Workcycles rider Matt Ransford sent this photo from Hong Kong. He added that there aren’t many bikes to be seen in Hong Kong but those you see look like they’ve been around for a long time and they all have rod operated brakes. Thanks for passing that along Matt!

I seem to recall Hong Kong being David Byrne’s pick for World’s Worst Cycling City.

This delivery bike, with its big basket type front carrier affixed to the frame is just like old English delivery bikes. This, of course, was way back when it was still commonplace for tradespeople and delivery boys in the UK to move their goods about by bicycle. This connection is no great surprise given that Hong Kong was a British colony until recently.

An English Gundle Model U trade bike. Photo by Sprocket316 on Flickr.

This colonial (work)bike connection is actually rather consistent, if limited to the colonizing countries that exported bikes and cycling: England and the Netherlands. Perhaps there are other examples (Italian style bikes in Libya? French “porteur” bikes in Tunisia?) but I’m not familiar with them.

In India all of the city bikes and delivery bikes follow the styles of English bikes from about the 1950′s. There are apparently many classic Dutch bikes in Indonesia that can hardly even be found in the Netherlands anymore. I wrote about beautiful, old Dutch bikes in Indonesia here. In Indonesian rickshaws the driver sits in back and passengers sit up front over the two wheeled axle, just like a traditional Dutch bakfiets.

Indonesian rickshaws by Elrentaplats on Flickr.

Current production Workcycles heavy-duty bakfiets. Photo by me.

How Indian and Chinese rickshaws and cargo tricycles ended up with the passengers or load in the rear is unclear to me, since English carrier tricycles usually also had their loads up front and riders behind.. Perhaps they began by modifying standard bicycles, in which case it’s somewhat easier to add a two wheeled rear end than front end. Alternatively maybe these places already had a tradition of foot powered rickshaws so the obvious progression was to put a bicycle in front. Does anybody have some insights here?

Rickshaw loaded up with lots of some sort of container, I assume empty. Photo by Luren J. on Flickr.

Chinese cargo trike, today as family vehicle. Photo by Tom Resink of Workcycles.

The Sinterklaas “Intocht” (arrival parade) needs no introduction for the locals who began chasing Sinterklaas and his many “Zwarte Pieten”along the Amstel river and through the streets of Amsterdam as toddlers. It goes approximately as follows:

Sinterklaas is the Dutch equivalent of Santa Claus. While they’re both apparently Saint Nicholas only Sint’s white beard bears any resemblance to the fat “Ho Ho Ho!” fellow in the red snowsuit who flies his reindeer driven sleigh from the North Pole. Sinterklaas is tall, skinny, serious and righteous. He comes not from the north, but by ship from Spain. Sint himself is not actually Spanish; he’s Turkish. I suppose it’s all really a lot less weird than flying a reindeer powered sleigh from the North Pole.


Sinterklaas on his white horse


Santa Claus in his reindeer-powered flying sleigh

While Santa Claus has some elves to help him out Sint has an entire army of Zwarte Pieten (Black Petes). The Pieten do the heavy lifting as well as the “naughty or nice” judging of the children. Naughty children get their gifts replaced by coal and truly heinous kids are stuffed into a sack and brought back to Spain. I’ve never been clear on just what despicable crimes a child must commit to be sentenced to a holiday in Spain but I assume it must be worse than struggling to avoid having their teeth brushed or head-butting their baby sister.

Pascal didn’t get stuffed into a sack and brought to Spain but he did get a bunch of pepernoten dumped on his head by a mischievous Piet.

Depending on who’s telling the story in what era Zwarte Piet has variously been depicted as a shackled devil, a chimney sweep, a Moor colorfully dressed as a renaissance era page, or a Moor colorfully dressed as a renaissance era page whose face is blacked from descending many chimneys. The first explanation has been abandoned since it doesn’t sound nice to modern children and the rest each have their modern adherents. In the modern tradition Zwarte Piet, or rather an entire battalion of Zwarte Pieten, have been played by men and women in blackface which provokes a surprisingly little bit of controversy for it’s being potentially racist (depending on which version of the story you want to believe).

Only confusing an already convoluted story: A Moorish Piet probably wouldn’t even be black since what the Europeans referred to as “Moors” were mostly Berbers and Arabs from northern Africa. As a resident of a city with a considerable population with roots in this region I can assure you that they’re usually not particularly dark skinned. But heck, Shakespeare also portrayed Othello as black in so who am I to argue? Not that any of this is terribly relevant aside from showing how confused traditions can get.

