Bikes Outside: Schweet Home Chicago

This week's Bike Outside is no less than an American icon. The "Electro-forged" Chicago Schwinn is the bicycle equivalent of a slant six Dodge: Ubiquitous in its day, by no means the fastest or the lightest of its kind out there, but sturdy as hell. It's overbuilt and under-appreciated. When a post-apocalyptic mutant runs out of gasoline to power its 1970 Dart, it can pull an intact 1970 Schwinn from the nearest bomb crater and pedal onward.


I found this bike chained to a railing on Farmington Ave in Asylum Hill. Judging from the extended paintless area on the frame of this bike, it has been chained thusly thousands of times. This and the rest of the paint layer surface strata make this beater a patina powerhouse. It wears the scars of a lifetime of hard usage without fanfare or apology. If terms like unassuming and badass can coexist in a single place, they can do so on this bike. It's also old-school all the way. I like the cloverleaf chainwheel, the alloy quill stem and the stem shifter. The upright handlebars and skinny chain guard make it look more like an old 3-Speed at a distance until you spot the derailleur out back. The "mattress" style saddle has seen better days, making this a short-trip bike for all but those with the hardiest posteriors. A front caliper has gone AWOL, leaving a lonely left brake lever behind and continuing the widespread Hartford tradition of one missing/malfunctioning brake.

This was another instance where a bike's owner came out as I was photographing it. The fender-equipped Schwinn has served as his foul-weather beater for the past few decades while his nicer Fuji comes out when the weather is nice. We had a good time talking bikes and such until I remembered that I had already been running late before I stopped to bike bond. I've forgotten his name (I'm terrible at remembering names) but I'll probably catch up with him at his store one of these days when I have more time. Nice guy.

The basic idea of this bike has been recreated in Schwinn's current retro lineup as the "Willy" with some welcome updates to the gearing (twist-grip 7-speed vs. stem shifted 5-speed) and brakes (which now stop the bike when applied). Schleppi's Jenny is its femme counterpart.

These Chicago-made bikes rode the final wave of the American bicycle industry before it crashed on the shores of the Malaise Era and retreated overseas. An affordable, decent domestic bike for everyday people became the stuff of tag sales and flea markets after that. Luckily, bikes like this will be around for decades to come. They will outlast us all. This Schwinn is just plain solid.

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Places with no snow

So, I guess Hartford isn't the only place that suffers from a lack of snow.

I was reading Jill Homer's blog, where she's giving some play by play on the Alaska Ultrasport (Iditarod for bikes), and she's describing the lack of snow in a section of this year's race. While global warming is obvious a hoax (just kidding!), that image gives a skeptic pause.

It's also weird to read that a lack of snow makes the race even more difficult (See Feb. 27).

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No particular place to go

We've been having weird weather lately. All of my typically visited spots are wet and gross, because in Hartford we're in some kind of doughnut hole (unrelated to Medicare Part D). There was an article about the lack of snow in Hartford, but the ring of heavy snow around us in the Courant, but I'm unable to find it. The article called it a snow doughnut hole. I wasn't creative enough to mint the term.

Anyway, the weird weather makes me not want to ride for very long, because rain in the 30s gets you sick. Actually, I was already sick last week, so I guess I didn't want to get worse. So, I've just been pedaling around neighborhoods trying not to get rained on. On Friday, I rode down to Wethersfield and then all this sleet started to fall on me. While it was intense and cool looking, it made me want to go home.

On Saturday, I went to the bank, but via the Cigna/Met Life campus. It was reminded of high school, because I spent a lot hanging out in office complexes. Tobacco fields, too. I prefer office complexes because I find corporate architecture pretty.


On Sunday, I attempted to ride at the Reservoir, but even my newly beloved Racing Ralphs can't ride through six inch deep wet snow (35mm is too wide to cut down to traction and far to narrow to float on top). Although, slogging through that crap was formidable exercise, even if other trail users think you're a moron.



