14 Months Without a Car

We have been without a car since last December. The "anniversary" of this date was so unremarkable, that it came and went unnoticed. But I've had some requests to post a 1-year report about what it has been like, which made me realise it's already been longer than that. I want to make it clear that being without a car is not a political statement for us and is not wrapped up in our sense of identity. For that reason I do not use words such as "car-free" or "car-light," or any of the related terminology. We simply do not have a car, for the time being.

Living on the border of Somerville and Cambridge, MA, we are lucky to be in a location that happens to be convenient for getting around the Boston Metro area by bike. Before moving here 4 years ago, we lived in rural Northern New England - where we did a great deal of driving and each had a substantial vehicle with off-road and hauling capacity. As soon as we moved to Boston, we sold the larger of the two, because it was clear that keeping both was impractical. The Co-Habitant's car was sold, and mine was to become the shared car. However, what happened instead is that I simply stopped driving at that point entirely, preferring to get around on foot and via public transportation. When later I started riding a bike, that became my main mode of transport. I have not been behind the wheel of a motor vehicle since late 2007, and I even let my driver's license lapse for some time. But I still co-owned our shared car, and rode in it as passenger.

We used the shared car mainly to travel out of town and for trips that involved transporting or purchasing bulky items. The majority of everyday transportation we did by bike, simply because both of us found it more convenient. When the car broke down in late November 2010, we realised that we did not really feel like getting it fixed and preferred to make do without it instead. So that is what we did.

The winter of 2010-2011 was a brutal one, and interestingly getting through it was what cemented our decision. It snowed so much and so frequently, that we often relied on resources close to home - which made us realise that it is possible. If there was too much snow on the roads to cycle, there was a grocery store and pharmacy within walking distance. They may not be our preferred grocery store and pharmacy, but nonetheless they are there for us to simply walk to in case we needed milk at 10pm in a snowstorm. Further afield there are coffee shops, restaurants, a post office, and other destinations that could be reached on foot. The Co-Habitant could even walk to work if really necessary, though he had no problem cycling through snow. I could also walk or take public transportation. If anything, we felt that we had it easier that winter than drivers - who constantly complained about having to dig out and defrost their cars, and about the horrible driving conditions. A bike and a pair of winter boots require much less maintenance.

Once that winter was over, everything else was a piece of cake. Owning a car in Boston now seemed like a burden and inconvenience. How did we ever manage with all those fees and maintenance responsibilities? Not owning a car was so much easier, not to mention that we now magically had more money. And that's really all there was to it, as far as everyday stuff was concerned.

That is not to say that we never used a car. We still occasionally needed to travel to remote out of town locations and to transport bulky items. And, ironically, I occasionally had to transport bikes in various states of assembly for Lovely Bicycle related projects. But the key word here is "occasionally." Once we got the hang of zipcar and car rental, using these services in addition to the occasional taxi proved to be sufficient for us to not feel that we needed to actually own a car. The main limitation of zipcar, is that you cannot always get one on the spot, and we tend to do things spontaneously rather than plan everything out carefully. But over time we got better at planning and also became more savvy/psychic about zipcar rental. After a couple of initial glitches, it has mostly been okay. I even moved into my art studio with the help of a zipcar pickup truck, which went very well with fairly minimal planning.

Our only frustration so far has been with the public transportation system. Without exaggeration, the T (subway) has gotten stuck between stations most of the times I've taken it over the past year, making me late for appointments. The buses are habitually late by as much as 20 minutes, to the point that the bus timetable is not meaningful. The buses are also very full and taking fragile items on board is not practical. The commuter rail runs infrequently and not at the times we seem to need it, so that going somewhere via commuter rail can mean having to spend an entire day at the destination instead of the 1.5 hours we need to spend there. Also, many of the commuter rail stops are not handicap-accessible - which also means not bike-friendly, since they have these super long and narrow staircases leading down to the platform from overpasses. Whenever I criticise the MBTA, inevitably someone gets angry, as if public transportation is some holy thing no matter how good or bad it is and I should be thankful for it. But with all due respect, having used public transportation successfully in cities where it works, the MBTA is a disgrace in comparison. I cannot pretend to be thankful for the frustration and wasted time it causes me nearly every time I attempt to use it, and I am certain that it is the reason why more people in the greater Boston area do not feel comfortable without a car. 