Racist or controversial or not this is an enormously popular celebration, as witnessed by some half million happy fans lining the streets of Amsterdam in the rain (remember: We’re not made of sugar.) cheering the arrival of Sinterklaas and 670 Zwarte Pieten. Interestingly I spotted what seemed to be a handful of black Zwarte Pieten, also in blackface of course.

Each year Sint and the Pieten load up a ship full of “pepernoten” (little cookies like ginger snaps) and stuff in Spain and sail for Holland. Their exact route is unclear but they do end up sailing up the Amstel, which is odd considering that this is inland from Amsterdam. Perhaps they’ve chosen another inland route to pick up carrots for the horses or something.

Zwarte Piet with a nice big carrot for the horses.

Once they reach the Amstel thousands of families with kids on bikes and in bakfietsen ride along the banks cheering Sint and the Pieten onward. The ship lands by the Scheepvaartsmuseum (the shipping museum) in the center of Amsterdam and Zwarte Pieten and Sint parade through the streets in all manner of Dutch vehicles and conveyances.

Inline skate Piet with balance bike Pascal.

Sinterklaas rides his white horse while the various Pieten show their preferences for Workcycles transport bikes, but also inline skates, unicycles, fire engines and in an unfortunate development this year: scooters. Yuck, we don’t like scooters, but we’ll discuss the problem of scooters on the bike paths another day.

Degenerate Pieten on scooters

Meanwhile we’re doing our best to keep our own kids from going down the gateway drug, slippery slope of scooterdom, beginning of course by cycling daily with them from about a month old.

A couple young bakfiets passengers

It could eventually backfire but thus far it seems to be working; Pascal is absolutely crazy about his teeny bike, insisting on riding it everywhere we go. He calls it his “Beanits bicycle” (BMX bicycle). Not only are we getting a kick out of watching him ride we’re also not complaining about no longer having to carry him around, nor about him coming home exhausted from a day of “cycling” all over the city, ready for a nap.

At such a young age (two) kids learn such motor skills amazingly quickly. After just a couple weeks on the bike Pascal figured out he could push off and ride with his feet in the air. Two weeks later he’s maneuvering along busy sidewalks, up and down Amsterdam’s cobblestoned bridges and “jumping” off steps and curbs. Obviously we don’t let him get too far since a two year old’s judgement must be pretty close to nil but he’s been very well behaved so far… which partially explains why he didn’t get shipped to Spain last week.

His first Halloween costume? The great Eddy Merckx of course!

Much of the world is now (re)discovering the joy and practicality of cycling for transportation, often blissfully unaware of how it’s been done elsewhere for a century. So, to use an obvious expression, they’re reinventing the wheel with, as a few examples…

Thus the photo above of Stephan, Workcycles shop foreman and generally amazingly handy guy… carrying a small tree in a box a few kilometers home after work. His bike of choice? A filthy but perfectly functional, pre-war Magneet Opafiets. Not only is no special bike or carrier necessary, Stephan didn’t even bother to secure the tree. Nope, just like the Dutch carry a crate of beer balanced on the rear carrier Stephan rode home with one hand on the handlebar (Yay for coaster brakes!) and one hand steadying the tree. I was cycling the other direction to pick up my son at the daycare but I imagine Stephan just rode a little slower than usual. I’m sure the time “lost” by cycling slowly was more than compensated by the time “saved” in skipping the special preparations… if those couple minutes are even relevant.

Stephan “maintaining” his dirty, old Magneet

Perhaps more relevant is that riding that tree home by bike was the only imaginable transport solution. Had it been bigger he would have borrowed a bakfiets for the evening. Every Workcycles employee cycles to work every day, not out of idealism or self-sacrifice but because that’s just the best way to get around. Actually from our perspective its the only way to get around. In a town where it’s as normal as day and night to ride bikes one hardly even knows how to go about their business by another mode of transport. I’d rather just get wet on a rainy day than search out the best way to go by tram. I find driving a car annoying only partially because of the traffic. The bigger issue is that I just don’t know which routes to take, what the parking rules are in various districts or even how to operate the strange parking ticket machines. All that and we don’t have a car anyway. My morning route consists of cycling my son two kilometers to the daycare and then continuing on about a kilometer to work. Evening is the opposite. We do this in sun, rain, snow and winter darkness and I’ve never really considered another way to do it. Why would I? Cycling with Pascal is one of the highlights of the day.