In closing, I hope Spring comes for real soon and firms up the earth, because if my side yard is any indication, the world continues to be impassable on a bike. Read more!

Bikes Outside: 400 Club

This Monday's Bike Outside features an old school Trek that was found locked to one of the several improvisational bike racks surrounding La Paloma Sabanera on Capitol Ave. The corner of Capitol and Babcock has long been a cool bike-spotting place. I routinely see bikes dating from the 1960's to today locked up outside while their owners nosh and caffeinate.

The lugged frame of this Trek 400 has an early 80's look and feel to me. A very quick glance at the Vintage Trek website seemed to point to 1984. The Sugino crankset and quill stem could certainly pass for that era, but the remainder of the components have been modernized. That said, the modern 9-speed cassette and derailleur, v-rims and such don't look particularly out of place on this bike. The 400 was by no means Trek's flagship model, so people can feel free to modify them without fear of compromising a potential museum piece. They have great potential for the building of solid daily riders with bonus vintage flair.

I'm partial to Treks. One of my cousins in Brooklyn was an early adopter, riding a Trek in the late 70's and early 80's before replacing it with a gorgeous red Eddy Merckx. A far more prosaic Trek was my Father's last bike, so the marque has sentimental value for me. This bike sports a similar early logo and head badge style to my cousin's long-ago mount, so the nostalgia is strong with this one. The paint and graphics are in nice, original shape. It really is a good looking bike.


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The Holy Grail

This past Sunday morning, with an inadequate night's sleep behind me and a pair of cargo bikes crowding the bed of a borrowed pickup (thanks Prez!) I made my way toward Dudley Mass at the crack of still-freaking-dark-out. As tired as I was, it was definitely a morning well spent. I sold very little, bought a bit more, and generally had a good time checking out cool old bikes and chatting it up with other bike people. I saw several people I have met over the years in the New England vintage scooter and motorcycle scene. Two wheels good!

Things had gotten pretty slow by noon and we started to pack up. With everything loaded, I wandered back in for a farewell lap through the Do-Right flea market to have one more look at the items for sale and their modern indoor plumbing. There were still a few bike vendors lingering into the early afternoon as well. Toward the back of the huge building, there was a room full of classic bikes that I think had been up for auction. Most of them were swoopy American balloon tire bikes, with a few British 3-speeds and a few earlier antique bikes thrown in for good measure. The old bikes lined up on the freshly refinished battered 19th century factory floor made for an especially pleasing scene. I could dwell happily in a space like that.

I spotted the remains of a Pope-built Columbia headtube badge and zoomed in for some macro shots of a Hartford hometown favorite. It wasn't until I backed away that I realized that this rusty old bike was none other than my grail, the pinnacle of my dream bike wantyness, an unrestored genuine Hartford-built Columbia Chainless! I hunkered down and leaned in for an extra-close look, taking care not to further corrode it with drool enzymes. It was in rough shape to be sure: rusted all over, tires rotting off of deformed wooden rims, and a pair of latter-day cottered cranks and pedals looking decidedly out of place. The wood and metal framework was all that remained of the seat, but it was there, which was good. The drive side was facing the wall, so I didn't get as detailed a look at the bevel-geared drive shaft as I would have liked, but it was still pretty damned cool. Nobody was around the bike, and the roll of raffle tickets on the handlebar offered no clues about its story. I pulled myself away from the stately machine and made my way home. I like to think I will have a chance to see it again someday.


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Fenderella

WAY BEFORE:
No fenders on the everyday bike. Quite often, back of coat or backpack coated in mud. Not unheard of to get some dirt on face, specifically, in mouth. Once, got bits of mud on ivory-color dress while riding to art opening because there was a puddle that wanted to be ridden through. Except for the dress incident, perceived this all as an exercise in building character.

IMMEDIATELY BEFORE: Functional SKS fenders that were plain black and boring. At least they weren't navy blue.