MBTA frustrations aside, we did manage to go on a 2-week vacation via bike plus commuter rail over the summer, and it was a lot more fun than renting a car would have been. No traffic jams, no gas station stops, no looking for parking - just the freedom of bikes. We brought all the stuff we would normally have taken with us too, including two weeks worth of clothing, books, laptops, and basic camera equipment. It's amazing how much you can stuff into heavy-duty bicycle luggage if you try. 

When we first discussed the idea of giving up the car, it was important for both of us not to feel as if being without it would be a struggle, or would limit our freedom. And over a year later, I can say that at no point did we feel that way. At this stage of our lives not having a car gives us more freedom, not less. We do not miss the responsibilities and the spendings that come with owning, parking, fueling and maintaining a vehicle in the Boston Metro area. We also simply never talk about it anymore. We neither lament our carless state, nor do we congratulate ourselves for it; it's just become one less issue to worry about. 

By no means is this narrative intended to be an "if I can do it, you can!" sort of thing. Our circumstances happen to be conducive to getting along without a car, but others' circumstances might not be. There is also no question in my mind that at some point in the future we will have a car again, and I will even drive it - since my ideal place to live is in the countryside in the middle of nowhere. In the end,  it's not about fixating on the car as an object - be it an object of desire or an object of evil - but about deciding what works best for improving your quality of life. Car ownership for its own sake has become such a given, that it may simply not occur to some people that there are circumstances under which they might be better off (i.e. waste less time, be in a better mood, have more disposable income, feel better) without a private vehicle. When I lived in Vienna, I once asked an elderly socialite - the wife of a wealthy politician - whether she and her husband owned a car. She cringed and fanned herself. "Goodness no dear, sitting in traffic is so undignified! I take the trolley and I love to walk. For me, these are life's luxuries." The concept of luxury is, after all, relative.

Taking the Lane with Elly Blue

Following the online presence of Portland-based bike activist Elly Blue over the past year, her perspective seemed so different from mine that it was as if she wrote from another planet. Critical Mass, relentless activism, political organising, and the accompanying stylistic elements - It's not my world and it's not my way of thinking. But when faced with swathes of difference, it often happens that the littlest suggestions of a common thread begin to stand out and attain significance. For me, the first of these was Elly's post My So-Called Out of Control Life - a non-bike-related essay that expressed my own unease with the hyper-confessional style of writing so popular with females of our generation. It was odd to read my own thoughts echoed in this piece, and to recognise our shared cultural references.

Shortly thereafter another common thread emerged: We both decided to quit facebook, independently and at around the same time. But what's more, is that right before I quit I noticed with amazement that Elly Blue appeared to be a "friend" of one of my real-world friends. How could they know each other? My very good friend L. has nothing to do with cycling, activism, or Portland. She does not read bicycle blogs (and, like most of my friends, has no idea that Lovely Bicycle exists). So how were they connected? I didn't feel comfortable asking at the time, but found myself paying closer attention to Elly Blue as a result of this discovery. When she announced the publication of Taking the Lane Volume 5: "Our Bodies Our Bikes," I bought one with intent to review it. She then included a couple of other volumes, so that I could get a better feel for the zine as a whole. I will be distributing those locally once I am done with them.

"A zine is like a small book or a large pamphlet, but with extra magic," explains the editor. And that it is. The compact format and eye-catching cover design make each zine inviting, pick-up-and-readable. My first thought: Is this a subversive tactic? Are these zines essentially vehicles for political agitation, which the attractive exterior and diminutive size are meant to ease the unseasoned reader into? But the Taking the Lane zines (a quarterly publication "about women and bicycling") are not quite that.