Another difference between an established cycling culture and the emerging one is that people don’t look for excuses to ride, nor do they often gather for the purpose of riding (a certain type of) bikes. Critical Mass, Tweed rides, Cycle Chic rides, bicycle house moves etc are certainly all harmless fun and, depending on your perspective, good or bad for the promotion of cycling. But for me there’s just something artificial or staged about them. Take the tweed/cycle chic rides for example: I totally understand and respect the reaction to the dominant male, techno-equipped lycra/carbon/helmet cycling look and attitude of the emerging cycling culture. But isn’t there a danger that the tweed chic costume thing just makes cycling from A to B to C too elitist and class stratified in the other direction?

In any case tweed/chic rides, critical masses and the likes are irrelevant in the Netherlands, perhaps much in the same way fixed gear bikes won’t catch on here; These are artifacts of an emerging cycle culture.

This doesn’t mean you won’t see groups of cyclists riding together or just headed for the same destination in an established cycling culture. Actually you do all the time:

Groups of sports fans headed to watch or participate in event

School kids riding to school

Even hundreds of people dressed as angels going to a big party with a religious theme

Come to think of it it’s very common for one to move their furnishings from one apartment to another by bike, more specifically with a big bakfiets. However it’s just called “moving” and not a “carfree bike move”.

Moving by bike in Amsterdam:

A “Car Free Bike Move” in Portland:

The difference in the examples above is that riding bicycles is being enjoyed but not celebrated; it’s just the means to another end.

I saw this nearly perfect kroket on three wheels a couple years ago while visiting an art exhibition at Museum de Paviloens in Almere with Kyoko. I didn’t realize then it was actually a fully functional croquette (“kroket” in Dutch) frying and vending vehicle. I just figured it was just a humorous art piece. I suppose that’s also the case judging from some of Tilmann’s other projects which include a fake Segway tour of a mental institution, a mall kiosk that made and sold concrete clogs, and a one man university. But we talked with Tilmann at another exhibition last week and he filled me in on the whole scoop. He’s German though and explains it all with a straight face so I’m still not 100% sure about the humor part. I might just be inadvertently insulting an artist here, something I’ve already demonstrated an aptitude for amongst righteous cyclists.

The project’s called “Buurtkroket” (means neighborhood croquette”) and to paraphrase Tilmann’s explanation…
The city council of Almere engages artists to improve the social cohesion in certain town districts. To this end Meyer-Faje developed a snack bar bike for the Stedenwijk Noord neighborhood which has no shops or restaurants. It’s a “bedroom community” which is fairly unusual in the Netherlands. The concept was to introduce mixed development to this monofunctional, planned neighborhood.

From his special bakfiets Tilmann deep-fried and served croquettes made from recipes of the local residents. Croquets are currently regarded as cheap fast food but originally they were “grandmas homemade pride” of the traditional Dutch kitchen. Every oma has (or had) her special kroket recipe.

Here’s an overview of Buurtkroket. And here’s the buurtkroket site where you can find croquette recipes, links, discussion etc.

The kroketbakfiets has spiritual roots in the street vendors’ bakfietsen of the olden days. Until about the 1960′s all kinds of goods were commonly transported and sold from special bakfietsen on the streets of Dutch cities. The milkman had a bakfiets outfitted to carry several steel milk jugs. The bread baker rode an enclosed bakfiets with various drawers and compartments while the cake and pastry baker had a fancier box with glass display windows. The fishmonger had his trike equipped with bins and a work surface for cleaning and cutting the fish. Many of these were standard models that could simply be purchased from various firms such as Huisman, Lely and Maxwell. Even the major bike manufacturers offered bakfietsen though they were sometimes built by other firms such as the Gazelles which were (at least in the 1960′s-70′s) apparently built by Apollo in Aalten. Only one classic bakfiets is still in production… the Huisman that WorkCycles sells. It’s been built continuously since the 1930′s.

The herring man with his bakfiets

Have some ideas for the future of the krokettenbakfiets? Tilmann hinted that it might be for sale, at least for the right buyer and price. You can contact him via his sites above.

