Recently I have found myself in the grip of a relentless
obsession. To many, this obsession may border on lunacy and I must admit, I can
offer only a feeble retort to assuage my critics differently. This fool-hearty venture I am
involved in is eccentric in the extreme,
seemingly without an obvious purpose. Yet I persist at it, a slave to the allure
of achieving something that is both elegant and primitive but gradually coming to recognizing that the core objective may be slipping away from me. I fear that I have created something that is more
primitive than elegant. At this point I find myself somewhere between raising
the white flag of surrender and abandoning the project all together or, stubbornly
proceeding with what has surely become more of a comical curiosity than a
masterpiece of amateurish ingenuity.
I’ll chronicle this venture for you in the hope that
someone will take pity on the musings of a retired
man with quite probably, an excess of time on his hands. I'll begin with the title. You will notice that word Friday is deliberately placed in
quotation marks. I wanted to point out that Friday is used differently than the day that marks the end of a typical work-week. Rather, Friday is in reference to Robinson Crusoe’s companion Friday in Defoe’s famous sixteenth
century novel. As the story goes, Crusoe was astonished to discover a singular footprint
on the beach of the deserted island where he had found himself stranded. Although
the Crusoe tale was largely allegorical, I don’t think Defoe intended much
symbolism from Friday’s footprint. It was more of an event than a symbol. However, the footprint
image has become exceedingly popular as
a modern metaphor in contemporary parlance. Architects often discuss
the size of a proposed building’s footprint. Ecologists refer to the carbon
footprint created subsequent to a
manufacturing process with the connotation that a smaller carbon footprint is
better than a larger one. So it is in this sense that I link Defoe’s character Friday to the metaphor of footprint and the modest pursuit of making one’s large footprint smaller and hopefully, somewhat
more delible. A noble undertaking, yes? Read on.
Back
to my obsession. The seed of this compulsion was sewn about a year ago when my
cousin and her husband shared their curious new folding bicycles with me. These
bicycles were manufactured by the Bike Friday Company out of Oregon. Now you
see where the Friday comes in, right? I didn’t make the Crusoe connection at
first. I just thought it was an odd name for a bike but eventually, as I came
to know this category of bicycle better, the association to Friday’s footprint became more obvious to me. Folding bikes make small footprints and that is a good thing. Far better than a large footprint wouldn't you agree. I had never encountered folding bikes
before. This one even came in a suitcase! A quick demonstration of the origami-like folding characteristics, spawned much intrigue in me. I am not sure if it was the novelty of the
bike’s design or the ‘nano-thing’ -- making something larger much smaller without
altering its functionality -- that took root but regardless, I was hooked.
I
won’t go into detail about how I eventually ended up with my folding bike
because it would reveal too much of my obsessive/compulsive personality. Let’s just say that by the time I went to the
bike shop to make my eventual purchase, I knew more about the bike than they
did and leave it at that. It was the easiest sale the guy ever made. This six-month
web-browsing journey acquainted me with
virtually every conceivable design for the folding bike category. And there are
quite literally hundreds of them. Some were exotic like the Birdy, folding in mere seconds. Others
were legendary like the UK-made Brompton.
Some were cheap like the Citizen ($169)
and some were very expensive like the Dahon
Mu 30th Anniversary limited edition ($5000). That’s right. Four
zeros. Count them. All however, were dedicated to the goal of maintaining the
characteristics of what makes a bicycle a bicycle while at the same time,
allowing it to fold into the smallest and lightest package possible so that it
can be carried and stored easily. You might say, creating a smaller footprint.
Purchasing
my bike (a
Dahon Mu P8 by the way) is
not the end of my story but rather much
closer to the beginning of it. After my purchase instead of shrinking, my obsession began to grow
other branches. I became transfixed on the utilitarian advantage one gains from
transforming larger things into smaller things, without compromising their
intended purpose. The marriage of biking, canoeing and fishing into one
seamless activity seemed a natural to me since I enjoy all three and I live relatively close to water. So I took to
the task of designing a folding canoe caddy that could carry my canoe and some gear as well as be trailed safely and
efficiently behind my folding bike. Also, since I was going to need to stow
both my bike and the caddy in my smallish solo canoe, I also needed to have some
added stability woven into the concept lest I find myself swimming along side
the scattered bits of my creation, strewn about in thrift-sale fashion for the singular amusement of the various ducks and geese that inhabit the river. My canoe
needed more stuff. You guessed it! A folding outrigger. With the help of the internet, I came up with a suitable design. I might add that pleased to find that I was not the only nut out there. In fact, I may be one of the saner ones. None of this tinkering was easy
of course. There was lots of
going-back-to-the-drawing-board
. What seemed enticingly simple at first became, at least for me,
extraordinarily complex. I’m not going to lie. There were failures which led to mission-fatigue and commitment-wavering. Suffering
the indignity encountered because of a
structural snaffoo in the middle of a busy street while trailing
the whole shebang behind me was more than just disappointing. It was down right
embarrassing. I mean I was kind of
out
there, my eccentricity fully exposed for all to see, giving those who would mock me, ample fodder to fuel
their snickering. On those occasions, I was mildly inclined
to leave the pile on the road like some child’s half-finished
Lincoln Log project and limp away with my tail between my legs. Defeated but not yet beaten, I was able to make the changes that seemed called for and eventually I
got everything to work the way it was supposed to. Well ... more-or-less. You see the
solution to each problem seem to create an aesthetic compromise, another
barnacle if you will, detracting from its …well…elegance. Elegance had to go. It
its place was function. If it worked, it was good enough. The result is here
before you. You be the judge.
The picture to the left shows the canoe on the caddy while
attached to the bike using a self-designed travois made from pcv pipe. The
travois is very important as it allows some flex to the apparatus. Since there
is no shock absorption on the caddy, it was important to have some sponginess
while attached to the bike. I won’t go into detail about the “design features”
of the apparatus but I did want to display the finished product so readers
could get the general idea. The picture also shows a large duffel-bag. This bag
contains the stabilizing equipment, foldable seat, life jacket, small anchor
and some ropes.
The next set of pictures show
the canoe as it will look when floating. You can see the
stabilizing ‘out rigger’ attachment lashed to the gunwales, the folding seat and
the collapsible canoe caddy in the bow. The other picture shows the bike folded
and lashed into position in the stern of the canoe, just behind the seat.
You may have noticed that none of these pictures
show me actually in the canoe, on the water, fishing pole in hand, with all the
paraphernalia secured neatly to the gunwales. That’s because
I haven’t actually tried it. At this stage I am what you might call, small-c confident. I feel I may have over-capacitated the
boat, and it might not handle well enough to manage the river that it is intended
for. That is important because, in addition to floating in this rig, I also want
to go ten miles downstream to where the bike path intersects with the river. At
this time of year the river moves slow enough but there are many twists and
turns that create eddies and back currents that might challenge the equipment
beyond its capabilities. If all goes well, I will reassemble the canoe caddy,
unfold the bike and hook it all up for the ride back home. Cool eh? Well maybe not. I told you it was fool-hearty. Part two of this account will follow. Whether the project succeeds or fails, will make for good writing. Keeping checking in for updates.
