un-Valentinesy, whatever your persuasion. 

But what will the red Bobbin Birdie be doing, you might ask? She will be spending the evening packing her bags, for soon she will fly to her new human friend in the Midwest. I would like to announce that the winner of the Valentine's Day Give-Away and the recipient of the Birdie is Audrey W., whose submission I repost below:

The photo is a little fuzzy, but a close look reveals details that struck me as both sweet and meaningful. On the right is a picture of a heart shaped wheel in a truing stand. And the poem on the left reads:

"true love

discouraging, tiresome
amassed frustrations
quick release–
escape
restore sanity?

true love, loyal to
youth, to health, to
the beating-
heart

celebrating curves,
bearing pain and
bliss–
eternal"

Though not as sleek in presentation as some of the other entries, the impact of Audrey's card stayed with me, and many readers reported the same effect in their feedback. 

Audrey is involved in the Bike Library in Iowa City, where she and the Birdie should feel right at home as a couple. Please join me in congratulating Audrey on her new bicycle! 

I would like to thank everyone who submitted their poetry and art for this give-away (see the 15 finalists here). Your work brought joy to lots of readers, and I hope there is some satisfaction in that. Thank you also to those who gave feedback about their favourite entries; I read all the comments and they definitely influenced my decision. Finally, I would like to express my appreciation to the fellows at Forth Floor - the North American distributor of Bobbin Bicycles - for sponsoring this give-away with no stipulations or strings attached. As always, thank you everyone for reading, and a lovely evening to all!

Categories: art, give-away, holidays

They Think You're Eccentric

"I don't want to go around in a car all the time.  I don't think it's healthy.  But if they see you walking on a road out there, they think you're eccentric."

These words were uttered by "Little Edie" Beale, the reclusive cousin of Jacqueline Kennedy, as an explanation for why she finally decided to sell the dilapidated Long Island estate Grey Gardens where she'd been holed up for decades with several dozen cats.The irony of this statement coming from her aside, there is undoubtedly a truth to it.

As a teenager in a New England suburb in the 1990s, I was among the very few students in my high school who did not drive. My boyfriend was another such anomaly. We walked home from school together almost every day and it was just under 3 miles, taking us down the main street that stretched through the center of town and then along a woodsy park road that wound around a lake. I remember these walks vividly, because together with the scenery and the endless deep conversations there was always a degree of dread mixed into it. Everything would be wonderful until someone would drive by and shout something nasty at us. It could be students from the school or it could be adults from town, and the harassment usually varied from random hooting to things like "Whatsamatta kid, too poor to drive your girl to the woods?" On occasion, even a police car would slow down to make sure we weren't up to no good - just because we were walking.

While mostly we were okay with all of this and even found it funny, it would be a lie to pretend it did not get to us on some level. One Valentine's Day we got into an argument, because we wanted to go for ice cream, but both secretly dreaded the idea of walking or riding our bikes there - kind of difficult to maintain a romantic mood while getting harassed. When I think back on this, the absurdity of it overwhelms me. But that's really how it was in our town, at least in the 90s.

In the American suburbs getting around other than in a car is not normal, and I think we underestimate the extent to which this social element is an obstacle to walking and cycling. The majority of people do not wish to be perceived as poor, eccentric, or even "different" as they go out for ice cream on Valentine's Day.

Categories: holidays, social commentary, stories

A Give-Away for Valentine's Day

Roses are red and so is this bike
- which could soon be yours if you like!
For on this coming Valentine's day
it shall be promptly given away.

"What is this bike?" you might inquire,
"with its bright red frame and old-fashioned tire?"
In reply I guide you to
this Bobbin Bicycles Birdie review.

The lovely loop frame and the lugs
will surely elicit passionate hugs.
And as the cupid's arrow nears
you've got the Sturmey Archer gears.
For yourself or for your darling
a shiny red bike is oh so charming!

From England it traveled by land and by sea
to Boston's Harris Cyclery,
and from thence it shall be sent
to that person for whom it is meant.

For a chance this bike to recieve
a velo-Valentine you must conceive,
in the US you must reside,
and by the guidelines below abide:

-------------------------------------------
Guidelines for the Bobbin Birdie Give-Away:

Submission Procedure: Create and submit a bicycle-themed Valentine. Your Valentine can be intended for a real person, for a fictional or hypothetical person, for your bicycle, for any other bicycle, or for anyone or anything really (except for me) - as long as it is in some way bicycle themed. The Valentine may consist of text and/or image (no video, no audio). If your Valentine is text only, please submit it directly in the comments here. If your Valentine is an image, upload it and post the link in the comments (if you have nowhere to upload it to, email it to "filigreevelo[at]yahoo[dot]com" with the subject "Velo-Valentine").  Be sure to include your email address in the comment when submitting your Valentine. One submission per person please.

Submission deadline is Thursday, February 9th 2012, 11:59pm Pacific time. Recipient will be announced on Valentine's Day (February 14th, 2012).

Eligibility: Entrants must reside in the continental USA. Entrants may be of any gender, and may be getting the bicycle for themselves or for a loved one. Entrants should be readily reachable via email. This bicycle is best suited for persons 5'3" - 5'8", please use your judgment.

Selection criteria: Selection will be made on the basis of the Valentine, assuming that eligibility criteria are met. Any Valentine submitted may be publicly viewable and there will be reader input in the selection process.

This give-away is made possible via Forth Floor Distribution - the North American distributor of Bobbin Bicycles. Many thanks to them for donating this beautiful bike, and to everyone for taking part!

Categories: give-away, holidays, loop frame, silliness