A year or so ago Oscar Mulder of My Dutch Bike in San Francisco commented that he’d periodically heard from his family that his great grandfather had a bicycle shop in Amsterdam and was the “inventor of the bakfiets”. Perhaps this was never a particularly notable factoid until Oscar and his wife Soraya began a shop dedicated to supplying bakfietsen and other Dutch bikes last year.

Needless to say I’m always skeptical about anybody who’s supposedly the inventor of anything as straightforward as a bicycle with a box. But also being fascinated by the history of such things, and bikes in particular, I was also very curious to learn more. Was he known for developing a particular style of transport bike, or a special bakfiets for a particular purpose much as Maarten van Andel is much more recently the “spiritual godfather” of the 2-wheeled family bakfiets? Such stories often get twisted, misunderstood and mistranslated as they get passed through generations and languages so such an explanation seemed fairly plausible.

I forgot about the incident until Oscar sent me a note with a number of scans of photos he’d received from his mother (who still lives in Holland). None of the photos are dated but a little archive research as well as some technical features of the bikes seems to puts most of them in the 1910-1915 range. Making the task a little easier is the fact that the shop was in the Jordaan district just a few blocks from both my home and WorkCycles Lijnbaansgracht location where my office is. Much of the Jordaan looks much like it did 100 or actually even 250 years ago… aside from the cars (yes, even here there are some, though mostly just parked), some rather tasteless new buildings from the 1960′s and 70′s, and a few of the bigger canals that were filled in.

Concerning the photos and archive info we first see that great grandpa did indeed have a bike shop at Rozengracht 49 (and maybe also 40 though that’s disputable). It was called “Bergreijer” which is a play on words. Bergmeijer was the family name but “rij” is the first person form of “ride” or “drive” and “berg” also happens to mean “mountain” so in a punny sort of way it means “mountain rider”. The Dutch, incidentally, have a thing for funny names. Even when other countries were busy with dead-serious names and advertising the Dutch were naming companies with puns and other humorous approaches. It’s a history that goes back at least to when Napoleon became ruler of the region in 1810 and forced everybody to take on a family name which wasn’t at all universal at that time. Either out of spite for their ruler or figuring the names would disappear along with the ruler many people cose silly names. I actually know people who’s names directly translate to “Fountain pen”, “Short knees” and “Born naked”… seven generations later. Napoleon’s bones must be laughing in his grave.

This week Herbert Kuner of the excellent rijwiel.net website sent a couple emails to Oscar chock full of additional information. Kuner found a Bergreijer advertisement in a 1919 trade magazine listing also a separate factory at Laurierstraat 134-142. This is around the corner from the Rozengracht 49 and presumably the factory location was just for production since I don’t think the Laurierstraat was ever a street for retail shops. There are still a number of light industrial outfits there, for example our offset printing firm a few doors down from where Bergreijer stood. This location is also not listed in the 1915 phone book, which inexplicably we both found digitized on the Internet.

Another picture, though shows yet another bike shop called J. Cruiming right next to Bergreijer in the Rozengracht. Cruiming apparently also called themselves a bicycle factory and in fact a sign notes that their shop was not open to the public. This combination of retailer and fabricator is not so strange; many bike shops in this period made their own frames and other parts. I was able to find the same buildings in Google Street View. The two buildings in the right of the photo are essentially unchanged but the facades of numbers 49 (Bergreijer) and 51 (Cruimer) have unfortunately been changed.

The photos include a number of bikes, most of them fairly standard models for this period. Inside the shop are two rows of bikes, many of them with rod-operated rim brakes and none with lights fitted. A carbide lamp fitted to the bracket at the top of the headset was the standard nighttime solution then though none are visible here. Barely visible in the lower right corner seems to be a child sized bike.

There’s a gentleman in uniform, I’m guessing police though I suppose it could also be military or some other official function in which case he was very happy that the Netherlands remained neutral in WWI. His bike has a front fender that ends behind the fork crown as was the practice then. It’s a fixed gear since I see no sign of either hand brakes or even a reaction arm for a coaster brake. The chainring is a work of art and we can see it since none of the bikes in the photos have any kind of chain covers. Apparently the enclosed chain case became a defining feature of the Dutch bike later on.

