Dave Moulton

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Analyzing Depression

I came across this map of the world which shows, by country, the percentage of population diagnosed with depression.

The most depressed people it appears live in the United States, United Kingdom, Ukraine, and France. The fact that the top three all begin with the letter “U” does not go unnoticed, so it is best to avoid living in countries that begin with “U.”

Three of the top countries (USA, UK, and France.) may be the most depressed in the world, but at least they know where they are. As the depression rate drops, it seems people are less sure where in the world they belong on this map.

People in the Netherlands, for example, think they are in Iceland. Germany thinks it is in Shanghai, while Shanghai appears to be in New Zealand, and Beijing thinks it is in Iraq. People from Shanghai and Beijing are so NOT depressed that they think they are countries, when the last time I checked, they were cities.

Another country with a low depression rate is Italy, which thinks it is on the Pakistan/Afghanistan border. Could it be the people in these less depressed places have a subconscious desire to move to a more depressing place to tone down their feeling of joy. Japan, for example, thinks it is in the Persian Gulf. Maybe their desire is to be nearer the oil.

The least depressed place in the world, according to this map, is Nigeria, who, it appears, knows what continent it is on. However, it thinks it is several thousand miles away on the east coast of Africa. When last I checked it was on the west coast.

Mexico has a depression rate that is exactly half that of the United States, and it thinks it is in Brazil. It also proves my theory that less depressed people have a desire to move to places where they can be more depressed. It doesn’t matter how bad things get in America, we don’t see a mass exodus south from the US into Mexico.

We can learn a lot from maps like this, that psychologists are poor at geography for example. Of course it couldn’t be that America has the highest depression rate in the world because we have more doctors diagnosing people as depressed?

It doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that in the United States we are bombarded nightly with TV ads for anti-depressant medication. The result being that more people trot off to their doctor to sign up for said medication, when according to this map all they need to do is book a flight to Nigeria.

It also doesn’t go unnoticed that you can’t spell “Analyzing” without “Anal,” which may account for the fact that most analysts pull numbers out of their ass. It’s probably where they got their map references too.

I hope after reading this, you are now less depressed


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What if the Automobile had come first?

What if the bicycle had never been invented in the late 1800s, would engineers come up with a similar design today?  Even if they did, I doubt it would be taken seriously as a viable form of personal transport.

The bicycle came into being at a time when the only other form of personal transport was the horse. These animals were not only expensive to buy, they needed feeding and housing. Working class people could not afford horses.

However, once the bicycle had been invented, and a few years later mass production put this new machine within reach of the poorer classes it became a revolutionary form of personal transport. Many forget that the automobile came later and eventually replaced the horse as the wealthy person’s transport of choice.

I often wonder, what if the automobile had come first? The poorer working classes would have continued living in cities where they could get to work either on foot or by rail or other form of public transport.

The bicycle had less of an impact on America’s history, because in the US it was the automobile that became affordable due to mass production, and the luxury of plenty of space led to urban sprawl, and the suburbs.

In the UK and other smaller European countries, it became viable for a working class man to live in a rural area, and cycle 5 to 10 miles to work each day. The humble bike was the working man’s wheels all the way up to the late 1950s, early 1960s. 

Even though commuting to work by bicycle is a hard sell today for the majority, think how much harder it would be if engineers were only just developing the bicycle now. Almost everyone can at least ride a bicycle, and most households have at least one bike in their garage.

Would today’s engineers even think of a two-wheeled vehicle? If there were no bicycles there would be no motorcycles, only four wheel vehicles. There had always been four wheel horse drawn vehicles, so it was inevitable once steam and gasoline engines were invented the automobile would follow. Don’t forget the first autos were called “Horseless Carriages.”

Above: A German Draisine or Laufmaschine, circa 1820. Predecessor of the bicycle.

