Chicago Bike Blog

Off road

Robby, Jimbo, Sam, Jason & Ronnie at Palos (Chris wielding the camera)

In the spirit of exploring various cycling styles, members of the Rapid Transit crew recently found themselves riding off-road in Palos Hills in the southwest suburbs. Back when we opened our shop 15 year ago, virtually all we could get was mountain bikes. Finding city tires for your bike was a challenge, let alone a whole urban bike.

Things are a little different today. It's been many years since we've stocked more than a couple of models of mountain bikes, and we put in a lot more miles on asphalt than on singletrack. So, to shake things up a bit, a few brave souls went out last weekend to explore the best in Chicago-area off-road trails.

In case you are wondering if these trails are challenging, here are some strategies that our strong urban cyclists utilized in conquering them:

Grinding and bike-assisted hiking.

Just hiking.

Vocalizing.

Triumphant cyclocross-style trotting.

Stay tuned for this weekend's shop recumbent ride!

Too good not to post

If you've ever wondered who is behind the wonderful improvements for cyclists in Chicago over that past many years, read this (helmet tip to Rob Sadowsky):
Straight Dope Chicago: How come I have to pay $40 for Bike the Drive?

To serve and protect?

"A veteran Chicago police officer was charged Saturday in the fatal hit-and-run that killed a 13-year-old boy who had sneaked outside to ride his bike with friends on the South Side Friday." according to the Chicago Tribune.

The off-duty cop was allegedly driving under the influence of alcohol, and failed to stop after he fatally struck the boy.

My deepest sympathy and condolences go out to Trenton Booker's family.

Down!

(Who else? Bill Watterson)

Wish I could say I don't remember when I last fell of my bike. Unfortunately, I remember it vividly. It was May 19, 1991, less than four months before my scheduled September wedding. The place: the Chicago lakefront, just north of Oak Street Beach, long before the surface was smoothed, repaved and beautified with palm trees.
I accepted an idiotic dare to hop a block of concrete from my husband-to-be, and chickened out at the last minute, executing instead a classic face plant. This resulted in a vertical line of swollen black scabs that adorned my forehead, nose, upper lip and chin for several weeks. I was so bummed out, that when I caught a kid staring at me in the checkout line at Jewel, I stuck my tongue out at him.
Anyway, that was sheer stupidity. I've never fallen in the ordinary act of riding my bike down the street. Until this week.
There we were, many years after that fateful dare, riding peacefully down Lawrence Ave., approaching a red light at Western. I gently slowed down, shifting into a lower gear in my accustomed way, when I sensed that something was wrong. Very briefly. For presently, I was airborne, and conscious of landing heavily on my left side.
Luckily, the cars were not moving, stopped at the red light.
What happened? demanded Chris.
I didn't know! It seemed like everything I did was perfectly ordinary, and yet, I knew I had made a mistake an instant before I fell.
As we dragged our bikes toward Cafe Salmarie in Lincoln Square,  I stared down at my handlebars dejectedly. And it slowly dawned on me what went wrong.

(Bracing my fingers on the handlebar, as I shift with my thumb)

My twenty-year-old bike sports Shimano Deore thumbshifters, the kind that are not really made anymore.  As I shift into lower gears, I'm actually fighting several forces working against me: I'm pushing the chain onto the largest cog in the rear, I'm stretching the gear cable to its maximum tautness, and I'm fighting against the spring of the rear derailleur. All with my right thumb. So, to give that thumb more leverage, I take the fingers of my right hand off the rear brake lever, and brace them against the handlebar.

(Braking with my left hand only. Bad idea.)