AFTER:

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Bikes Outside: Snow Goose

This morning's Bikes Outside features a Mongoose MGX locked up in front of an apartment building across the street from the Broad Street Community Garden. It was just accumulating snow last Tuesday, but the owner could have been having all sorts of fun riding around a snowy park instead. I have a hardtail Mongoose mountain bike frame that I started making into a ghetto 96er snow bike for that very purpose, but it has been a low priority. That has already been named Snowgoose, but mine is an open nomenclature and I'm willing to share.

Mongoose is a brand that lost their way the past decade or two. There was something solid and straightforward about them back in the day, but more recent models seem to be all about flash and hype. There seems to be a lot of stuff written on this bounce bike's frame--perhaps a bit more than the world needs to know. It's like the bike equivalent of tuner-style cars with Eibach, Toyo,"powered by Honda," et cetera plastered all over. Part of me wants to replace the "Powered by SRAM" decal with "Powered by legs" or some other admittedly prosaic but more accurate slogan. With tubing this large, I suppose designers felt compelled to fill up some of the space, but they could have gone in more interesting directions. How about a series of photos? Perhaps Haiku...

I spent the first half of yesterday at the Dudley bike swap meet sharing a table with Erik. The booth next to us specialized in vintage BMX bikes, so in among the Hutches, GTs and Thrusters were a few of the looptail Mongoose frames I would have liked to own as a kid (not as much as I wanted a "Tri-Power" Thruster, mind you, but neat bikes just the same)

Here's my brilliant marketing idea for the day: I think that if Mongoose, or any of the 1980's BMX superpowers started selling reasonably well-made 26" bikes that were essentially scaled-up vintage 20" BMX bikes, they would sell like hotcakes. The nostalgic force is strong with the thirtysomething demographic, and people have done far more ridiculous things to harken to their youth. A 130% sized BMX bike sounds ridiculous, because, well, it is, but I still kind of want one now.


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Not quite Italian

I've been noticing a trend in Craigslist classified ads to declare any bike with name ending in "i" or "enze" Italian, which in most cases is akin to calling a Pontiac Lemans French. What's in a name? Well, in this vein, I finally built up the Bianchi frame that began hanging around my basement this summer. While Japanese made and therefore not as authentic as Brendan's Colon-ago, it does rate over those Craigslist beauties by actually coming from an Italian company, for what that's worth.

I think this is a pretty bicycle

Well, it seems after attempting to get the trains running on time, shouting tora, tora, tora, and generally being bombed into submission, the old Axis powers finally teamed up to produce a very nice bike. Made of a Bianchi spec'd Tange tubeset, this light blue lady sports a stretched-out, relaxed-geometry wheelbase and just plain rides nicely. After my dissatisfaction with the ill fitting Shogun, I am once again very much at peace with the world old older bikes that can be obtained on the cheap. In this case, $30 for frame, fork, headset, seatpost, and some other bits I didn't use.

Of course, for $450, I could have had a Firenze GL5000?
(Actually, I did at one point; it was rescued from a dumpster but it never stopped being complete rubbish.)

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Cool stuff surrounds my place of work.

This blog is not really an arbiter of cool stuff, because, well, we're not that cool. All the fixed gear bikes or cyclocross (or whatever else is cool in cycling) in the world won't help. However, I like to think that I know cool stuff when I see it. As a public service to those of you in and around downtown Hartford, I'm writing to inform you of two cool things within walking distance of each other tomorrow night.

1) 6pm-8pm Dawn Holder and her cool sculptures at the main branch of the library (500 Main Street) Dawn's art is awesome. And, to make it bike related, she rides a bike pretty well.

2) 8pm Andrew WK (along with Ninjasonik & The Rizzla) at the Wadsworth (600 Main Street).

Remember, don't stop living in the red.

Oh yeah, this is all free! Read more!

If this bike is wrong, I don't want to be right.

I've been reading and responding to the forum at Velocipede lately, largely so I can reasonably make use of their classified section with out being a complete douchebag, which I suppose makes me something of a douchebag. Well, someone posting there asked about putting a 130mm axle rear wheel in an old winter beater bike spaced at 126mm. A frame builder and others replied with comments regarding frame alignment, H-tools, and maybe something about a duck (I'm not sure), but this douchebag jumped in with the following point: "winter beater."