The bicycle’s predecessor, the Hobby Horse came on the scene in the early 1800s as a rich man’s whimsical plaything, it only needed two wheels because its rider kept his feet on the ground. No doubt it was soon discovered that its rider could lift his feet clear of the ground and remain balanced when coasting downhill. 

What has always amazed me is that it took until towards the end of the 1800s for someone to attach a simple foot crank to the front wheel and it became a bicycle.

I started out by mentioning that before the bicycle the only form of personal transport was the horse. I am sure ever since men rode horses, children pretended to ride horses astride a stick picked up from the ground.

When the wheel was invented, model horses with wheels were made as children’s toys, from this came the adult version in the 1800s. The Hobby Horse was a pretend horse, and from that came the bicycle. The bicycle evolved, rather than it was invented, it was certainly not invented by any one person. 

It is one of the simplest and most efficient machines that humankind has ever made. What I find surprising is that today almost 200 years later, engineers are still asking, “How does its rider balance, and how does it steer?” The bicycle still raises more questions than answers.

I for one doubt very much that today’s engineers, even knowing about gyroscopic precession, caster action and such, would even think of building a two-wheeled vehicle for personal transport. Even if they did, consumer agencies would no doubt deem it too dangerous and take steps to ban its use. I am glad that the bicycle came first and then the automobile, it may not have even happened the other way round.

What do you think? Just a little food for thought for you to munch on.


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How a single ride changed the face of British Time Trialing

In England, in 1953, the top British time trialist was a man named Ken Joy. (Left.)

The previous year he had ridden a 100 miles in 4 hours and 6 minutes, which at that time was phenomenal.

In the early 1950s, British riders racing against the clock invariably rode on a single fixed wheel.

48 x 15, or 48 x 16 (86.4 inch or 81 inch.) would be a typical gear ratio used for 100 miles. Courses would be selected over the flattest possible terrain.

At the end of 1952 Ken Joy turned professional and was sponsored by Hercules, a large manufacturer of roadster bikes, located in Birmingham, England. As British time trialing did not have a professional category, the only thing open for Ken Joy, was to ride solo and attack the many place to place records and distance records under the auspices of the Road Records Association.

So when Ken Joy was invited to ride in the Grand Prix des Nations in 1953 it created tremendous excitement for the average British Club Rider. This famous French event was after all considered to be the unofficial World Time Trial Championship of Professional Cycling.

Britain was somewhat cut off and isolated from the rest of Europe as far as cycling was concerned. We were in our own little world of time trialing, and the time trials held on the continent of Europe were odd distances, and held on courses that were not always flat, so how did you compare.

There was much speculation in the weeks leading up to the event as to how well Ken Joy would do. After all he had to be in with a chance, 100 miles in 4 hours 6 minutes is not exactly hanging around, by any standard.

I was 17 years old at the time and in my second year of racing, mostly time trialing; I was definitely caught up in all the excitement. The Grand Prix des Nations was to be run over a distance of 142 kilometers, which was just over 88 miles, a distance that would suit Joy.

The event was held on a weekend, and a few of the major British newspapers had the results in Monday’s morning edition. However we had to wait until the following Wednesday when the “Cycling” magazine came out to get the full impact of what had transpired.

The event was won by a then unknown 19 year old French rider named Jacques Anquetil. Not only did he beat Ken Joy, he started 16 minutes behind the British rider and caught and passed him. A nineteen year old kid, just two years older than me, had trounced the best that Britain had to offer.

There were two British professional riders in the 1953 event; the other was Bob Maitland whose previous riding was mostly in NCU Mass Start Circuit Races. I seem to remember Maitland finished with a better time than Joy, but both were well down the field. Later in 1955, Bob Maintland did become part of the first British team to ride the Tour de France.

I remember well the above picture of Anquetil, low, aerodynamic, with his hands curled around the slim Mafac brake hoods. His mechanic standing on the running board of the following car with a spare bike on his shoulder. This was a whole different world, a whole different level of bike racing.