Because I'm approaching the red light, and am conscious of the need to slow down, my left hand continues to squeeze the front break. The phenomenally effective Mathauser brake pads engage the front rim, the front wheels stays planted, while the rear one bucks up, and sends Justyna sailing onto the asphalt!....
The weirdest thing is, that this is what I habitually do. As we continued riding that day (I wasn't badly hurt), I realized I did the same thing each and every time I approached an intersection.
Chris' immediate solution was to switch the shifters on my bike. But, I pointed out, with these same shifters on my bike for the last twenty years, this was the only time I fell because of the shifting problem. I'm not sure this calls for a whole drivetrain makeover.
I think the lesson learned is this. Well... two lessons. One, don't stop the bike using only the front brake. Two, it's very hard to stay really focused. When we are comfortably used to something, we relax, and let our attention drift. Maybe I should get those shifters changed just to shake things up a bit, and start paying attention.

Crazy

Yesterday, I waited for the light to turn green in the left turn lane of northbound Damen at the three-way intersection with Irving Park and Lincoln. I was on my bike, in front of a long line of cars. As soon as the light turned green and the road was clear, and I pulled out into the middle of the intersection, a driver of an SUV proceeding straight on Damen thought it fit to roll down his window to shout the words "You're crazy!" as he sped past me.

Crazy?

I have over twenty years of experience using my bike for transportation in Chicago. I am familiar with the laws pertaining to the use of bicycles on urban streets, and (with one important exception) obey those laws. I do not use any devices on my bike that distract me from concentrating on what I'm doing. I don't run red lights. I wear a helmet. I use hand signals. In all my street cycling, I try to act cautiously and predictably so as not to endanger or aggrevate others around me. And the vast majority of cyclists I see around me do all those things too.

Crazy is when you bike against traffic. Crazy is when you cycle on a street with your hands off the handlebars. Crazy is when you are in traffic with heaphones on. Or when you use your cellphone while biking.

Or driving.

And, speaking of driving, crazy is when you commit your entire life to a blind dependence on a car, and don't for a moment consider that there might be a better alternative. And even if this alternative doesn't work for you, it's crazy to make that decision for others around you. And crazy is deliberately startling a cyclist trying to concentrate on her maneuvers in the middle of one of the busiest intersections in Chicago.

Dream of independent travel

You probably often walk into your local bike shop for quite prosaic reasons. Maybe you need a tube, or you need the drivetrain cleaned, or help removing the frozen seatpost, or pedal, or bottom bracket. And we help you out with that, because that's what we are here for. But if our job description read "removing stuck parts from bikes", life wouldn't be very exciting for us, and chances are, you'd receive mediocre service.

Rapid Transit Cycleshop is often described as the "urban" or "commuter" shop. I'm not sure that this does justice to what we actually do. What we did set out to do is to enable cyclists in Chicago to use their bicycles in ways that they envisioned, without judgment or intimidation. We wanted to participate in their vision. We have also always felt that transportation was a viable and appropriate use for the bicycle. And it simply happened that in a dense urban area like Wicker Park, there were quite a few people whose vision of the bicycle included transportation.When we opened the shop in 1994, we felt that much of the bike industry at the time, including bike companies and bike shops, were unresponsive to urban cyclists' needs, so we eagerly stepped in to fill the niche.

Perhaps the urban image that has grown up around us also has to do with our name. We deliberately called ourselves Rapid Transit, because we felt that bicycles were at least as sensible and efficient at public transit. For many years, we also used the tagline "We're Chicago's Transportation Alternative". Although this further played on the idea of comparing ourselves to the urban transit system (playing on the abbreviation of Chicago Transit Authority), what it meant to us, is that we offered folks who wanted to cycle real alternatives.

A bike, of course, is an alternative to a car, or train, or bus, or traveling on foot. However, we also felt that there were very few alternatives for the cycling public among the offerings of local bike shops. We wanted to change that. We were not after defining what a cyclist should be. We wanted to open up the possibilities of what he or she could be.

For example in 1994, with one Vision R40 in stock, we became Chicago's first recumbent bicycle dealer. Every year since then we have expanded or fine-tuned our recumbent offerings, and currently stock several brands and configurations of both recumbent bicycles and adult trikes. These are not traditionally considered "urban" bikes, yet a number of our customers use them extensively on the streets of Chicago.