Bikes can be detailed, precise machines, but another of their graces is that they don't have to be. If you eyeball the valve lash on an internal combustion engine it will produce awful noises--for a only very short while--but I've enjoyed fantastic shifting for years on bikes with eyeball-straightened rear derailleur hangers. So much can be awful and wrong with a bike and it will still serve the purpose of propelling you faster than you can walk, maybe even in greater comfort.

Case in point: my commuter, errand, rack, general transportation bike. It was rescued some years back from the metal heap at a town dump. Flat tires, seized chainring bolts, missing cables, and all, it made the five mile trip home along side me while I pedaled my other bike and held on to the orphan's stem. Sure, it needed some work, but with mostly salvaged parts I had a nifty new bike with a stiff made in the USA frame that didn't flex much even with a heavily loaded rack.

10,000+ miles of wear

The years passed, and so did the miles. Things wear, and wear, and then wear some more, but it is a bike and still faster than walking. With likely over 10,000 miles on the drivetrain, I decided to finally put on some less worn parts, not so much because it no longer worked, but more because I have a pile of scrap aluminum that the spiky chainring needed to join. Along with the ring, the brake pads, chain, and cogset (although, I was able to reuse the 11 cog on account of my 140 pound weakling status) were finally put to rest. I took particular amusement from the chain with its loose rollers and generous lateral play.

Take careful note of the chain's orientation

So, let's hear it again for the bicycle, a wonderful, and wonderfully tolerant machine.

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My submission to velospace?

I realized last week that I'm not sufficiently zen. I was once, when I did a book report on The Cat Who Went to Heaven. I made this board game called "Nirvana or Hell" or something like that. You rolled a stone, drew cards and strove towards asceticism. The more you slept on an uncomfortable bed, divorced yourself from worldly trappings and wondered down the eight fold path, the closer you went towards winning the game. Although, you couldn't really win, because there's nothing zen about board game competition.


Anyway, I bought this old Colnago 'cross frame (with Reynolds 531!) off eBay awhile ago. I have no idea why. I already have one old and weird 'cross bike, but for some reason I felt that a second was needed, especially because it would be shipped from the Netherlands if I won. It arrived packed in newspapers I couldn't understand, lots of bubble wrap and milk cartons. It was actually quite a pretty looking frame and some other parts came along with it. I acquired a couple Nuovo Record parts off of eBay and then it just sat. Unsure of what to do and feeling paralyzed by the presence of this strange fancy bike, I ended up posting it on craigslist. Of course, the only responses I got were from TJ and Salem. Salem just wanted to buy the Mafac brakes.


Then, like in a lot of religions, I had an epiphany: I should make this into a fixed gear! It had sliding (and elegant) Campy dropouts and would be suitably absurd. So, I plunked down $120 on some CR18s laced to Formula hubs and built it up.



Admittedly, 38:17 is a little low of a gear for riding on the road, but it's very comfortable off road. I'd really like to have a 40t chainring, which would put me at 63 gear inches, right now I'm at 60 1/2". But, the bike performed quite well as a silly fixed gear 'cross bike on the yesterday's factory tour.

A lot of the parts aren't period correct, especially the Bontrager seat post of my mid 2000s Gary Fisher. I actually have a 27.2mm NR seat post, but I got so fed up with the stupid position of the second bolt, that I gave up and threw the single bolted one one.

Also, I have no plans to take the brakes off. They're very pretty as is. Read more!

Snow Tracks

Above: pigeon, dog, shoe and bike tracks this afternoon in Bushnell Park. I took a short ride today at lunchtime, passing through the park twice. The snow of the uncleared areas made for much cleaner (and prettier) riding than the slushy streets. I had a great ride yesterday afternoon in the greater Newington metro area with El Prez, Brendan, Salem, Erik, and Ken. The curb-found Diamond Back was still filthy from the muddier portions of that ride, so I figured the snow might help clean it some. I saw one young sledder and a few people with their dogs in the otherwise quiet park. I stopped to play with a friendly brown Newfie that may have outweighed me. He had a really giant head.