This one ride changed the face of British time trialing. Anquetil used a five speed free-wheel, with 14, 15, 16, 17, 18 cogs. With a single 53 tooth chainwheel; it gave him a top gear of 102 inches. This was the highest ratio mechanically possible at that time. Soon after British time trialists would abandon fixed wheel and use five speed straight up 14 to 18, and later 13 to 17 free wheels.

Jacques Anquetil of course went on to become one of the great cyclists of all time. Winning the Grand Prix des Nations 9 times, and going on to become the first man to win the Tour de France five times.

The Grand Prix des Nations which started in 1932, and became one of the professional classics, was held annually until 2005 when it was abandoned after the UCI inaugurated an official World Time Trial Championship.


Footnote: If you haven't already done so, read this 3 part series: The History of British Cycle Racing. It tells of the ban on road racing in Britain that lasted 50 years, and how a handful of cyclists fought to get this ban lifted. Britain's current success in cycling is due in part to those who went before and dragged the sport out of the dark ages

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Searching for the Meaning of Life

I couldn’t sleep the other night, I lay awake in bed,

With thoughts about the meaning of life running through my head.

I went over to the window and looked into the night,

I saw a million twinkling stars, it was an awesome sight.

I got quite excited, and I began to shout,

“What are we all doing here, and what’s it all about.”

A voice came back with the answer, and this is what it said,

“It’s none of your fucking business.” So I got back into bed.

I wrote the above song lyrics some years ago. It sums up my thoughts about the meaning of life. I try not to take life too seriously, or rather try not to take my own life too serious. Why does life have to have a meaning anyway? Is it not more important to live a life that has meaning?”

What is life? Life is anything that dies if you stomp on it. A tiny ant crawling across our kitchen counter has life until we crush it under our thumb. Life is what keeps meat fresh without refrigeration. The moment life leaves any living entity, be it plant or animal, it will start to rot and decay.

One might as well ask, “Where does fire go when it goes out.” A candle will burn until the wick is totally consumed, and the flame will go out. However, if I light another candle from the first candle I have the same flame that in theory could burn indefinitely, as long as someone keeps lighting a new candle from the same flame.

Likewise my mother created me, (With a little help from my dad) a new life from her life. I share DNA from both parents. When their candle burned out the same flame of life continues to burn in me, and will do so long after I’m gone. It will continue through my children, grandchildren, and so on.  

Life is my belief system. I do not need to believe in some Deity or other which may or may not exist, rather I know there is Life, because I have Life, plus I can see it in abundance everywhere.

There’s a small change in perception between Heaven and Hell,

And I’ve found a God that I can trust, the one within myself.

The above are more lyrics. Heaven and Hell are not necessarily where we go when we die, but what we create for ourselves here on Earth. I have met many people over the years whose lives are a “Living Hell.” Created mostly by their own negative thoughts and actions.  Even Shakespeare said, “Nothing is good or bad that thinking makes it so.”

The God within myself is of course “My Life,” as previously explained. Time and time again I have seen a positive thought result in a positive outcome. Bad thoughts will result in a negative outcome too, proving to myself it works either way.  It is not necessary I prove it to others, only to myself.

Another man praying to his God may have the exact same outcome, because what is a prayer but a positive thought? And a positive thought is but an unspoken prayer.

I love to watch nature programs on TV, and in doing so it seems to me that the main purpose in life is to survive and procreate. Thus ensuring that life continues. Humankind however has the brain capacity to go way beyond simply survive and procreate.

It would seem the noble thing to do is to do something that is of benefit to others. However, there are those who went before us who did just that and in doing so created an industrialized world, one from which we can never return.

I sometimes wonder if the honorable thing to do is to simply survive and procreate. Providing of course that person lives a happy existence, and raises children who are themselves happy and stable. And as long as on his journey through life, he harms no one.

The world would be in a better state today if more people had been left to do just, instead of being encouraged to get ahead, make more, and buy more stuff.

