Still active today, Bob Jackson Cycles are a British builder of classic steel bicycles that is well known around the world. Less commonly known is the name JRJ Cycles that preceded it. Bob (John Robert) Jackson began building bicycle frames in Leeds, England, in 1935, offering track and road racing (time trial) models. Part of Chris Sharp's collection, this particular bike is a 1950s grass track racer that once belonged to Leslie White of the Maryland Wheelers near Belfast. The owner raced it into the late 1960s, achieving numerous victories in Northern Ireland. He then hung it up, and the bike remained untouched for over 4 decades. Today it is preserved in as-raced condition.
The JRJ name, headbadge and transfers were used exclusively until the 1960s, and still appeared into the 1980s after the switch to "Bob Jackson."
The transfers included renderings of olympic rings, the full name on the downtube reading "JRJ Olympic Cycles." As with other English "lightweight" manufacturers of that time, there was a strong emphasis on performance and competition, which explains the olympic imagery. "Always first at the finish!" was the JRJ Cycles' slogan on advertisements from the 1950s.
Traditionally, English racing frames from this era tended to be painted in saturated, jewel-like tones, known as a "flamboyant" finish. Not quite the same as pearlescent paint, the flamboyant colours are foil-like, resembling the look of candy wrappers. Bob Jackson had his favourite signature shades, including the red and blue on this bike. The blue leans toward seafoam, and the red is a raspberry-like crimson.
White lining around the lugs and fork crown highlights the elaborate shorelines.
The bottom bracket lugs are especially interesting - there appears to be a reinforced lug of sorts connecting the chainstays to the bottom bracket.
The frame is Reynolds 531 tubing.
Though it has not been ridden in decades, the large shimmery machine is so marked by care and wear, that it feels alive with the owner's presence and energy. Seeing it leaned against the hedge on a rainy morning, I can't help but imagine the tall, powerful youth Leslie White must have been - his back stretched flat across the 58cm frame, his hands gripping the deep track drops, his legs pushing the monstrous gear in an all-out effort around a grass track.
Grass track racing is an interesting tradition in the British Isles. In an earlier post, I mentioned how a ban on road racing from the 1890s through the 1950s led to the invention of time trials. The ban also explains the emphasis on track cycling in the UK and Ireland: Races on enclosed courses were the only kind officially permitted during this time. The grass tracks were similar to velodromes in that they were oval. However, the surface was not banked. Often the track was a multi-use field, temporarily set up for the race.Grass track racing is still done in the UK today, its popularity revived in recent years. At a grass-roots/ community level, a race like this can be organised fairly easily, wherever a flat playing field is available.
The style of races held was similar to those on the velodrome, and the bikes were fixed gear machines with track style fork-ends.
Typically the fork crown was drilled for a front brake: The rider would remove it upon arrival to the race. The tires were of course tubulars - "sew ups." Too deteriorated to hold air, the ones on this bike are original.
Also original are all the other components. Most notable among these are the English-made Chater Lea crankset and hubs, quite rare now.
The Chater Lea pedals are fitted with Brooks toe clips and leather straps.
I can make out a faint Brooks stamp on the side of the saddle, but not which model it is. The saddle is long and very narrow - measuring just over 120mm across at the widest part.
The stem and handlebars are stamped with what looks like Cinelli; I did not want to disturb the patina by cleaning up the inscription.
When talking to Chris Sharp about the JRJ, I asked whether he plans to make it ridable. He has many vintage bikes, some of them quite old and storied, and he does not shy away from using them. But Leslie White's grass racer, he wants to preserve the way it is. Having met the bike's original owner, part of it is wanting to honor him. But part of it also is the history. In person, standing near this bike and touching it... There is just something so incredibly alive and exciting about how freshly used everything looks.I can readily imagine it all: a grassy field, a gray sky, a crowd of locals gathered to watch, and the riders - a blur of jewel tones against the overcast country landscape.
Though I have derived many benefits from cycling, the one drawback I am still struggling with is sun damage. During my first year on the bike as an adult, I thought that I was being pretty good about using sun protection, but noticed visible damage to my skin that seemed to be a direct result of cycling over the summer months. Darkened patches and wrinkles appeared in areas of my face and body that had been most exposed to the sun while cycling. And this was despite using high SPF sunblock and staying off the road during the hottest times of the day.
When people learn of my travels to Vienna, they typically want to hear about all the things they associate it with: the gilded neoclassical buildings, the opera, the horsedrawn carriages, Wienershnitzel, Sachertorte, and Mozart. But while all of that is indeed here, it is very marginal to my experience of the place. The centralmost 1st district - with its maze of white stone, processions of tourists, ticket peddlers dressed as historical figures, and endless shops selling fur coats and stockings to overcoiffed ladies - is a place I keep away from inasmuch as possible. The absurdly grandiose architecture of the famous Ringstrasse is something I look upon with fond irony, but it does not define the city for me. My experience here has always been that of an on-and-off resident, rather than that of a tourist, and "my" Vienna consists of real neighbourhoods, out of the way cafes, small parks frequented by locals, and other places you are unlikely to find in tourist guides. For me, these places are what makes Vienna special, what creates the captivating atmosphere that so draws me here. And yesterday I spent the day wandering through one of them, on my bike. 