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Bikes Outside: Going for Gold

I was hoping to find something that could tie in to the winter Olympics, Presidents Day or Valentines Day for this Monday's Bikes Outside, but the best I could find this past week was a bike that didn't cost a lot of dead presidents locked up outside the Gold Building downtown.

Huffys don't tend to get a lot of love. Few will do anything but scoff at how awful and cheap they are, yet they have been best-selling bike brand in the US for decades. They are kind of ubiquitous. A friend of mine who recycles dumpster and curbside bikes has found more Huffys than any other brand. It's America's most popular disposable bike.

George P. Huffman was a comparative latecomer to the 19th century bike boom when he is said to have overseen his first bikes being made in 1892, but the Huffy lineage (Davis, Dayton, Huffman-Dayton, and finally Huffy) has some parallels to Hartford's own Columbia brand. Both were originally made in sewing machine factories; Columbias at the Weed Sewing Machine Company on Capitol Ave (Weed is still quite popular in the area) and Huffman's bikes and parts at the Davis Sewing Machine Company bicycle in Dayton, Ohio. Both brands were churning out cheap high-volume bikes by the 1960's, with heavy tubing, ugly welds and clunky components. They were still kind of charming in their own way (my mid-60's Columbia has lousy build quality, but I'm still fond of it) but things got aggressively tacky from the 1970's onward.

My web searches for Huffy history turned up a wide variety of non-matching timelines that all seem to agree on only one thing: Huffman is credited with inventing and introducing removable training wheels on the 1949 Huffy Convertible children's bike, also the beginning of the "Huffy" nameplate. If you learned to ride with training wheels, you owe the man a little credit.

I've seen some very cool older balloon-tire era Huffys, my favorite being the Radio Bike, but like many US manufacturers, they were phasing out awesome for cheap in the twilight of the 1950's. There were some latter-day exceptions, like the Nottingham-sourced "Huffiegh" Sportsman 3-speeds and some recent higher-end BMX frames, but their bread-and-butter these days is cheap Chinese-made bikes that are spec'd to a very low price point.

Anyway, back to Pearl Street for a parting glance at this week's street-parked workhorse. Ashtabula cranks, hi-ten steel tubing, and everything else that makes a bike heavy and slow are in effect here, but this mountain-style bike is obviously getting the job done for somebody. I'm pretty sure I have seen this bike in this spot before, so it seems to be on commuter duty. I didn't see any Rivendells downtown on this February afternoon, so Team Huffy gets the win. It takes more patience, physical effort and heart to daily ride a heavy bike so they get this week's nod for keepin' it real.

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When you should not ride a bike

It's a beautiful day today; happy Valentine's Day!

Yesterday, Salem and I rode up to Congamond to spectate the NEMBA ice race thingy. My right knee has been bothering me with increasing intensity and frequency lately. I think it's because I smashed it into a root and rock about a month ago. Some think it's because I have new shoes and the cleats aren't lined up perfectly. I lean towards the smashing, because I've never had cleat or float problems affect me while walking and this has started hurting me while I walk. Maybe that whole "shoes ruse" thing is correct, but I'm still blaming the root and rock. I almost didn't go yesterday because of my knee, but I shift my cleat a bit and I seemed ok riding to Constitution Plaza. So, we journeyed up and back. It was very nice. My knee started complaining a bit, but then when kinda numb and everything seemed ok.

This morning, there was a mountain bike ride at Meshomasic State Forest that Salem to which alerted me. My knee started to hurt me last night a bit, but I hoped I could either sleep it off or scare the pain with whiskey.


