April 2006 Critical Mass

Belated, I know, but since I have it written and saved somewhere else already I might as well post it here.

Since I’ve reached another impasse with the Wittgenstein paper, I might as well write about last night’s Critical Mass. Route was South Loop – Chinatown – Pilsen – Greektown – Little Italy – Wicker Park. Supposed to end in the park at Wicker Park, but when we reached that unmistakable Damen-Milwaukee-North junction, the mass came to a standstill. A band was playing on a corner, adding to the already festive atmosphere. The intersection was quickly corked and people started circling vehicles for fun. I didn’t want to go any further north so got off the road and took the El back to Washington, emerging at the Daley Plaza where we had set out from. Ride back along the lakefront bike path was amazing. I was apprehensive because it would be dark and possibly dangerous. I was apprehensive even before I found out, while waiting at the Columbus traffic lights, that I had brought my headlamp without any batteries. Fuck it, I wasn’t going to head back to State St when I’d already come all the way out here, the illumination from LSD should be enough, and the first part looked well lit anyway. So off I went. Glad I did because it was surprisingly therapeutic cycling by a dark mass of nothingness. Saw 5 or so cyclists the whole route. A few groups of people out fishing too, one of them with a campfire.

Later found out through the Critical Mass listhost that there were unpleasant incidents at the DMN junction. Most people didn’t realise that that was not the intended endpoint, and the mini-party stretched on indefinitely until an SUV driver lost his temper and accelerated through the mass, injuring several cyclists and destroying two bikes. He and some cyclists were arrested. That effectively broke up the mass.

Ed: More photos.

Another excuse to forget my helmet

Cyclists who wear helmets are more likely to be hit by passing vehicles, which tend to pass closer to the cyclist if the latter is wearing a helmet.

Dr Walker thinks the reason drivers give less room to cyclists wearing helmets is because they see them as “Lycra-clad street-warriors” and believe that they are more predictable than those without.

Drivers also tend to give a wider berth to perceived female cyclists — the researcher wore a wig to test this out. He reached his conclusions after recording passing distances of 2500 overtaking vehicles, and in the process was involved in two collisions, both when he was wearing his helmet.

So perhaps I should ditch the lycra shorts and aggressive racing posture and toe clips and, of course, helmet, and instead wear a dress, a long wig and inappropriate shoes. And ride a Huffy. After all if I am riding a Huffy I need hardly worry that the lack of padding in the crotch would result in abrasions — I wouldn’t be going fast enough to give myself abrasions.

Meanwhile, the Labour government is trying to make it compulsory for bikes to have bells. Here’s one reaction:

Graeme Obree, the Scottish world record-holding cyclist, branded the move a “pointless exercise in red tape”. He said: “If a cyclist is about to hit a pedestrian, they’re not going to hit a bell – they are going to shout. What bobby is going to enforce a law like this? Yobs will take the bell off anyway. Only civil servants could come up with crazy ideas like this.”

Indeed.

Boulevard Lakefront Tour

Great ride, really. Would have been greater if not for the awful weather. Barely drips the whole week before, then on the morning itself it’s just dumping down. Huge groan when I awoke at 5.30 am to the sound of rain. Thought at first they might cancel it. No chance. I salute Chicago cyclists — you are persistent. And it wasn’t just your hardcore racing-type cyclists who turned up in their waterproofs either — there were plenty of obviously more “casual” types, and many many hardcore commuters (there’s a certain look to these people and to the bikes they use), whom I respect more than racers.

Planned to do the 62-mile ride, started out fine; wearing hood of waterproof jacket under helmet turned out to be an excellent choice, since the cap on the hood kept most of the rain off my glasses, and my neck stayed dry too. As expected Marmot Precip pants didn’t keep the rain out indefinitely — they aren’t supposed to anyway. Discovered that thinner tires spray water a lot further, so much so that I overtook this guy just to get out of spraying range of his thin tires. Later learnt to ride behind people with fat mountain bike wheels, which don’t spray water as far.