For several years, we tried unsuccessfully to incorporate folding bikes into the mix. There simply were no US manufacturers or distributors who were set up to sell folders through a dealer network. Fortunately, several years ago that changed, and we now offer a selection of models from several different manufacturers, that give cyclists travel options simply not available with a standard bike.

Over the past fifteen years, we have seen many trends in bikes come and go. No one type of bike can fill the needs of a huge and diverse cycling population: not hybrid, not recumbent, not folding, not fixie, not road, not mountain, not Chinese, not even Dutch. Thus, we offer many different bikes, because there are many different kinds of cyclists.

Recently, we had a chance to revisit our old tagline, and really think about what it means. What does it mean to be Chicago's Transportation Alternative? It's not just who we are and what we offer. In fact, that's only a small part of it. What really matters is what you want, and how we can help that come about. Why do you want to bike? What are your dreams?

We noticed that many people coming in to look for a bike, to repair a bike, to get back on a bike, to find a different, more appropriate type of bike, were looking, in some measure, for freedom, autonomy, intependence. Freedom from traffic, from stress, from the city, from the car, from gas, from illness or injury, from convention, from routine. They expressed a desire to escape, in bigger or smaller ways, from something that was limiting or holding them back.

And our job, the way we see it, is to help them realize their dreams of independent travel.

What to do about the weather

The old saying, you know, the one that says if you don't like the weather in Chicago, just wait ten minutes, has not been holding true this year. After a long wintry season, many of us were eagerly looking forward to the glorious warm spring days, but those have been few and far between. It seams that winter and springs have conspired to make us extra miserable this year.

I don't know why it is that the weather can affect our mood and actions to the extent that it does. Many decisions about our social engagements, recreational activities, fitness and transportation are influenced by the weatherman. Our outlook is subject to the whims of the elements. Our media both assume and dictate that people respond in predictable ways to the weather: if it is cold, we're supposed to feel lazy and crave comfort food; if it is sunny, we're to attack life with zest and vigor; if it rains, we're to stay indoors with a cup of tea and a good book until the skies clear.

But weather isn't good or bad; it just is. And since you can't change it, you might as well change the way you respond to it. We can learn to enjoy different types of weather at different times of the year. For urban cyclists who ride year-round, climate control has as much to do with gear as it does with attitude.

And here is where cyclists have an edge. Your attitude is practically guaranteed to change as soon as you get on your bike. If you ride out of doors and it's pouring rain, you're not going to get very far thinking: "I'm so miserable, it's raining..." More likely, you're gonna clench your teeth, brace yourself and take a determined plunge. And there is nothing like that can-do feeling of independence to give your attitude a healthy boost. By the end of the ride, you may even feel like that was really fun. On my best rainy rides, I've felt like a kid who got away with splashing in a puddle.

On the practical side, you may find that having a good rain suit and fenders on your bike helps your attitude remain positive throughout your ride. Similarly, a waterproof bag will protect your papers and belongings, so you don't have to stress about them as you battle the elements. A dry change of clothes is essential. Shivering in wet clothes all day might spoil your outlook on life.

It's not just cold and rain that keep people off their bikes. In the summer, you're more likely to be concerned about sweat and grime when you're on your way to work. Take a clue from a Japanese restaurant with their pre-meal steaming washcloth treatment. Make room in your bike bag for a small zip-lock bag filled with a washcloth (I vastly prefer this to baby-wipe type disposable cloths), and a small bottle of refreshing cleanser (Sea Breeze, witch hazel, or tea tree oil come to mind). Now, given some hot running water, your washcloth and five minutes at the sink, you'll come out looking clean, smelling fresh and feeling great.

The other side of the counter

By guest writer Sam Van Dellen

One of the things that's helpful in life is the ability to see things from the point of view of someone else. If you are a bicycle consumer, chances are you don't often get to look at bikes from the point of view of someone in the bike industry.

So here are some things from the other side of the counter about bikes, bike shops, bike shop employees, bike companies.

Let's start with bikes and the companies that make them.