I woke and it was ok, but the more I used it the worse it felt. I debated going some more and sort of took my time getting ready, perhaps to erode my resolve. The bike still went in the car and was driven over to Glastonbury. Taking my time brought me there about ten minutes after the 9:30am start time of the ride, but I made out only one set of tire tracks, so I thought I might be able to catch up. That very quickly became an impossible proposition because my knee hurt so bad that I was only able curse at myself for getting out of bed. None the less, I followed the tire tracks for a good four miles before eventually giving up at riding back to my car. Ugh.

So, the lesson, I think, is that you should not ride if it hurts. Read more!

Dear Jenny

In October I walked into a bicycle and sandwich shop in Provincetown, almost as an afterthought before leaving town. It was a blustery day in the off-season -- which I contend is the only time to see Cape Cod – and our visit to the Edward Gorey House was the priority item on the itinerary for the day. Going into the bike shop made me feel like a little kid again, in that I wanted just about everything there, but could not afford anything at the time.

There were picnic backpacks more practical than baskets, but less aesthetically pleasing. Even on sale, they were more than the $10 I had given myself as a vacation allowance. There were colorful horns in the shape of pig heads. Weeks later, while watching a documentary about one of the entertainment venues in town, I learned that the awards granted to drag queens were these horns, but repainted metallic colors. The store was geared toward tourists, but was not filled with the typical schlock. To me, it seemed intended for the person who was so inspired by the beauty of the Cape as to suddenly need picnic and cycling equipment. Somehow, having gone to Provincetown every autumn for the last five years, I had never stopped into the shop.

I do not remember exactly how it happened. Maybe Interstatement pointed her out to me or maybe I stumbled upon her myself, but it was love at first sight.

I notice color. Her strong, yellow frame radiated amidst rows of boring navy and black frame bikes. Her handlebar grips and saddle were both leather with visible x's of stitching on the grips. This was a bicycle that begged to be ridden proudly about town, along the beach, and through the beech forest. Her name: Schwinn Jenny.

After a bit of swooning, we departed, heading back into the cold, October rainstorm. Try as I might, I could not get her out of my head. I fantasized about riding her around town. These were not general fantasies, but detailed ones that included various outfits and destinations.

Then it occurred to me. What if she's good to take 'round the block a few times, but doesn't have what it takes to go the distance? What if she's all style and no substance? Like any love-struck fool, I stalked conducted some research before making a move. Who else had taken her out? Did she disappoint? Did anyone actually ride her 'til the wheels fell off? Ten pages worth of Google searches showed that nobody out there has been talkin' smack about my Jenny. On to phase two.

I recently adventured out to WilliRico with Interstatement because he wanted to visit Scott's Cyclery, and I gravitate toward old factory towns, especially ones I spent lots of time in during the 90s. This is another place I somehow never stepped foot in, even though I was in Willimantic at least three days a week for four years. I was not even 100% positive where it was on Main Street, and as a result, we schlepped a heavy folding bike from where we parked on the other end of the downtown. While he barraged the owner with questions about things I did not have any vested interested in, I wandered around the store, this time feeling less oppressed by my financial situation; soon, I could spend a little money again.

Among the new bicycles and related equipment were some old-as-dirt bikes, including a Bone Shaker. I quickly found an inexpensive set of fenders for my daily bike. There was a nice range of bicycles that I would actually ride in the shop (i.e. not those crazy racing bikes with curvy handlebars that do absolutely nothing for me aesthetically or physically) and after exhausting the main part of the store, I headed back toward the repair section. It was here where I saw her: my Jenny. She was next to an adult Trike, folding bike, and the BoneShaker.

My heartbeat quickened. I inched the surrounding bikes away from her so that I could marvel at close range. Things blurred. Next thing I knew, a worker was holding my credit card as collateral and I was putting on a helmet so I could ride Jenny around the block. Only days after a snowstorm, the roads were gritty and a little icy. There was no slipping or skidding. She shifted gears without a hiccup as I headed up the hill toward the hospital. If I could have ridden home, I might have just kept going, not because stealing from a local bike shop is cool, but because it ached to return her. I promised the clerk that I would return in a few weeks for her.

