Here is a confession: I feel guilty about my car - or rather, what used to be my car.My poor car, once so beloved! I received it as a gift from my family six years ago, after I earned my doctorate and was about to start a new job in a mountainous region of Northern New England. It was the most lavish gift I have received in my life by far, either before or since, and I was filled with gratitude and disbelief. The car was beautiful and impeccably tasteful and rugged, and my excitement knew no bounds. The exterior was a lovely shade of dark gray and the interior was beige suede (I still remember the texture and smell of the seats when the car was new). The 4WD, the optional manual mode, and the myriad of safety features would keep me protected on the treacherous terrain of the place I was to live (and commute for over 20 miles to work). I named the car, and loved it as if it were a puppy. And I delighted in my long commutes - through the valleys past idyllic farm scenes and along dangerous mountain cliffs through the clouds of thick fog that would rise in the mornings.
Everybody was relieved at my reaction to the car, because I had never been an enthusiastic driver in my previous attempts at car ownership. By my early twenties I had dispensed with cars altogether, living in urban areas where they weren't necessary. Interestingly, this was viewed by many as a lack of self-sufficiency on my part: By living in cities, not practicing driving, and allowing my already questionable motoring skills to deteriorate, I was making myself dependent on urban comforts and public transportation. This new job in a rural area demanded a re-adjustment.
My romance with the new car lasted into winter... until I got into a horrifying accident involving darkness, black ice,fresh snow,a cliff and a railing - into which I crashed head-on after losing control on a turn. Miraculously, I emerged unscathed. And though the front end of the car was totaled, my insurance company came through wonderfully and soon the car was good as new. According to the policemen on the scene, that stretch of the road was so bad that night, that "there was nothing anyone could have done different, except not be out on the road". Not an option of course, when commuting home from a long workday.
I cannot say that I began to dislike or fear cars after this event; it was nothing so dramatic or definite. And I continued to drive throughout that winter and the next, in the same dangerous snow and ice, with no further mishaps. But I no longer thought of my car anthropomorphically, no longer considered it cute. It had become just a thing - a necessary thing, but a dangerous one, too, as well as a stuffy and oppressive one at times. Somehow I no longer saw the charm in the beige suede interior or the beauty of the tasteful gray exterior. It was just a car - something that made sense to use only when the necessity outweighed the danger and the feeling of stuffiness, but not otherwise. It was an excellent car, to be sure - useful especially in rural areas, and great for hauling things in its roomy interior. But just a car.
Several years after I got married, we moved to Boston. Within a week, we decided that the Co-Habitant would sell his car and mine would be shared. This was in no way driven by "ideology" on our part; it was simply absurdly inconvenient to have two cars in Boston, and since his was larger than mine, it was the one to go.
When the decision was made to share my car, I hardly suspected that I would never drive it again, but that is exactly what happened. I have not been behind the wheel of it or any other motor vehicle since sometime in 2007, over three years ago now. I have no idea why, and it was never my intention to categorically stop driving. But soon I found that I would rather walk to my destination for an hour than drive there (which was exactly what I did before I started cycling). What used to be my car now pretty much belongs to the Co-Habitant; I experience no feelings of possession when I look at it or sit in the passenger's seat while traveling together.
Will I drive again? Realistically speaking, I probably will, though I don't know when that might be. I am not "anti-car" and consider cars to be useful and necessary in many circumstances. But I cannot imagine wanting to drive just for the sake of it, or loving a car in the same way as I do my bicycles.
With his latest project, our neighbour Somervillain is quickly establishing himself as Vintage Bicycle Refurbisher Extraordinaire. This dreamy creature began life as a 1984 Shogun 1500 - a good, yet unremarkable touring bike. It has now been transformed into something quite exquisite.
The 25" frame was stripped of its original paint and powdercoated a creamy "almond," the lugwork then outlined in copper.
I think that it's pretty difficult to get the perfect shade of cream: If it's too pale, the bicycle looks bland and if it's too saturated the bicycle looks yellow. This shade looks just right to me: classic, soft and a little mysterious.
The Shogun frame had a high bottom bracket and sufficient clearance for wide tires with fenders, making it a great candidate for a 650B conversion. However, the cantilever bosses had to be relocated in order to accommodate the new wheel size. Both this and the powdercoating were done by Sugarcoat/ Geekhouse. Notice also the internal routing for the dynamo lighting.
Internal routing exit for the tail light. I will not even try to describe the routing, but Somervillain shows the step-by-step processhere.
Rear cantilever bosses, Mafac brakes, KoolStop brake pads.
The headlight is the Bausch & Mueller Lumoteq IQ (I have this light on two of my bikesand love it), and the DIY bracket is fashioned out of a caliper brake.
The tail light is a vintage Soubitez converted to LED with Bausch & Mueller innards.
Tires are the red Grand Bois Hetres, with Zeppelin fenders from Velo Orange. I have this same set-up on my Rivendell, only with the cream version of the tires. TheGrand BoisHetres are absolutely magical in their cushiness and a 650B conversion is worth it just for them alone.
Shimano dynamo hub (which Somervillain says causes slight vibration at high speeds when the light is on, so he is considering changing it to a Schmidt SON).
Huret rear derailleur. I forgot the details of the cassette, so perhaps Somervillain will remind me or post the specs.
Huret front derailleur.
Beautiful TA crankset.
VO Moderniste bottle cages.
Belleri Randonneur bars, VO Pass Hunter front rack,Ostrich handlebar bag.
And Brooks B17 saddle.
Having tested this bicycle out on a metric century ride last weekend, the owner is well pleased with its comfort and performance. Sadly, I am not tall enough for this 25" frame, so I will have to take his word for it. Given that Somervillain has other beautiful bicycles, I am curious how this one compares and what role he ultimately sees it occupying. Will it be his long-distance tourer? Time will tell. Either way, this project was a major accomplishment in its marriage of vintage and custom elements. The frame, the modifications, colour, the components - simply dreamy.
this wild aster came up right next to my horse trailer which I almost never use. It got no care and only watered when it rained which wasn't at all until recently. But it grew, and bloomed even with out any water. Wish all flowers were this tough.
Sometimes I get emails where ladies send me pictures of their bicycle and ask whether I think "it would look better" with dress guards and/or a chaincase. Ladies... You do realise that these things are not there for the looks, right? Although a set of dress guards and a chaincasedo lend a certain charm to a bicycle, aesthetics are not their primary purpose. So let me explain why I put them on my bikes, and then you can decide for yourself whether you need them or not.
The purpose of dress guards is to stop fluttery, loose clothing from flying into the spokes of your rear wheel and either getting ruined or causing an accident.The main determinant of whether you need dressguards is whether you wearthe sort of clothing that requires their protection - for instance: flared skirts, dresses, long coats, or flowing tunics. Once you have had something get stuck in your rear spokes or have seen it happen to someone else, you know that the possibility is real and that it can even cause injury. Personally,I will not ride a bicycle without dress guards if an article of clothing I am wearing is long enough to reach the rear spokes. And since much of my everyday clothing is in that category, it is a good idea for me to install dress guards on any bike I plan to use for transportation.
I have also been asked what kind of dressguards are better: netted or solid. There are probably differing opinions on this, but in my experience it does not matter. My vintage Raleigh(above) is fitted with very minimal dressguards that are basically just stretchy cords fanning out from the rear dropouts. For me, this has been sufficient; the cords - closely spaced - provide a perfectly functional barrier.The obvious advantage to dress guards that are woven, is that they are lighter (and usually more attractive) than plastic ones. The disadvantage is that they can be more expensive and more difficult to clean.
Moving on to chaincases, their purpose is two-fold: (1) to prevent the bottoms of your trousers from being caught in the chain, and (2) to keep the chain clean from street grime, especially in bad weather. Since I seldom wear long trousers, the first function is not that important to me. So while I do appreciate that the chaincase keeps my chain nice and clean, this accessory is not as crucial for me as dress guards, because it is a maintenance feature rather than a safety feature. I can still ride a bike without a chaincase for transportation.
Furthermore, while I have found dress guards to be effective in preventing clothing from getting stuck in the spokes, I have not found chaincases to be entirely effective on those rare occasions when I do wear trousers. A couple of times, the bottoms of my trousers have actually gotten stuck on the chaincase itself, which has only increased my bias for skirts once I started cycling. Don't get me wrong, I still love a nice, elegant chaincase. But I admit that this feature does not hold as much functional purpose for me as do dress guards.
Dress guards and chaincases are not affectations, but necessary accessories for transportation in everyday clothing. As the popularity of "city bikes" rises, I hope that more American bicycle shops will realise this, and start carrying these useful items.
Time stands still in this UNESCO World Heritage town. The locals gladly spend their days sitting from the window sills or their doorsteps watching people go by, while others gather together in groups, laughing and chatting with each other. This relaxed social sphere and people watching activity seems to be a national culture and pastime. Many even upped their comfort by bringing their own chairs outside on the street. Voila, the old centre has become an extension to their living room. 
Here we are again, taking a souvenir picture with the church and convent at the background.
Many local women love wearing leggings paired with above the crotch shirts and blouses. Cuban women seems to think it is normal that their 'thing' is taking centre stage (read and see: camel toe fit). And some of the enterprenurial locals sell fruit, i.e. bananas on their doorstep. 
Outside the old historical centre the streets and houses are rundown. It looks very desperate.
Tuffee thinks she is herding Sunny. Sunny says he is way to old to pay attention to a little dog.