A bike's a bike.  Bicycle manufacturer is a bit of a misnomer. Any bicycle with a brand name you recognize probably comes out of one of a small handful of factories in the Far East.  Thus, Kona, Trek, Marin, etc. are more properly called "bicycle brands". They commission the factories to manufacture bikes for them according to certain specs.

These different companies will have different ideas of how a bicycle should fit, or what parts are more important to spend more money on: some emphasize frame materials, or the components, or perhaps comfort features. But basically, any number of bikes in the range of money you are willing to spend will represent a comparable value, and quality, and work well for you. 

Bicycle companies are in the business of making money by selling bikes, so of course, each one is trying to get you to buy their bikes. This is not a bad thing.  The more bikes they sell, the longer they stay in business, the better bikes they can produce, hopefully getting more people on bikes in the process.

One of the ways they try to get you to buy their bike, instead of one built by another company, is to specify high quality parts for the bike in the places where it's important or that you will notice, and put lower quality parts where it's less important or noticeable. They do this to keep the cost of the bicycle at a "price point" which research has shown customers commonly are willing to spend.  Again, not a bad thing in and of itself, although sometimes they end up going cheaper on some things than they should.

In fact, in some cases companies specifically put on the cheapest reasonable item because they know customers have strong preferences, and will replace those items anyway.  So, the company can pack more value into the bike by skimping on, say,  tires or pedals.  The tires that come on your bicycle will be ok for a while, but it's assumed that you'll be replacing them before too long with something you or the bike shop employee helping you has found is the best for your purpose.  Higher-end bicycles often come without pedals, as most people who have been riding long enough to want a fancy bike have a specific style of pedal that they want to use, and rather than put something on that they'll just end up selling or trading in, they short-cut the process.

What does this mean to you when you are shopping for a bike? Don't focus on the brand, as much as on how you plan to use the bike. Discuss that with your salesperson, and let him or her guide you toward a bike that has put the most value into those features that will provide the greatest benefit to you.

Which brings us to: bike shop employees.

When you walk into a bike shop, you probably see a bunch of bearded, tattooed guys that look scary (and maybe cool?) and you may feel uneasy or intimidated.  In reality, they're not scary at all. You need to trust me on this: I work with these guys every day. They are probably friends you haven't met yet, who love bikes and want to share that love with you.  They are delighted to see you. You help make sure they get paid. They probably are cool in the sense that they care, not in the sense that they feel superior to you. If you're going into the sort of shop that has your best interests in mind, they want to help you get on the best bike for you.

I'll tell ya too, your needs for your bicycle are probably not the same as anybody else's, and a good salesperson or mechanic understands that.  They're really going to ask you a lot of questions and use your answers to get the best bike for you. 

Another thing you should know is that bike shop employees do not work for a bike shop for fabulous wealth. It isn't there to be had. The real reasons people work at bike shops are love of bikes and love of people.  You can't stay sane if you're doing it for any other reason, at least in a shop like Rapid Transit.

So on to the bike shop itself. 

There are all sorts of shops, so it makes sense to shop around a bit. And I don't mean price. While there are always places to get a cheaper bike, it's really important that you are aware that there is more to a bicycle than a price tag.  I cannot stress enough the importance of proper assembly and maintenance of a bicycle. Take the time to find a shop that takes initial assembly and follow-up maintenance very seriously. Ask if they allow test rides, what kind of service they do after you buy the bike and what hoops they'll make you jump through to get it, what sorts of things should you expect from your new bike, that sort of thing.  If you're feeling pressured to buy something, you should probably leave.

Some shops are better at what they do than others. Some are more focused on the sale than the relationship. In my opinion, this is not really what you want in a bike shop. If you plan on having any kind of relationship with your bike, you better plan on having one with a bike shop, too. At Rapid Transit, when you buy a bicycle, you're entering into a new, hopefully fantastic relationship with your bicycle, the shop, as well as the employees.  

Sam Van Dellen manages the Service Department
at Rapid Transit Cycleshop