If I had to choose two words to describe my impression of the Taking the Lane zine, they would be "feminine" and "folkloric." Feminine because the various pieces of writing come across very strongly as being written by female authors and for a female audience. And folkloric, because the tone of each piece is narrative and subjective. The authors do not attempt to speak for everyone, and they do not attempt to convince; they simply share their own experiences and thoughts - in a manner that is almost alarmingly unguarded in an era of self-conscious and self-defensive blog writing we are all growing increasingly used to. It is essentially lots of stories, told in lots of individual voices. In each zine, a theme emerges - and this emergence is organic, not forced. Reading a zine is like seeing the pattern reveal itself in a woven tapestry or piece of knitting, which comes back to the "feminine" feeling again. While I realise that associating femininity with folklore and traditional craft is loaded, nonetheless it is what went through my mind when reading the zines - I had the sense that I was listening to stories told in a knitting circle of contemporary-minded women.

"Our Bodies Our Bikes" (volume 5) contains snippets of personal experience as diverse as surviving cancer, worrying about body image, and having orgasms while cycling downhill. "Unsung Heros" (volume 3) contains some of the most compelling and disarming descriptions of bicycle activism I have ever read, precisely because it focuses on human experiences and not on the activism itself. "Sexy on the Inside" (volume 4) is an entire issue dedicated to the analysis of the bicycle dance troupe the Sprockettes that goes off on interesting tangents about the history of punk culture and various types of feminism. To explain the content of the zines in any more detail than this seems impossible, because by its very nature the content is resistant to summary. When there is no one succinct point, the writing is unskimmable, and the reader ends up reading everything. The message in Taking the Lane sinks in slowly and stays with you - even if you're not sure what that message is.

Whether these descriptions are making the zine seem good or bad, interesting or dull, I am not sure. It is a unique publication and reactions to it are bound to differ. Most if not all of the contributing writers seem to be from Portland, OR and the surrounding areas, which gives the zine a local feel, and as an East-coast resident I find myself not always sure that I "belong" in the audience. If this is something the editor wishes to change, she could invite writers from other regions to contribute. Based on the subject matter covered and on the glimpses we see of the writers' background, there is also a distinct sense of cycling being portrayed as a fringe subculture, which some readers may find difficult to relate to. As someone who feels passionate about cycling and bicycles, but whose style of dress, social life, and political views do not revolve around cycling, I sense that I am different from the zine's writers and intended audience. If this is not intentional, then perhaps some diversity on that end could be introduced into future issues as well. [Edited to add: East-coasters and non-cycling-subbaculturalists are welcome to email submission inquiries to "elly[at]takingthelane[dot]com"]

Publishing content in the form of a zine in itself signals that the content is of an "alternative" nature, and there are so many ways to play with that idea - which Elly very much does. How she develops the zine in the future depends mainly on what type, and how large of an audience she seeks.

As I read through the volumes of the Taking the Lane, the final question for me was whether these publications "needed" to exist in printed format. Can the same not be said online, in a blog? What would compel the reader to pay $3 per pamphlet when there is so much free content around covering many of the same topics?  In the end my impression is that this writing would not in fact exist in an online format, simply because the internet discourages it. Whereas print was once a means to disseminate information as widely as possible, it can now function as a means of limiting our audience. In that context, the writers feel safe to express themselves in a manner they perhaps would not in a blog post, and the reader benefits from thoughtful, unself-conscious writing offering new perspectives on cycling, women and activism.

When I read Elly Blue's blog and twitter feed I disagree with her as often as I agree, but I am also fascinated with the way she expresses herself. Who knows, maybe one day we will meet and will either get along or not. Until then, I enjoy her writing online and in print.

The 'Psychic Spouse' Fallacy

Talking to people who cycle with their spouse, I consistently discover for how many couples this does not really work. Despite both partners being into cycling, they just can't ride with each other - to the point than they each go off with separate cycling clubs or riding partners. After nearly three years of cycling together, I have to say that the Co-Habitant and I are sort of in that category. We do ride together, and it can be nice. But we seem to have such different approaches and styles, that it can get overwhelming. When two people are compatible as romantic partners, how can it be difficult to ride together?