Here’s a rather dashing fellow looking ready for the start of the next Portland Tweed Ride or other costume themed bicycle gathering. I’m guessing he’s physically challenged since his stylish tricycle is hand driven through a very simple pair of levers that also serve to steer the machine. It looks like it would ride fine in a fairly straight line but sharp turns could be difficult, especially for somebody who’s partially paralyzed… or maybe that’s not really the purpose of this trike. There aren’t many streets this wide bordering large rivers in Amsterdam so I’ll venture a guess that this photo was taken on the west side of the Amstel river.

***Correction: A sharp-eyed, bike loving friend of Herb Kuner in Amsterdam points out that the above and below pictures look like they were taken along the Nassaukade. Silly me! That’s right around the corner from my home and I didn’t recognize it. Of course it is about 100 years later, but still… This morning I looked more carefully while riding Pascal to his daycare center and sure enough I found a spot where the trees (aside from being much thicker) and buildings match the above photo.

This is our first bakfiets of the bunch, and it’s a remarkably ornate one. Check out that laquered box, the beautiful ironwork that seems to support both the loooong leaf springs and the handlebar, and the carbide lamps missing from the bikes in the shop above. The bike almost looks like more of a showpiece than a utility vehicle but who knows what its function was: selling cakes or household goods perhaps? Whatever it carried wasn’t heavy given the light-duty leaf springs. Though this is a very old bakfiets I’ve seen many pictures of similarly old bakfietsen from England and the Netherlands. Nope, this is not the bakfiets Mr. Bergmeijer invented.

Now, THESE last two are the bikes in question. They’re vaguely “Long John” type bikes from at least 20 years before anybody called them “Long John”. Actually they differ from Long Johns and all of the more modern variations in that the frame also runs above the load carrier along with the steering mechanism. On Long Johns, van Andel’s Bakfiets.nl Cargobike and the legions of bicycles these two have inspired the front wheel is steered via a rod linkage below the load carrier. The two photos show two different versions o the Bergreijer transportfiets. The photo with the delivery boy is probably an earlier model or prototype with no steering linkage; the handlebar has simply been extended back to reach the rider. The other bike with “G. Goes, Hemonystraat 18″ (an address in Amsterdam) has a longer box and is steered via a rather complex system of bevel gears on a shaft. They seem to have gone from the simplest system possible to the most complicated… or maybe the other way around. The bike is clearly marked “Bergreijer” and “Model D” along the top tube.

I have seen a few other bikes that looked like these. One of them I almost purchased a few years ago but the owner decided not to sell it after all. This bike with its much more robust construction and dynamo lighting is much more recent, possibly from the 1930′s. The owner told me it was a Maxwell, a very well regarded Amsterdam builder of transport bikes, quite a few of whose big trikes still can still be on the streets. Another very similar (but still different) bike is displayed at a bike repair shop near Amsterdam Central Station.

Looking more recent than the Bergreijer bikes but older than these two are these slick-looking Veeno’s shown on rijwiel.net. It is worth noting that ALL of the bikes described here are older than the 1938 I’ve seen proposed as the beginning of the Danish Long Johns, though I imagine somebody, somewhere in Denmark was also experimenting with long wheelbase transport bikes before then. This repeating of history and reinventing of wheels I discussed earlier in “What’s really new in the bicycle world?”.

So did the Bergmeijer brothers invent this type of bike? It’s possible and their “Long Johns” are the oldest I’ve seen yet. However I’m only a dabbler in antique bikes and this was a time of incredible innovation and experimentation with bicycles (and cars, motorcycles and trucks too). There were several thousand little bike companies throughout the country so quite likely somebody else was also working on such bikes as well. Some day somebody else’s grandmother might pull a few worn photos of even older examples from a shoe box. For now though, I think it’s safe to say we’re at least approaching the beginnings of the Long John type bike.

Does anybody have any more good clues to help fill in the puzzle?

I have to admit that I have a lot of bicycles, and I’m referring to bikes that are really just mine and not somehow part of the WorkCycles fleet or inventory. I periodically cull the flock but some have too much sentimental value to sell, even if I almost never ride them. There’s the Daedalus mountain bike from 1990, designed by me and built by Kent Ericksen of Moots in Steamboat Springs, Colorado. There were six made of which I still know the whereabouts of four. I don’t think I could ever see my lovely De Rosa go. I bought it a year or two old from a friend in about 1982 and raced and trained on it for years until breaking one of the silly diamond shaped chainstays. My friend Brian Spitz (who built some of the world’s cleanest race frames for a while) repaired it but then I hung it up and forgot about it for 15 years. A couple years ago I decided I wanted to get back on a racing bike, found it still wrapped in paper and built it up again. Now it gets ridden regularly, much closer to it’s birthplace in Italy. There are many others, in order of how long I’ve owned them:

Those are all complete, rideable bikes. I also have a number of bikes in various states of incompleteness and a rather absurdly large collection of (mostly old enough to have no monetary value) parts. The semi-complete bikes include:

At least all of the old transport and city bikes are destined for the WorkCycles museum and a few are already on display. A few bikes including the city bike, Brompton, papa bike and racing bike are ridden regularly. Some of the others will return to service when the time is right. Amsterdam has, for example, a fantastic indoor velodrome and I’ve been itching to get back on the track, though that might have to wait until Pascal is old enough to ride too.

Anyhow this is a long intro to noting that I got another bike. This one is a transportfiets (Dutch delivery bike) from the firm “Yankee” in Hoogeveen (where Azor is now and Union once was). I’d never heard of Yankee but that doesn’t mean much; until the 1960′s there were hundreds of small firms building bikes in the Netherlands. Lugs, tubing and components were bought in from various suppliers and the bikes were built from scratch. The quality was typically excellent but the designs were very conservative. Only experts can tell many of the bikes apart and little changed from the 1920′s through the 1960′s or even 1970′s in some cases. A few of the manufacturers were known for particularly high quality (Empo, Fongers, Gazelle, Simplex) and/or unique design (Fongers, Locomotief, Maxwell, Simplex). Yankee though has somehow disappeared into the gorges of history.

Despite it’s near anonymity my Yankee is a beautiful bike, even after at least 50 years and perhaps even a decade or two more. I purchased it from a neighbor. When he brought it in it wasn’t pretty but it was clearly solid, complete and quite original. He’d originally bought the bike some 15-20 years ago for his catering business but no longer needed it. Since then we’ve mostly stripped it down, thoroughly cleaned and polished everything, straightened the front carrier and handlebars, replaced the tires (with better old ones) and assorted other improvements. Only the pedals, which weren’t original anyway, are “incorrect”.

You might not be familiar with the old Dutch transportfietsen and aside from the lovely brass head badge this one’s as typical as they get. Here’s a rundown of some of it’s features:

Perhaps the most obvious feature of a classic transportfiets is the front carrier, always fixed to the wide, 1″ diameter handlebar, very heavy fork crown and front axle. Thus this giant carrier swings with the wheel making it a handful to ride when loaded. Typically a huge basket or wooden crate was mounted on the carrier to carry bread, meat, milk or whatever else the tradesman (or his son) delivered. The load capacity was huge, both in volume and weight. This carrier was made by the firm “Roelewiel” who made the carriers for many brands of bikes.

The reason these bikes still exist despite their hard lives is the extraordinarily robust construction. This bike weighs almost 40kg. There’s not a single dent in the fenders or frame tubes and the frame was still perfectly straight. The drive chain, chainring and cog are 1/2″ x 3/16″, like on mopeds and small motorcycles. The crank bearings are larger diameter and wider. The cranks are massive chunks of steel.

Bonus for the hardcore nerds who spotted that the left crank is mounted backwards: Yes, I’m aware of it. It’s that way because the crank was apparently bent in an accident and after straightening it still has a little “S” bend so it now fits better backwards.

Before WWII all Dutch transportfietsen had 28″ wheels, generally 28 x 1.75″ like this bike. For those keeping up with current fads and trends that’s the same size known now as a “29′er”. After WWII they were built with either the 28″ wheels or fatter 26″ wheels (for even heavier duty applications). My Yankee has the classic Vredestein “Transport Extra Zwaar” tires. This translates to “transport extra heavy” and they weren’t kidding; these tires weigh some 1500g each and they’re supported by special steel rims that weigh a couple kilos each.

The early transportfietsen were mostly or all fixed gears, meaning they had no means of freewheeling nor did they have brakes. The rider slowed the bike by means of resisting the rotation of the pedals. This was no mean feat on a heavy and heavier loaded bike with the further momentum of such heavy wheels. Of course these bikes were only ridden by professionals, though even they indulged in competitions. During WWII the occupying Nazis banned fixed gear bicycles (really, I’m not making this up) perhaps for a couple reasons:

The Yankee has a coaster brake hub I’ve never seen though. It’s a Bendix like the American hubs I grew up with, except that this one is different. Inside and out it looks much like the German Torpedo but still different, most notably that it has a helical actuator instead of the roller clutch used in the Torpedo. In any case it’s definitely a special, heavy duty model with a 3/16″ cog threaded in place with a locknut.