But now I am thinking too much, which is mankind’s downfall. Occasionally someone will have an idea like sliced bread, but mostly it is a series of "It seemed like a good idea at the time," all strung together. We can never see the problems we cause further down the road.

But then again, probably it's none of my business.


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Sometimes a person will say to me, “I am a perfectionist.” They say it with pride as if perfectionism is a virtue.

Perfectionism is a curse that will bring nothing but misery to the perfectionist and those around them.

It is a personality trait that goes hand in hand with low self-esteem.

Why? Because one can never achieve perfection, therefore you are always a loser.

My own perfectionism led to my success as a frame builder but self-hatred and anger as a person. My perfectionism was caused by abuse not only from my father but by the British school system, a system that beat down kids, and used sarcasm and ridicule as well as physical abuse. If you have seen the Pink Floyd movie “The Wall” you will know what I mean. That movie touched me deeply and helped me understand later what was going on.

I believe the reason all the great music came out of Britain in the 1960s was because of our childhood during WWII and the school system in place at the time. I was just another child of that era whose creativity went in a different direction. But for the fact my anger was directed towards myself I could have just as easily gone a different direction. Had my anger been directed towards others I could have become a violent criminal as many of my generation did. This forms the basis for my novel Prodigal Child It is a work of fiction, a story of what my life might have been had it taken a different turn early on.

As a child I was never given credit for doing well, only punished for doing wrong. As an adult I continued with the self-punishment if I screwed up and I would not tolerate anything but perfection from myself. This led to success as an artist, but failure in every other aspect of my life. Many times in my early days as a framebuilder I would take a hammer and destroy a frame because of some minor flaw. Afterwards I would sit and cry like a child, then work all night to replace the frame. This was my punishment for screwing up.

By the late 1980s my second marriage failed and I realized I needed to change. I was not always a pleasant person to be around. The sheet rock on the walls of my frame shop was full of the impressions of tools I had thrown across the room in a temper tantrum. The anger was always directed at myself never others, but those around me had to witness and listen to this. I knew I had to change, for my own sake as well as others. I started to look deep within myself to see why I was the way I was.

By the early 1990s the bike business had also changed. Bicycle dealers almost overnight it seemed were switching from road bikes to mountain bikes. By 1993 I knew it was time to leave and there was one incident that I think helped push me over the edge. A customer called me saying his Fuso Lux frame he had bought had a tiny bubble in the Columbus decal. Columbus decals were always a pain because of the material they were made from caused them to bubble when the paint was being baked in the paint oven. This is why you don’t see a Columbus decal on a custom ‘dave moulton’ frame. 

I told the customer to send the frame back. When it arrived the “bubble” in the Columbus decal was buried deep within the clear coats and was so tiny you almost needed a magnifying glass to see it. I stood there looking at it, seething with anger. I had finally come to terms with my own perfectionism, but still had to deal with the perfectionism of others. This customer expected me to repaint this frame and there was no guarantee if I did that the Columbus decal would be any different, and maybe it would be even worse.

The frame was in a vise held across the bottom bracket faces. If a fit of rage I grabbed the head tube and folded the frame in two with the head tube ending up next to the rear drop-outs. This time I did not cry, I did not stay up a night building a replacement. Instead I walked into my office and wrote the customer a check for the full retail value of the frame. I attached the check to the frame with scotch tape, threw it in the box and shipped it back. I never heard from him again.

As well as coming to terms with my perfectionism I realized that all creativity comes from the same source. It is not a right brain, left brain thing, it comes from deep within the artist, his soul or very being. The artist is simply a vehicle through which art appears. Because all art comes from the same source, all art is the same and if I had been successful in one art form, I could do so in another. This is why I was able to leave the bike business and take up writing and songwriting. If I screw up in writing unlike frame building it’s easily fixed in a rewrite.

Writing has been great therapy for me, better to get all this shit out than to hold it inside. Which is exactly what I am doing now so thank you for allowing me to indulge myself.


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