A fellow cyclist recently voiced a theory that I think may hit the mark. Romantic partners - and particularly those who have been together for a long time - tend to function on the assumption that their spouse is at least somewhat "psychic" when it comes to gauging their intentions and needs. This comes from living together long enough to understand each other without having to explicitly spell everything out. And it then gets falsely transferred to cycling. Whereas with a stranger, we would never assume that they can anticipate a maneuver which we do not signal, or will experience energy bursts at the same time as us, or will know which way to go at an intersection if the route is new to them, with a spouse we sometimes do erroneously assume exactly that, without even realising it. The spouse is sort of like an extension of ourselves, and therefore is expected to "just know" these things... But of course they can't possibly know things like when you intend to turn left, or stop for water, or whether you prefer to weave through traffic vs wait it out, or whether you feel up to climbing that next hill. Is it possible to treat your spouse as you would a stranger when you ride together, without assumptions about them intuitively understanding you? I don't know, but it's an interesting idea. At least it might help to keep in mind that your spouse is not actually psychic.

Thruster Fixie Finished! And under budget as well.

Hello and Welcome,
Things have been hectic around here these past few weeks. We are having one bath-room fixed-up and another completely remodeled. And in the midst of all this my wife's car broke-down. So between cleaning-up after the tradesmen and dealing with the car, there has been little time for this project. So after the first bath was finished the builder needed a week to line-up the tradesmen. And we decided to park the car for a while. This gave me most of this week to take care of some other things.

I have been very eager to see what the new Origin 8 1/8 Single Crank-Set would look like on the Thruster. So let us pick it up the project there.

Above: First step is to loosen the rear axle so we can move it forward.

Above: After removing the dust cap I remove the crank retaining bolt. I do not use an extension on the ratchet. And I use the smaller ratchet. For me this makes it easier to keep the socket snug on the bolt head. I don`t want to round off the bolt head by letting the socket slide off while putting torque to the ratchet. It is equally important that the socket have the same number of points as the retaining bolt head.

Above: Here after removing the retaining bolt I have threaded the crank puller tool into the crank. I am very careful not to cross thread this. To avoid cross threading I start screwing it into place by hand. I put this in snug but not over-tightened.

Above: Now I have moved the wrench handle out to the nut on the threaded post. As I thread this in using the wrench handle it will contact the end of the bracket axle or spline. As I tighten the post, it will pull the crank off the spline. I also have a Park tool crank puller. But on the Park the handle is fixed so it can not be used to screw the tool into to crank. And you can not remove the wrench handle and change the position to get better torque on the wrench. I would say "in my opinion" the Park tool is very well built. But the Sun-lite wrench again "in my opinion" is a better design. UPDATE: Removing a badly frozen crank set on another bike I damaged the Sun Lite crank puller. I had to hit it (crank puller handle) with a hammer to break the crank loose from the spindle. I do not think any puller would have stood up to that much abuse. It does still work but with the threaded spindle now slightly bent, it does not thread in easily. As I mentioned I was able to remove the frozen crank. The Sun Lite crank puller "took one for the team."

Above: When I installed the new Single crank. it went on a little too easy for my liking. So I removed the Crank. I then took it out to the shop to check the bottom bracket splines I had on hand for a match. I found one I liked so I went back in and removed the bottom bracket spindle or axle. I compared the two for length then checked the bearings to see that they rode on the spline the same. After I re-assembled the bottom bracket it was actually smoother than the original. So I went ahead and installed the new crank. The arm on the left side removes exactly the same way as the drive side. I did not expect I would find such a perfect spline or bracket-axle match. Sometimes it`s better to be lucky than smart.

Above: A close-up of the new Origin 8 crank and a look at the new Avenir ultralight pedals with old style toe-clips and straps. I think the new crank looks great! And I still think the Avenir pedals are the most bang for your buck you will find anywhere.

Above: I have chosen to re-use the stock saddle. I like the narrow nose and the over-all design. But of course the real test will be the feel after a decent ride. Not that I am planning any extended fixed gear rides. But you never know. Also you can see the micro adjust seat post is installed. As those of you who have followed this blog for a while already know. A micro adjust seat post is one of the best "inexpensive" up-grades you will ever make. Not only better "performance wise" but it looks 100% better too. And I`m not even going to say "in my opinion" It is simply "better".