Am I going to ride it? Nah, probably not for a while. I’m just going to hang it up in our Lijnbaansgracht shop as one more constant reminder of what “quality” means.

A while back I wrote about how some goon stole the rear wheel of Doede’s antique bakfiets. After some measurements we determined that this bike was quite strange in that the rear hub axle and crank axle were narrower than usual. Consequently the chain line is much closer to the center of the bike meaning that even if we widened the frame (40mm!) to fit one of our wheels the rear cog wouldn’t line up with the chainring in front anyway. It was decided to bring the bakfiets to the WorkCycles shop for further investigation and repair.

So how does one transport a non-functional bakfiets? On another bakfiets of course! Here Mette van der Linden (brother of web genius and maker of these photos Doede) rides the bakfiets ambulance across Amsterdam. Mind you, an old bakfiets is not exactly something you can just toss in your car, even if you happen to have one; This particular example is over 300cm long, 130cm wide and weighs probably 130kg… OK somewhat less since it’s missing it’s almost 10kg rear wheel thanks to some knuckle-dragging cretin.

The first bike that caught my eye though was this 1890 “lamplighter’s bike” from New York City. You see a 250cm bike was the perfect way to reach a flame into hundreds of streetlamps each evening. Just ride along and dab the burning stick into each oil lamp as it comes along.

But wait a minute, you object, isn’t this just a “tall bike” like those weird anarchist dudes do their jousting on? Yes, exactly… except that they just reinvented it, uglier and worse, 100 years later. And this is exactly my point: Most of the real “invention” and “development” of the bicycle occurred more than 100 years ago, back when the bicycle was one of the pinnacles of technology, and certainly the highest tech thing an ordinary person could get their hands on. As I recall some of the things that were developed for bicycles: steel tubing, ball bearings, pneumatic tires, the tensioned spoke wheel, the roller chain drive and the list goes on. People often poo-poo of the achievements of the Wright Brothers because they were bike makers by trade, but this completely misses the point that the bicycle techies of that day were amongst the best suited to be experimenting with aerodynamics (which nobody understood yet) and lightweight, efficient structures.

In 1896 Archibald Sharp wrote what is probably still the most comprehensive book on bicycle technology “Bicycles and Tricycles, An Elementary Treatise on Their Design and Construction”. It’s 400 pages of detailed analysis of bicycle design. From the MIT Press site (they reprinted it in 1979 and my copy is one of these):

It begins with a general exposition of mechanical principles: dynamic, static, and straining forces. It then covers successive experiments at bicycle and tricycle design, including several “mechanical monstrosities.”

With the aid of elegant, sometimes humorous drawings, the book examines various designs for their relative stability, steering advantages, gearing and resistance properties. The final selection discusses the design of individual components in detail, including the frame (from the point of view of stress analysis); wheels; bearings; chains and chain gearing; toothed-wheel gearing; the lever-and-crank gear; tires; pedals, cranks and bottom brackets; springs and saddles; and brakes.

Even if you couldn’t read English or simply can’t be bothered to follow the scientific explanations the illustrations would be worth looking at. There are images and often scorching analysis of all sorts of bike and component designs that have been unwittingly (or knowingly?) reinvented in the intervening 120 years: disk wheels, belt drives, suspension frames and forks, shaft drive, two-speed epicyclic cranks and many more examples.

“Bicycles and Tricycles” is again out of print but it should be possible to find a second-hand copy. ISBN-10: 0-262-69066-7, ISBN-13: 978-0-262-69066-9

My point isn’t that the bicycle hasn’t evolved in over 100 years; It certainly has but largely in details. The basics elements have long been well understood, and unfortunately seem to get forgotten regularly. Thus simultaneous with the evolution of brakes, gearing and other details is constant de-evolution and re-invention of the basic design. A few examples of how current bikes are often actually worse than their predecessors:

Here is thus where we focus our efforts at WorkCycles; not attempting to reinvent the wheel, but merely refine it. This can require searching back a few steps to see where things went wrong (city bike ergonomics) or developing our own knowledge where there doesn’t seem to be any useful history to rely on (steering geometry for very heavily loaded bikes). All the while the designs remain timeless, but not for the sake of “retro style”. We’re either maintaining highly developed designs that are still fundamentally sound or creating new ones with the recognition that the products of evolution rarely fall far from the apple tree.