While many are no doubt familiar with the Prater - a large park that runs through the Southern part of Vienna and includes an amusement park, a stadium, various athletic facilities and horse trails running through wooded alleys - few venture beyond it into the tiny neighbourhood of Freudenau on the outskirts of town. On the map it does not look like much, and descriptions of it are not particularly inspiring: there is a golf course and a horseracing track, but otherwise it seems unremarkable. But the maps and guidebooks say nothing of the gravel trail that will take you through what can only be described as an enchanted forest, past a cluster of mysteriously abandoned mansions, ancient stables and ethereal-looking horses.
The horses are unexpected, because they really are in the middle of the woods, and not always contained within enclosures. They can be found wandering around untethered between the moss and ivy-covered tress, grazing serenely. I suppose so few people happen through this area, that no one bothers them. 
The horses are not only beautiful, but tame and very sociable. You can pet them and feed carrots to them, which I sometimes find lying around. 
I've been trying to understand what the horses are doing there and who they belong to, but there is never any human around to ask. I could be wrong, but I do not think that these particular animals are racehorses; the racehorses I've seen are not kept like this and don't behave like this either. A friend suggested that these are therapy horses for handicapped and emotionally disturbed children. Apparently Vienna has an equestrian therapy program, and this could be where the service animals are kept.
Riding on the gravel trail through Freudenau is a soothingly surreal experience. There is such a haunting sense of history, and I am nearly always the only person there. I can hear nothing but the sounds of overhanging tree branches creaking, ravens' wings flapping, horses hooves clip-clopping over dried leaves, and my own bicycle tires rolling over gravel. 
Perhaps the uneven gravel, with its occasional ditches and root protrusions, explains why not many feel compelled to venture here. But Jacqueline handles it without a problem. 
On the way back to civilisation, I am delighted to pass one of my favourite signs in Vienna. It's charming, because it suggests that the sign is for the cats themselves, rather than humans. "This way if you're a cat."
Of course it's only a sign for a cat shelter.But Katzenheimhas a more romantic ring to it, and I choose to imagine it as a genteel home for wayward felines - no doubt with miniature Jugendstil furniture and catfood served in little crystal dishes.
Right before Freudenau connects back to the Prater, there is a small cafe where I like to go. With traditional outdoor cafes like these in Vienna you never know what to expect. Some will serve awful microwaved food and packaged supermarket sweets that they simply open and dump onto a plate. Others will serve homemade dishes prepared with local ingredients that are as delicious as anything you could order in the best Viennese restaurants. This one leans toward the latter and I am never disappointed with even the simplest food I order there.
I don't usually feel compelled to photograph food, but readers have been asking about this more than anything else! So here is a ridiculously stereotypical meal, photographed just for you: frankfurters and sturm.
Sturm is a sort of fermented young wine, made from the first grape harvest of the season.It is naturally fizzy and low in alcohol, and tastes somewhat like a grapey version of hard cider. There are loads of vinyards outside of Vienna that compete to make the best Sturm in celebration of Autumn, and it's typical to sample them from as many places as possible this time of the year.
And a Viennese Apfelstrudel: heavy on the apples (local and fresh, not canned or jellied!), tart and not sweet, and very light on the crust - which is thin like filo dough, only soft instead of crunchy. There are also raisins mixed in there with the apples, which I could personally do without - but the rest I love. It's hard to eat Apfelstrudel elsewhere after getting used to the version they make here.
It's difficult to explain my attachment to Vienna without discussing my personal background at length. But I hope these pictures help express what words fail to.
Vienna is a large, sprawling city and some of my favourite places are difficult to access without a bicycle. Cycling is truly the best way to travel off the beaten path and to visit all the places I love - on the road and off.
For a while now, the Co-Habitant has been wanting water bottle cages on his Pashley Roadster. I thought the idea was ridiculous, until I received a few comments from male Pashley owners expressing the same desire. I guess men like bottle cages on their bikes, even on a roadster? Fair enough! For those interested, here is the Co-Habitant's DIY solution:
Yes, you are seeing what you think you are seeing: Not one, but two bottle cages mounted on the inside of the handlebars, with twined, flat-cappedKleen Kanteen bottles inside them. The bottle cages are generic bolt-ons that can be found in many bike shops for around $7 (same bottle cages as here). For the Pashley, the Co-Habitant first took them apart, shortened them so that they would not stick out too far past the handlebars (I believe the drill and superglue were used), and bolted them to the handlebars, with the bottles facing inward. Now he has direct access to water, while remaining upright.
Here is the "cockpit view". And yes, that is a cycling computer you see mounted on the stem, in between the bottle cages. On a Pashley. What can I say, the man has his quirks.
My opinion on this project? I think that if he mounted just one bottle and stopped there, it would have been successful.
With two bottles, I think he went overboard with the eccentricity factor and the bottles look like a pair of missiles. What do you think?
And if you are wondering why he did not just use one of those coffee-cup mounts that are designed for the handlebars, he did not think they were sturdy enough, or accommodating enough of different containers. I agree: These bottle cages are super-stable and the bottles do not budge or vibrate at all inside them. It is a very secure set-up, and the flasks can be filled with coffee as well as water.
While I do not agree with the choice to mount two bottles, I think that otherwise this is an innovative and practical solution. I am now considering installing a similar set-up (with just one bottle though!) on myPashley Princess.