Plans for 62-mile ride scuppered at 31st and Western, where I discovered my front tire was flat. Waited about half an hour for a ride marshal to pass by, saw no one. A bunch of cyclists stopped by and told me a course marshal was about 50m back, so I headed towards there. There was another old bloke who was fixing his own flat there. The course marshal called for the ride marshals. The latter took about half an hour to arrive, probably because they were helping the numerous people who had had flats earlier on. In the meantime I was feeling the chill; I didn’t feel particularly wet but I probably was. The Precip pants make one feel sticky rather than damp when the moisutre gets through.

Flat turned out to be from a small puncture which we couldn’t locate by ear, so the ride marshal found a roadside puddle deep enough to run the tube through and to spot bubbles coming out of it. Makes one wonder what we could have done if it hadn’t been so bloody wet. By the time we were putting the patched tube back on a third ride marshal had arrived, and he advised that we should put the tire back on the wheel before putting the tube in. Strange, but apparently it’s easier. I just can’t imagine doing that with the Armadillos (but boy did I wish I had Armadillos on today). Also note, don’t go above 80 psi for patched tubes.

Patched tube seem to hold up well until the 17-mile rest point. I was still considering at that point, despite being behind by almost two hours, continuing on the 62-mile ride, but I somehow convinced myself to relax and enjoy the bonanza of whole wheat bagels and other carbo-rich treats at leisure.

Which turned out to be a good choice, because when I started out again I realised that my tube was still leaking. Very slowly. I remember the exact same thing happening when I patched a tube on my Continental. It would seem to be holding up fine on a short ride, but leave it in the bike room overnight, and the next day it’s completely flat. By the time I reached the end I think it was probably down to 50 psi. Very glad to be able to stop then, and not ask around or wait around for someone with a pump again. Not hungry at all but grabbed lots of food for future consumption. Most of it is now sitting in my fridge.

Awful wind on the ride back, apparently from the southeast, which made the portion on the lakefront trail thigh-burning. For the first time since I started riding the IRO I had to stand up out of the seat to climb that hill at the 47th St bridge. I probably didn’t have to, but at the start of the hill I had negligible momentum and my thighs were still searing from battling previous hills and battling the wind on the flats, so I figured it would be better to ignore gracefulness and just grind my way up that last hill as quickly as possible. Back at home, while getting ready for the hot bath I’d been promising myself, I tried doing four lunges and quickly decided that my thighs didn’t need any more work for the rest of the day.

I actually liked the spirit of the BLT a lot more than I do that of Bike the Drive and of Critical Mass. Bike the Drive is just too huge and somewhat monotonous. BLT feels much more positive. Critical Mass should feel positive but often doesn’t.

Ye gods, here I am going about “positive” feelings like some wishy-washy hippie.

One last comment. As if I needed any more convincing, another reason why fixed gear is the dog’s pods: if I had ridden either of my freewheel roadies in that rain, I would have had to go much slower at least, or had an accident at worst, because the rim brakes are almost entirely useless on wet rims at moderate to high speeds. On my IRO I can decelerate to a slow pace using just my legs, then apply the front brake to come to a complete stop.

More on the IRO

I’m hooked. This despite the fact that the top tube is too long for me. It’s actually about the same length as the top tube on one of my Schwinns, but the handlebars on the IRO are further because the horizontal section connecting them to the stem (there is a term for it that I forgot) is much longer than the Schwinn’s. I picked 110mm instead of 100mm because I wanted greater steering sensitivity, but in any case I think I need it to be reduced by more than 1cm! One thing that will help is moving the saddle slightly more in front relative to the seatpost. I think I can afford to do that since my legs are slightly further in front of my torso than they would be if I were on the Schwinn. Another option is to get a shorter version of that part which I don’t know the name of. Yet another option is to get those funky moustache bars that the Redline 925, which was my original choice for a fixie, has. I still wish I could have gotten the Redline instead not only because it’s cheaper, but because it’s more commuter friendly. Fenders, and all that. And the freewheel on the flip-flop hub, which I thought at that time would come in useful (but don’t think so anymore — it’s true what they say, after you try fixed gear you don’t want to return to clicky uncontrollable freewheels). But perhaps my second choice will pay off in the long run, if it really has better components.

