Monday, September 27, 2010

Chapter Excerpt - Eagle Crash

The following excerpt comes from Martin Krieg's new book, "How America Can Bike and Grow Rich" , due March 2011.

The miles of bike lanes on lightly traveled neighborhood streets continued all the way to  the border of Palo Alto. There the Wilkie Way Bridge carried us alongside a creek into our next Mayors' Ride city. Fully enshrouded by massive oaks and other trees, it is a piece of engineering mastery. In order to construct a bike way at this location, concrete pillars had to be  sunk deep into the ground at the edge of one side of the creek. In such a way a ledge could be hung off the backyards the stream passes through. It is on the five foot wide path that resulted that an important bicycle transportation  corridor has evolved. Through here great numbers of cyclists pass  everyday on their way up and down the San Francisco peninsula.

It was also nearby, on my way to it,  that my hopes to become the first to cross America on the Eagle were put on hold. Having just set out on a training ride on my way to the  bridge, I wasn’t but a few blocks away when a  car made a left turn in front of me. All I could do was turn  with him when he clobbered my wheel so hard, I flew off the back of the bike.

Two things were working in my favor when all of  this happened. First of all, I was on an Eagle, so instead of getting my  head  launched into the asphalt for certain catastrophe, I  landed on my butpak. Second, if I had been at regular bicycle height, his bumper would have crushed my legs and probably even done severe damage to my internal organs.

At any rate, I survived well enough to walk my destroyed bike back to the bus. The wheel had been almost folded in half. Nor would we be able to assess how much damage had been done to the bike’s heart and soul, the hub, in enough time to keep our  ride on schedule even if we did get the wheel rebuilt. This was so because the only expert, Jim Spillane, the man who had painstakingly re-manufactured  this machine, lived in Connecticut, on the other side  of the US. All of which brought the ride to this year.

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Sunday, September 26, 2010

Chapter Excerpt - Why I Ride an Eagle


A group of  fixed gear cyclists  waited. One of the  riders was holding a trackstand, a maneuver where the cyclist sits on his bike seat and keeps it upright and balanced. Since our bikes were also fixed, the original version where the pedals connect directly to the wheel without a chain or sprockets in between, the trackstand on a HiWheel was once an important skill to learn. Though few present day HiWheelers take the time to master being able to do so, I found this ability important to my being able to enjoy a Car Free lifestyle  on my Ordinary (another name for the traditional tall wheel).

Learning to trackstand gave me a better mastery over my high bike in crowded areas. Some examples of this include  gridlocked streets, busy shopping districts, even the Critical Mass or San Jose Bike Party rides that I like to attend. With what looks like a trick to most, I did not have to get off and on the bike at traffic lights or for whatever other stops the congestion in my path could otherwise force me to make. I could also stop and hold a stand to have a brief conversation with those people along my way. 

I had spent many hours learning to trackstand. In doing so, I had had to endure a lot of bumps, bruises and cuts, even many embarrassing falls. But just as I was getting more and more confident and better, the Eagle appeared  While  rumor has it that a trackstand is possible on one, I suspect that I will always be so consumed with looking for ways to get places faster or more efficiently on the Eagle, that I may not even try to see if a controlled stall is even possible on one.

The few dozen times I did try, I always went off the back end once I got the bike delayed. This is because in order to keep  from getting launched into the sometimes fatal header that made  conventional HiWeel bikes so dangerous, the Eagle's center of gravity was placed behind the rider. As a result, the Eagle cyclist is always in a gentle struggle to keep the front wheel from popping off the ground. If that were to happen, if his mind were to wander from the task at hand, for instance, he could easily slide off the rear of the machine and probably crash.

I also can’t seem to ride with no hands on the Eagle. Nor is such a skill set all about show  when one is in the tall wheel saddle for any length of time. Since it is useful to be able to get both hands free while still pedaling, not having to stop to put on or take off a jacket, adjust a helmet or sunglasses or  peel the wrapper off an energy bar, for example, all become little pleasures that add to the joy of being on an Ordinary. The on the road performance of an Eagle, however, makes it easy for me to overlook some of the smaller things I can no longer do on it.

The Eagle, for example can climb hills with fervor. Unlike the traditional HiWheel cyclist, long  known to have walked both sides of a mountain, the Eagle rider can climb out of the saddle to get up inclines. In being able to jockey the bike back and forth while ascending, besides being able to add leverage, he also won’t find himself sitting on a wheel that burns rubber as it goes nowhere. When riding the typical tall seat of the 19th Century, I always found the steeper the pitch, if I was even moving at all, the more the wheel used to slip out on me.

Once the summit is reached, the Eagle can also be used to descend in style as well as comfort. Since the pedals never stop on a Penny Farthing, being able to cross one’s feet in front of the steer tube is  easy to do when descending on an Eagle. It is also a great way to relax. On the traditional HiWheel, however, one must get his legs over the top of the handlebars in order to be free of the spinning pedals. A difficult position to get into, it also puts its rider in a dangerous position that is then hard to escape from should the need arise.

When I Eagled from San Francisco to Salt Lake City in 2009, in climbing the Sierras and across the most mountainous state in the Union, Nevada, for example, I was in and out of the saddle many times - on both sides of most all the peaks I transcended. This explains why mine was the first high bike to ever have been actually pedaled over these Ranges.

Even on the flats, the Eagle is far more efficient  than  the traditional HiWheel. Because the Eagle cyclist does not pedal the same wheel he is steering, like one does on the normal Penny Farthing, he can ankle. What this means is that he can take advantage of the full pedal stroke by pulling up as well as pushing down on the pedals. This also means, not only can more force be generated but that the steering itself is not affected by what the stronger and far more powerful legs are doing. To illustrate, if you are riding no hands on a standard HiWheel, how straight you go is in direct proportion to how well you only push down on the pedals. By pulling up on them, you involve your arms as they fight to make those corrections needed to keep you on course.

There are certain actions that make the Eagle exciting to be around. It is always easy to get a crowd together to watch me start. While my climbing out of the saddle to accelerate also turns heads, if I really want to hold people's attention, I can jump off the back of the bike to make it stop. In doing so,  the smaller front wheel shoots six feet above the street. This as I do a wide plant with my feet while holding the handlebars at shoulder height.

A bike that came about during the last two years of the HiWheel era (1869-1892), the Eagle is likely what we'd all be riding if the pneumatic tire and refinements in the chain had not made the smaller wheels of today possible. Blessed with the honor of riding Jim Spillane's celebrated and near exact re-creation of the 1891 Eagle, regularly affirms for me why I feel the Eagle was the highest art form of the Industrial Revolution that shaped the America we know.

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