Above: Being that I have no brake levers to tape around, I used these extra pieces of cork handlebar tape to create a little more padding. I have used these type bars on about three or four bikes now. So I know this lack of padding has been a problem area for me in the past. I have also done this on the flats of drop handlebars and found it works fairly well. In this pic the front brake is mounted "just to check for fit". I will remove it and give it the full treatment latter.

Above: I taped the bars in the modern way, from the bar end towards the center or stem. Usually the end of a flop and chop handlebar is not perfectly round. So be prepared to work a little bit to get the plugs in place. You might even want to go to a smaller pronged plug. In this case I was able to use the plugs that came with the tape. But I did have to snip off a few burs on the prong side of one of the plugs.

Above: I have borrowed some of the bits (small parts) off the original side pull caliper brake to dress-up this old caliper brake a little. I am using the acorn nuts and barrel adjuster and the shoes. I will now remove the brake and take it apart and polish the whole thing.

Above: Every original part of the brake caliper has been cleaned-up. As always I used Mother's Mag and Aluminum Polish on the cast alloy arms and Turtle Wax Chrome Polish and Rust Remover on the steel. And the small pieces were brass brushed with a fine brass wheel brush on the low-speed drill. I only did the assembly in the house, the brass brushing and polishing was done in the shop.

Above: Here the caliper brake is re-mounted on the bike, complete with smudge marks from my greasy hands. Now it is time to run the Jag Wire Basics brake cable and cut the cable housing.

Above: The barrel shaped end of the cable fits into the corresponding hole in the inner ARTEK brake lever. If you look closely you can see I have not lined up the grooves or slots in the barrel adjuster and nipple.

Above: Here with the slots lined up I am able to swing the brake cable into place. Once in place I screw the barrel adjuster in so the slots no longer line up. You always want the adjusters screwed in all the way when you install the cables. This is so you will have plenty of adjustment to work with latter on when the cable stretches or your Jag Wire brake shoes wear down.

Above: After I have cut a piece of cable housing to length, I check the cut end for obstructions with a small nail or wire. In this case I did have to cut off a little bur with my diagonal cutting pliers. And before running the new cable through I gave the inner housing one drop of cable oil. (one drop because it is a very short cable)

Above: Here with the cable properly connected at the lever, I route the cable through the housing. Then down through the caliper adjuster and through the cable clamp or anchor. I hold the brake caliper closed with one hand then pull the slack out of the cable. Before I tighten the cable anchor, I check to see that my cable is inserted into the barrel adjusters at both ends. If it all looks good, I just tighten the anchor bolt. Then test the brake. There are cable pullers available that will make this job easier for you. (if needed)

Above: Once I have tested the brake and checked both ends of the cable and I am satisfied with the amount lever pull. It is time to trim off the excess cable. I like to use this particular pair of pliers / side cutters. You will probably want to use bicycle cable cutters.

Above: After trimming off the excess cable length you will want to use a Jag Wire Cable End Crimps right away. If you are a beginner, you might want to leave a little extra length, just in case you have to make an adjustment latter. Then when you are 100% positive all is well, you can cut-off some more excess cable.

Above: Because I like the cable routing better, I chose to install my front "and only" brake lever on the right side. If you are accustomed to it being on the left side you might want to just go with that. Even if you have to relocate the lever position to do so. NOTE: Rear Breaking is done by skidding the rear tire. Check-out the "Video(s) of the Week" section to see how to properly skid your fixed gear bike.

Above: Finally the Greenfield kick stand. I know some do not like them. But for my needs it works out fine. If your friends tease you, you can always remove it latter. Personally, I almost never worry about what other people think. I have seen people really stress-out over what other people will think of them. That is no way to go through life.

Above: Drive side view. All finished and on budget. CORRECTION I make it to be $191.50 not including taxes and delivery. But there is one other thing to consider and I will get to that in a minute.

Above: A view from the front left side. I can`t wait to get some pics of this bike outside.

Left: A view from the front. I`m thinking about removing or modifying the graphics.