In my defence, IRO doesn’t have women-specific bikes. LIke most women my legs are relatively long compared to my torso, so I want a tall but not long frame. Too bad Terry don’t manufacture fixies. 56cm is the right frame height for me but way too long. I would probably have chosen 53cm if they had that in stock, but I suspect the center tube length that I want is probably closer to the one on the 50 cm frame anyway! Which would be too low for me. Although I’m still unclear as to what “too low” means. What is the problem with having a low frame and a really high seatpost?

Other major source of discomfort is the saddle. Again I didn’t want to wear my pocketless bike shorts and suffered for it. Will never be that lazy again if I’m going on rides of more than half an hour. Ouch ouch ouch. Or rather, no ouch. Numb crotch, was what the problem was. Numb crotch, backache, the only blots on an otherwise great ride.

Gearing, as I suspected, is indeed rather large, but I can still accelerate faster than on my Schwinns because the IRO is so much lighter. Now the Schwinns feel really odd. Feel too “spinny” on flat ground yet I’m grinding like crazy just to get going at traffic junctions. And of course there’s the strange feeling of zero resistance when I try to backpedal on them. Almost forget the brakes are there. And one really noticeable defect of the Schwinns, compared to the IRO, is how much they bounce after hitting potholes/bumps. I thought that was just normal but compared to the Schwinns the IRO feels like it has a suspension. The Varsity oscillates for quite some time after being bumped, as though the entire frame is made of springs (which I suppose it is, for a given value of “spring”). The Continental just feels like it’s transmitting the force to my body with zero damping.

Had coveted the Raleigh Rush Hour as well, but read that the gearing is 48/15 (compared to my ignorantly chosen 46/15)! Something to feel good about, I suppose. Although I contradict myself by feeling good about the training I’m giving my thigh muscles. Heaven knows they need it.

Biggest difficulty is still getting the pedals into takeoff position at traffic junctions. Limited trackstand training not advancing very well, unsurprisingly. A few times when I took off rather late at junctions because I was still figuring out how to manoeuvre the pedals into takeoff position. Getting quite adept at fitting other foot into pedal within one revolution. Should have returned power grips, eh?

Repressing a Huffy rant

I hate Huffys, and I know I shouldn’t. They are just as legitimate a means of transport as any road bike, and much more practical for transporting groceries (nice long bars to hang grocery bags on) and for keeping a presentable appearance (fenders and chainguards). But when one has to manoeuvre onself around those obscenely wide bars in an overpacked bike room, one grows to curse their fat, relaxed geometry. If only every bike in the room were a slim elegant almost cable-less track bike like my IRO! Mountain bikes are a small level below Huffys in terms of getting in the way, their handlebars being of a slightly smaller width. You don’t need a mountain bike in Chicago! Get a slimmer, lighter bike.

I have been shamelessly pilfering bike parts off abandoned bikes in the bike room. Just stole a front and rear reflector off bikes that had cobwebs growing on them. The sweet Schwinn Varsity that had cobwebs on it, which I salvaged initially in the hope that it had 27″ hooked rim tires which I could then pilfer to replace the unhooked rims I have on my ancient Intercontinental, turned out to be in excellent condition, wanting only some oiling. But now I’m going to convert fully to riding the IRO, which is on different level altogether. Too bad the bell I bought doesn’t fit on its dropbars, because, given that pedestrians don’t seem to hear me coming even when I’m on a bike with freewheels and hence emitting clicking sounds, they’re certainly not going to hear my IRO approach when the only sound that comes from it is a slight whirr of the wheels turning. So that means more yelling, or more “walking” behind pedestrians until they notice me, both of which I hate.

And now I still have two bikes to move from my old home. The weather is great and should be hurtling on my IRO by the strikingly blue lake, but it’s always a tradeoff between the weather and the number of people on the lakefront path.

Besides, I still have two bikes to move.

Unlikely Origins

I have the rude bike shop man to thank for my learning so much more about bikes on my own, so I no longer have to put up with him whenever I get a flat. In fact he may well have exacerbated my bike craze. Perhaps I wouldn’t even have discovered Critical Mass without him. And almost certainly I wouldn’t have discovered fixed gear without him. Strangely, learning how to fix a flat was the first step down the slippery slope of bike advocacy. A slope made possible only by the exuberant interconnectedness of the internet.