When the big day arrived, I called ahead to make sure Jenny was still there. It would have been a long drive followed by a hard letdown had I arrived to see her spot in the shop vacant.



Our first time was not in the middle of a sunny afternoon like I'd imagined, but late at night. Every jolting pot hole was muted by her springy saddle. The return trip home was even later, nearing four in the morning. She softened the blow of being awake at that hour.

Our first real time together, though, when everything jived, was only just today. It was in the mid-30s, bright, and a relaxing end to a chaotic week. She beckoned.

We meandered out of Frog Hollow and arrived at Constitution Plaza downtown. The paved path along the Connecticut River was cleared of snow and ice more than most sidewalks I have seen this week. We passed a handful of people out enjoying Riverside Park. After taking a few victory laps in the parking lot by the Boathouse, we headed down the unpaved path. This was a rougher ride. The Jenny handled better in the snow and on loose rock than I was expecting her to.

We saw animal tracks, a sign warning us of the firing range, and a tree that was mislabeled with a poster that read "bike." She shifted effortlessly on hills. Even with the layer of snow, she put on the brakes faster than my other bicycles are able to in dry conditions. She handled the mud just fine, thankyou. Most importantly, I did not humiliate myself by falling off her during our first daytime ride.

On the way home I spotted the Barrio Style bike and his owner. It was like getting a glimpse at a celebrity while wearing Prada and riding in a limo, for a change. Except in this case, the limo was my Jenny, and she was looking foxier than any car I have seen in this area.
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Icicle Bicycle

Should there be any readers who wish to be riders Saturday, Brendan and I will be pedaling up to the NEMBA ice races on Lake Congamond.
http://www.nemba.org/forums/showthread.php?t=24948

Plan to depart from underneath the western pointy end of Phoenix building up on Constitution Plaza (above street level) at 11am. At the risk on being noninclusive, the ride will be about 50 miles round trip, and while speed, testosterone, and competitive forms of estrogen should be left at home, something just shy a 15mph pace is needed to get us to the lake in good time. Bring shoes that work for walking as some of the usually bikeable shortcuts may have a covering of the white stuff.

Remember, ice and F150s apparently literally mix, but not in a good way.

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a little Key Wierdness to warm your day

Handcuffs for bike locks are as common as rusty fenders here in Key West; but this awesomely strange combination of handlebar and bar ends is certainly not. I wondered who the rider was as I passed this bicycle going into the Bottle Cap Lounge as well as when I left. Perhaps the owner was sitting next to me? Perhaps they are seven or eight feet tall? Or enjoy riding standing up with good posture? I dunno, but bless them for making me smile!


Many people here simply do not have cars and use bicycles for everything; commuting to work, grocery shopping and towing their jet-skis! This dude prolly ain't getting into the large chainring anytime soon.


A fixie with a basket isn't too weird, but jumping sharks!?!? Really!?! Luckily we didn't have to dodge any this night during our pier tour. I bet a bite from one would mos def leave a bruise.


But...if a jumping shark had attacked us, I would have whipped out my sword and used my pirate skills to battle to the death! I have also found it to be very effective when drunk tourists stumble into the street in front of me while riding. A loudly yelled "ARRRRRRR" and a sword over my head usually sends them running back to a sidewalk of laughing bystanders. (yeah, go ahead and call me trash for not yet taking down my Christmas lights!)



We've all seen the Hartford messengers stacking their fixies on parking meters and poles in front of Mad Dawgs, Vegas and other spots. Well, down here in Key Weird, we hang our cruisers in trees when going out for swanky dinners. There's actually a second cruiser in the back of the tree and both are locked up in the branches.

a few more after the jump...




This installation, part of Sculpture Key West can be found at Fort Zack until April. Have a seat here in the shade if the sun and beach gets too hot for you.



Considering I took this during the Holiday Lights Bicycle Tour, it isn't really weird. There were also a few other bicycles with dogs, actually a lot, but only one trike with a dog and so many lights. Well done!


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