Above: Here is the other thing to consider. What is the value of these take-offs? I will use most of this stuff eventually. Except for the plastic grips that I cut-off with a Stanley Quick Slide utility knife. And there is also a good set of handlebars that no doubt have some value. So all things considered, I would say a conservative value of the take-offs is 30.00 . Subtracting the 30.00 the build Total Cost is $161.50 (not including taxes and shipping). (Take-Offs : New parts removed for upgrade or personal preference)

Above: Just before the Holidays I picked-up this rolling tool box. I thought it would be handy when I need to take some tools on the road with me. It has already worked-out well for bringing tools in the house. That's when I have some "not so dirty work" that I can do indoors. BELOW: The bike as new from the store

I was so bloody tired when I wrote this, that I forgot to close. So Until Next Time, Please RIDE SAFE and Remember to Always RESCUE RESTORE & RECYCLE!
Cheers, Hugh

A sincere Thank You to those of you who have been using or just checking out "Hugh's Online Bike Shop". It is pretty well stocked now and it is getting a little more organized every day. If you have not visited it yet and would like to. The link is in the top right column just below the Followers. And the Amazon Search feature is still located at the bottom of the right column. And I am in the process of adding word links to the components, tools and supplies I use everyday. The word links like Hugh's Online Bike Shop are powered by amazon.com Using any of these feature will help support this blog. Thanks for your continued support.
Cheers, Hugh

Bikes, Balance, and Riding No Hands

So, yesterday something monumentally cool happened: I rode no hands for the first time. (Before anyone points out that the picture shows one hand on the bars - this is not captured in the picture!) I was alone with no one to witness my no-hands magnificence but the drivers passing me on the quiet side street. I had both hands off, and not just hovering above the bars, but properly off - dangling at my sides as I sat back on the saddle. I rode that way for an entire block, then put my hands back on the bars when it was time to turn. Then I took them off again and rode that way for another couple of blocks. I would have kept practicing, but it was freezing. 

I was riding the Paper Bicycle, coming home from skating, and somehow the bike seemed to whisper to me "You can take your hands off the bars now, do it..." - so I did. I was absolutely amazed that I could do it, and that it felt relatively safe and intuitive. The front wheel just kept going unwaveringly straight as I pedaled. But having tried the same maneuver on a couple of other bikes (both upright and road), it didn't work and the front end seemed way too unstable with my hands off the handlebars. So this appears to be bike-specific for me. I am wondering what it is that makes some bikes easier to ride no hands than others.  If I practice long enough on the Paper Bicycle, will I eventually feel comfortable riding a "normal bike" no hands as well, or is the skill unlikely to transfer? I will try not to get too excited, but this is making me feel like maybe I am not an entirely hopeless case!

The Starship Has Landed

As some might recall, I've had a Paper Bicycle on loan since November - but haven't been riding it for transportation because it lacked a rear rack. Not only did it lack one, but the unique frame construction made it challenging to install one aftermarket. Clearly a bicycle as distinct as this called for a custom solution. Turns out the manufacturer had been developing a special rack all along, it just wasn't quite ready. He asked me to hold off on the review so that he could send me the latest prototype. And sure enough, shortly after the holidays it arrived: Behold the Paper Bicycle "Starship" rack!

Trying to picture a suitable rack for this bicycle, my imagination was failing me. While I appreciate the unique and contemporary design, I do not understand it sufficiently - either visually or structurally - to conjure up a rack that would integrate flawlessly with the rest of the bike. What form would it take? How would it connect? How could it be made strong enough to support a great deal of weight (after all, this bike is all about utility), but minimalist enough so that it would not overwhelm the frame itself? Seeing the prototype answered all of these questions. The "Starship" rack adds utility without undermining the bike's unique design, and it does so by literally plugging into the frame's integrated chaincase. 

To install the rack, its tubing is simply inserted into the ever so slightly thicker chaincase tubing, using  hammer to really push it in there. The expander screw on the righthand side is then loosened to further secure the connection. The installation is impressively solid, resulting in a rack that looks seamlessly integrated with the frame. Total installation time was maybe 5 minutes. 

While not secured to the fender or any other part of the bike, this does not seem necessary, as there is no side-to-side play. The rack is solid, and, according to the manufacturer, can support the weight of a person. My requirements are more modest:  I just want it to support my panniers and occasionally some packages.

The rack's tubing is very thick and does not in fact support standard pannier quick-release attachment hooks, such as those by Ortlieb, Jand, Basil, and R&K. It will however support the Po Campo system very nicely, and of course the double-panniers that hang over the rack's platform, as well as any pannier that attaches via straps and not quick-release hooks. I do not think that the rack's tubing choice can or should be altered, as the thick tubing is what gives it strength. But the bike's owner will have to choose their pannier system accordingly. The Paper Bicycle has long chainstays, and the rack's stays move it back even further, so that there is no chance of heel strike. 

As far as strapping packages onto the rack, attaching bungee cords can be a bit tricky - and not all bungee hooks will fit securely around the tubing. In the final production iteration of this rack, a special tab for bungee hook attachment would be helpful. 

The Starship rack is not a lightweight rack - a couple of pounds for sure. This makes the bicycle noticeably heavier to lift, but so far I have not felt any effect on handling or speed. Riding the bike for 10 miles around town in the freezing cold and wind this morning, it felt just as zippy and effortless to pedal as I remember it being pre-rack. I will ride the Paper Bicycle some more (hopefully it will snow again, as I've been trying to test it in the snow) and should have a review soon. In the meantime, what do you think of the rack? 

How I Tried to Go Skating

As part of my commute I often take a shortcut through the back of Harvard Yard, and some time around early December a mysterious construction site appeared there. At first I was annoyed to have to go around it. But as the construction took shape, it began to look suspiciously like... Could it be? Oh my goodness yes, a skating rink! One afternoon last week the construction fence was suddenly gone and the rink open. Just like that!

I could hardly pedal fast enough to get close and read the bright crimson sign. And guess what? It is free to skate there, and $5 to rent skates. Technically I still own a pair of skates circa 1995, though sadly I have not been able to find them since we moved to Boston. I can picture these skates vividly in my mind: They were white with jet-black heels and shiny blades, utterly beautiful, and they cost $29.99 at Olympia Sports. "I will buy them for you, if you really think you can do it this time," my mother said. And I nodded vigorously. Oh how I wanted those skates!

Perhaps now is a good time to explain that the intensity of my love for skating is matched only by my utter lack of ability. Born to a set of parents who skated proficiently since childhood and believed it to be the most natural thing in the world, I stunned them with my clumsiness and lack of coordination.

I remember my first time on the ice: It was a crisp winter evening not long before my 4th birthday, and a huge skating rink was set up in the park under garlands of lights. My mother - a slender, elegant beauty in a tailored overcoat - glided across the ice effortlessly with a serene smile on her face... as she dragged her little piggy of a daughter along, who flailed and stumbled and continued to be dragged to the sounds of Tchaikovsky blasting from the park's loudspeaker system. "Don't worry, you'll get it!" my mother would say as she glanced down at me occasionally. But mostly she lost herself in the music and glided, dragging me across the ice regardless of whether I was upright or not.

Attempts to get me to skate continued through that and a couple of subsequent winters, but my skills showed little sign of improvement. The "don't worry, you'll get it!" gave way to "but you're not even trying!" until finally my mother gave up. But my yearning for the ice remained, and every winter I sighed as I watched the figure skaters on television. As a teenager I asked for a pair of skates for my birthday and began to visit a local rink on my own - skating in a slow and duck-like manner close to the guard rail. I was remarkably bad, but somehow I still enjoyed it. I took these skates with me to college, grad school, and beyond, visiting local rinks for more of the same. And now I can continue here!

Yesterday I knew that I would finally have an hour gap in my day, and I made sure to withdraw some cash. I was ready to rent skates and I cycled to Harvard Yard full of anticipation.

But of course I should have known that it would not be so easy! Just days after the snow storm, the temperature had shot up to nearly 50°F by mid-day and when I arrived the rink was closed "due to weather." So, I have yet to go skating. But at least I tried. And I'll try again as soon as the temperature drops and my schedule allows. 

Cycling past the rink last week, I did notice the skates they were using and was a little disappointed that they were a sort of brownish-beige. I want some white ones like I had before, and am thinking that maybe I should get a new pair of my own. Third time could be a charm, and I might actually learn how to skate... though I'm not holding my breath!