Our web developer Doede sent me a despairing note the other day telling me that the rear wheel of his new, old bakfiets got ripped off. The poor beast looks so sad, like a horse with a broken leg.

In case you’re confused thinking that a bakfiets is a modern, two-wheeler that mom carries her kids in, you’re half correct. That’s a Bakfiets Cargobike, with Bakfiets being the very generic trade name for Maarten van Andel’s brilliant bike. But to Dutch folks “bakfiets” still generally means a giant, heavy duty three-wheeler with a wooden box on the front, a brake lever between your legs and a fixed gear to keep those legs busy. Just to be sure: “bakfiets” is singular and “bakfietsen” is plural. Please remember that as it’s quite painful to read “bakfiet”. Check here for a more detailed description of the etymology of bakfietsen, bakkersfietsen, bakkers, bakken, gebak…

Anyhow the theft raised the question of who would bother stealing an old bakfiets wheel. They’re nearly impossible to find but then again such a wheel has no significant market value. Thus Doede’s wheel was probably stolen by another bakfiets owner whose hub, drum brake or rim finally died after 40 or 50 years of faithful service. And who rides old bakfietsen like these? Well, Doede reasoned, not the sorts of people you’d expect to be stealing their fellow bakfiets riders wheels: hippies, squatters, socialists and others well to the “left” of the socio-political spectrum. Just goes to show you that you can’t judge a book by its cover… or that such demographic stereotypes don’t actually work for crap.

[UPDATE 26-08-09: On Sunday while cycling out of the city with Kyoko and Pascal for a day trip we came across a scene I'd never witnessed before: A building getting broken into and squatted. A raucous mob of perhaps 50 men and women with creative hair and almost entirely black clothing was smashing their way through the door of a pretty, 17th century building in the Weteringschans. Upon breaking the door open the crowd cheered and stormed inside with the contents of a delivery van and no less than two big, old bakfietsen. I also recognized a couple of Amsterdam bakfiets/transportfiets "colleagues" of the old skool variety. Just goes to show you that some stereotypes have a basis in reality.

I pulled my camera out to get a couple pics of the bakfietsen playing a key role in the squatter's life, but I was immediately apprehended by somebody apparently appointed the "no fucking pictures" man of the event.]

In case you’re wondering what sort of rear wheel would be supporting the rear frame of that bakfiets had some scumbag not stolen it, here’s a quick description:

It would look like this one on a brand new WorkCycles Bakfiets, meaning thus that such wheels are actually still available… just not at a price many old-fashioned bakfiets riders are prepared to pay for:

And here’s a picture of a whole, brand-new classic bakfiets, just because I’m so thrilled that such gorgeous, durable, early 20th century vehicles can still be in production. In the background is the Nijland factory where these bikes are made for WorkCycles:

Yep, I love old bikes, especially really nice old bikes. I would have taken more photos of this old Fongers opafiets if he hadn’t been sandwiched between a half dozen other bikes… Amsterdam style. So I had to be content with a close-up of the giant, bullet-shaped Philips headlamp. If you look carefully you can see the reserve bulb above the normal bulb. Also note the soft luster of the nickel-plated finish on the headlamp, handlebar and brake rods.

Though I’m no Fongers expert I do know that they’re widely regarded as the best of the old Dutch bikes, which would make them the best of the best old bikes. Fongers, based in bicycle capital of the world Groningen, made both standard production bikes like this one and also very, very special bespoke bikes with unusual features such as locking headsets, sophisticated rim brakes and eccentric chain adjustment. These special Fongers models were extraordinarily expensive… and still are if you can find one.

To the best of my (admittedly limited) knowledge only the older (prewar perhaps?) Forgers are of interest to the serious Fongers fanatics. In the 1950′s Fongers fused with a couple other northern bike makers and then in 1970 it was taken over by Batavus. Bikes have been periodically produced since then under the Fongers name but nothing to get your panties in a bunch about.

Andre Koopmans’ photostream in Flickr has quite a few great pictures of old Fongers bikes (including some made from hundred year old glass negatives), along with some truly arcane discussion about the various esoteric Fongers special bikes from the beginning of the last century. An example below: