Power, Torque and Traction

Belgian Wout van Aert wearing the World Cyclocross Championship Jersey.

A higher gear equals more traction under certain conditions. I learned this driving a manual (Stick-shift) transmission car in the late 1950s. The engine puts out torque, or twisting power, and torque is what moves the car forward. But only if the tires are gripping the road surface, if the wheels start to spin on ice, snow, or soft ground, then torque is reduced to zero, and the car goes nowhere.

The torque the engine produces is multiplied by the transmission, with the first gear (Lowest) increasing the torque the most. Therefore, first gear is engaged when starting out from a standstill as more torque is needed to move the weight of the vehicle. Once the car is rolling, less torque is required so the driver shifts up through the gears to eventually reach top gear, which puts out the least amount of torque, but transmits more revs, or speed.

If the car is stuck in mud or deep snow, the driver can sometimes get out by starting from a standstill in 3rd or 4th gear, thus reducing torque. He then pushes the clutch pedal down to disengage the clutch, revs the engine a little, and then allows the clutch to engage slightly so the clutch is slipping.

In normal circumstances, if the driver were to allow the clutch to fully engage, the engine would most likely stall because the load would be too great. But by slipping the clutch the driver is limiting the power going to the wheels. As the clutch slowly engages, torque is transmitted to the wheels gradually, just enough to move the car, but not applying too much torque so the wheels start to spin.

Now let’s fast forward from what I learned from driving a stick-shift in the 1950s, to what I learned riding cyclo-cross in the 1970s, and bear with me, there is a connection.

I was running my frame building business just outside Worcester in the West Midlands area of England. A good place to be in the bike business, as this area was a hotbed of British cycle racing, including cyclo-cross. From October to January there were events every weekend within easy driving distance.

Business slowed in the winter months, my commute to work on my bike, and a two-mile run on foot every evening was enough training, coupled with a cyclo-cross race each Sunday. I always reckoned a one-hour cyclo-cross race was the equivalent of 80 hard miles on the road. That is what my legs always felt like after a race.

There were all class of riders in these races. Professionals rode with the amateurs, and after a bunch start, the events soon strung out to a procession around a one mile or so course. I was in my early forties and still pretty fit, plus over time I gained a cyclo-cross skill set that allowed me to beat riders who were younger and faster on the road.

Some of the bigger events in the Birmingham area had enough prize money that some professional riders from Belgium and other mainland European countries would come across and enter. These guys were in a different class all together.

On a one mile course I would expect to be lapped at least two or three times during a race by the leading pros. I remember this Belgian rider went past me having caught me on my second lap, he then passed me every second lap. In other words, he was riding at twice my speed.

One time I was passed going up a steady incline through deep mud, I was in a low gear struggling to keep moving, and as this guy went by, I noticed he was on his smallest sprocket, probably 13 or 14 teeth. While my wheels were losing grip, slipping, and spinning, he appeared to be gliding across the top of the mud. Which of course was exactly what he was doing.

I remembered my old driving lesson that while my lower gear gave me more torque, it was of little use if I did not have traction. His higher gear equaled more traction, plus with his speed and momentum he was going so fast there was less time for him to sink in the mud.

Wout van Aert (Jumbo-Visma) leads the GC group on the Grand Colombier (Image: Bettini Photo)I was recently reminded of this story watching Wout van Aert perform in the Tour de France. Setting an unbelievable pace on mountain stages, shelling some of the world’s best climbers out the back of the peloton. (Above,)

Not really considered a pure climber, certainly not built like one. The other thing is Van Aert won several stages in a sprint. Former World Cyclo-Cross Champion, he must have built up a tremendous core strength riding big gears through the mud in the manner I described earlier.

He certainly developed a big engine that produces a lot of torque.

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Climbing out of the saddle

Climbing a hill out of the saddle, standing on the pedals is very tiring and a rider can soon burn himself out. But used sparingly at the right time, an experienced rider can save energy in the long run.

When deciding how to climb a hill on a bicycle, think of it as a work load. Imagine two men, each moving 100lbs. of sand from A to B in five minutes. One man hoists the 100lb. bag of sand on his shoulder, moves it from A to B in one minute, then sits down and rests for four minutes. The other man divides the sand into five, 20lb. loads and takes a minute to move each 20lb. for a total of five minutes.

Now imagine that the two men have to immediately repeat the same task over and over. Who is the fresher? The one who makes a big effort to start with, but then rests, or the man who spreads the workload over the full five minutes? A lot depends on the makeup of the individual.

If a road is an undulating series of short steep hills, it is often in the interest of a rider to use the speed and momentum of the descent to carry him half way up the next climb, then without shifting down, he gets out of the saddle and puts in a big effort to keep the momentum going to carry himself over the crest of the next hill. He does this knowing that even if this effort takes him to the point of exhaustion, he can recover on the following descent.

On a long steep climb it is different, even a long gradual climb. One must still try to keep momentum and must occasionally get out of the saddle to boost that momentum, but a rider cannot put in those super efforts, when there are no downhill respites where he can recover.

A rider climbs out of the saddle not only to get his full weight over the pedals, but to get his body nearer his hands so he has a direct pull on the handlebars in opposition the downward thrust of his legs. Think of using an elliptical treadmill in a gym. One must constantly move their body from left to right, so the user’s full weight is directly over the downward stroke of the paddles.

However, on a bike, instead of moving the body from side to side, one can move the bike and keep the body vertical. As the rider thrusts down on the right pedal, he pulls upwards on the right side of the handlebar. This not only puts an opposing thrust on the pedals, but it moves the bike to the left, effectively using the bike as a lever.

As the right leg pushes down on the right pedal, power is transferred through the crank, chainwheel, and chain to the rear wheel. Meanwhile the bike’s frame is moving to the left and the bottom bracket, is moving upwards on the right side. 

There is not just the leverage of the crank arm, but the leverage of the whole bike frame working in the opposite direction. As the pedal moves down towards the bottom of its stroke, the right side of the crank axle is moving towards the top.

When the right pedal gets to the bottom, the rider pulls up on the left side of the handlebars, while pushing downwards on the left pedal. The rider’s body stays vertical, and the bike moves from side to side. (See top picture.) Also, as the rider pushes down on one pedal, he can pull upward with his other foot on the opposing pedal. 

Obviously climbing out of the saddle like this is very tiring, one is using the whole body. But used sparingly, to increase momentum, it can be highly effective. For example if the gradient of a climb starts to level out, a strong rider can shift up a gear, then get out of the saddle to get the cadence back up to a level where he can sit down a pedal again.

It is all a matter of a rider knowing his fitness level, and his recovery time. Knowing his strengths and limitations, and that only comes with experience, hard work, and training.

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Russ Mantle, the Million Mile cyclist

This past week Russ Mantle an 82-year-old English cyclist completed a million miles on his bike. Russ started cycling in 1952, that is 67 years, averaging 14,925 miles a year, 287 miles per week.

His achievement reminded me when I started cycling about the same time. The British “Cycling” weekly magazine, at the beginning of each year would print a mileage chart that you could save and create a graph of your weekly mileage throughout the year.

At the end of each year Cycling Magazine would publish some of the reader’s charts, along with any stories about specific rides that year. How did one measure mileage back then, you might ask? In the 1930s, Joseph Lucas, a company that made bicycle lights and automobile electronics, made a little mechanical mileage counter, called a “Cyclometer.” (See magazine ad below from 1936.)

A simple inexpensive little device, costing 3 shillings and 6 pence, in 1936. About 17.5 UK Pence in today’s money. 22 cents US. It attached to the front wheel spindle on the right side, and it was easy to glance down and read your mileage as you rode. It had a little pin that attached to a spoke, so it struck a five-point star-wheel each wheel revolution. Thus, five-wheel revolutions turned the star wheel one complete turn.

It was calibrated to measure miles and tenths of a mile with a standard 27-inch wheel. If one wanted to be super accurate, you could ride a measured mile, take a reading to calculate the mileage for any size tire.

Its only drawback was, it made an annoying tick, tick sound. I used one when I started cycling but gave it up as I got into riding seriously. The Cylometer disappeared from general use sometime in the 1960s as I remember, and there was not another simple device until the electronic ones appeared some years later.

One can also calculate mileage on a map. British Ordinance Survey maps are extremely accurate, especially the larger scale one inch to the mile, which mark detail like field gates and old growth trees. I was never into keeping accurate records of my mileage, and there were long periods when I was too busy running a business to even ride a bike.

Russ Mantle however, kept meticulous records of not only his mileage but towns he went through and cafes he stopped at. On occasions, he even recorded the temperature and wind direction. He rode time trials with success and toured extensively in the UK and in Europe, USA and Canada.

It must be nice to read through his old notes and remember some of those rides in detail that would otherwise be long forgotten. What a tremendous sense of achievement to travel a million miles under your own power. All done for the simple joy of riding a bike. Only another true cyclist could understand and appreciate the enormity of such a feat.

I read a few online comments made by sceptics like “If it didn’t happen on Strada, it didn’t happen.” Back in 1952 when you sent your yearly mileage chart off to Cycling magazine, there was no glory, No one even read your name, let alone remember it. No one gave it a thumbs up, or “Liked” it.

You did it for your own personal satisfaction, and where is the personal satisfaction if you lie or cheat? It is a sad world when we have become so desensitized by corruption, and lying, we can’t allow an 82-year-old man to share his moment of glory in attaining a lifetime achievement, without saying “Prove It.”

Hats of to you Russ, I look at your picture at the top of the page and I see a man who looks like he rode a million miles, and that is good enough for me.

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Education or Enforcement

There are two ways to apply cycling laws, education or enforcement.

Going to school in the UK at least twice a year there would be a special lesson on the Highway Code.

A little Highway Code book would be given to us to take home and keep.

It not only had all the rules and laws as applied to driving a car, it laid out those that applied to riding a bicycle and pedestrians.

It was drummed into us, when you cross the street, stop, look right, look left, look right again, (Traffic came from the right in the UK.) if the road is clear then cross.

This was war time Britain of the 1940s and due to petrol rationing there were few cars on the road, especially in the rural area I lived at the time. Never-the-less when we crossed the street we went through this ritual of look right, look left.

There were cycling proficiency tests too, where we would bring our bikes to school and the local police constable would come in and instruct us on how to ride our bike both safely and in compliance with the law.

The result was when I started cycling seriously in the 1950s, I never rode on the pavement, (Sidewalk.) I never rode through red lights, and my bike always had a front and rear light when riding after dark. As for riding a bike on the wrong side of the road, toward traffic, that would be so crazy it would not even be considered.

It was somewhat of a culture shock when I came to the US in 1979 and went for a ride with the local club. The first red light we came to I stopped and everyone else kept going.

It would not be unusual to find a cyclist riding towards me on my side of the road. This led to the quandary, do I pull out in the traffic lane and let him pass on the inside, or hold my course and hope he goes around me? I usually took the initiative and went for the first option.

I remember reading of a case in New Jersey where two cyclists riding at night without lights hit head on because one was on the wrong side. Their heads hit, neither was wearing a helmet. One died instantly, the other had serious head injuries.

Young kids on BMX bikes would jump from the sidewalk to the center of the road, and then wait for a gap in opposing traffic before hopping over to the opposite sidewalk. It was a free for all, with no rules being observed or enforced. Today, from what I read, it is no better in the UK, it seems the Highway Code is no longer taught in schools.

Stuff drummed into me as a kid has stayed with me to this day, so believe me I understand why some cyclists ride through red lights. It is what they have always done since they were a kid, no one said they shouldn't do it.

“If I stop for a red light, even if there is no other traffic in sight, it is not because I am somehow better than the cyclist who just rides on through. It is because not to stop feels uncomfortable, and goes against a lifetime habit.”

Habits, even lifetime habits can be changed with a little conscious effort. Getting in the habit of obeying traffic laws while riding a bike would be a good thing for all cyclists to do right now. I am reading of a ticket writing blitz going on in New York, it will not surprise me if this happens in other cities in the US as cycling becomes more popular and more and more cyclists take to the streets.

Recently a cyclist was killed by a hit and run driver in NY City. As usual the culprit was never found, but as a result, police started issuing more tickets to cyclists. Critics are saying it is unfair to clamp down on cyclists in this manner. I am inclined to agree to a certain extent. It is unfair that a cyclist should pay the same fine for running a red light that a motorist has to pay.

However, it is quite simple to avoid getting one of these tickets, don't run red lights. Also, whoever said life is fair? It is unfair that I am forced to take my shoes off at the airport, because one idiot tried to blow up a plane with a bomb in his shoe.

One Brooklyn cyclist got three tickets. One for riding his bike on the sidewalk, another riding against the flow of traffic, and a third for mouthing off to the cop who was giving him the ticket. All three of these tickets could have been avoided, had this particular cyclist not become accustomed to riding his bike where ever and however he please.

Laws regarding cyclists running red lights and other infractions are in place everywhere right now, so too are fines set. Because the police have not enforced these laws in the past, it may seem unfair when they suddenly start issuing tickets.

There are ways to get people to follow the rules. You educate, preferably at an early age as happened with me, it then becomes a lifetime habit. Or you start fining people as a deterrent. 

I find obeying the law as I ride my bike, does not affect my cycling pleasure, it does not slow me down all that much either. And if my local law enforcement starts issuing tickets to cyclists, it will not affect me.

Those who get tickets will no doubt continue to say how unfair it is, and how they’ve always ridden on the sidewalk or went through red lights. I may sympathize, but I doubt I will be offering to pay their fine.

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In the best shape of my life

Some say that the time for reminiscing about when we were in the best physical shape of our lives, is for when we are done riding. When that time comes for me, I already know when that was, 1970 and 1971. It started literarily by accident. 

I was living in England, it was early in the 1970 season. I was out training alone after dark and was rounding a bend on a relatively quiet country road when a motorcycle traveling in the opposite direction, took the same bend on the wrong side of the road, and met me head on.

The motor cycle, ridden by a sixteen year old with no driver’s license or insurance, with a youth of similar age riding on the back. These kids were on a big ol’ British Norton Dominator and were racing some others who were following also on motorcycles. Because they did not see a light from an approaching car assumed it was safe to take this particular corner on the inside. 

All I remember of the impact was a huge headlight coming straight for me, the next moment I was lying on my back in the road. What actually happened was that the motorcycle passed slightly to my right, the handlebars of the motorcycle passed over my bike but hit my right forearm. Remember this was England so I was riding on the left side of the road.

The impact threw me up in the air, doing a complete summersault, and I landed on my back in the road. Rather like a wrestler, doing a move called “The Irish Whip.” It happed so fast I do not remember that part, but know that is what happened because the back of my head was slightly grazed, (We didn’t wear helmets back then.) and the back was ripped out of my sweatshirt.

The motorcycle also went down and the two youths picked up some road rash as they slid across the road and ended up against a wooden barn on the opposite side. Apart from this they were uninjured. I was not so lucky. My right forearm was shattered, broken in three places. My bike on the other hand was completely untouched, not even a scratch in the paint.

I experienced the worst pain in my life that night lying in a hospital with my arm a temporary sling hung by my bed. The next morning they operated, and had to put a stainless steel plate in my arm to hold it all together. The plate is still there today, and I wouldn’t know it except for a six inch operation scar to remind me. 

They put my arm in a cast from my hand to my armpit, with my elbow held at 90 degrees. This cast was on for five months. I could drive a car and do a few other things but couldn’t work. I decided to keep riding my bike and rigged it up with a single fixed gear and a brake lever in the center of the handlebars so I could ride with one hand.

I rode every day as much as 60 to 80 miles. Weekends I would ride with the other guys in my cycling club. They cut me no slack and would drop me on the first hill we came to. I was riding with my left hand only so had to sit down on the hills, and could not get out of the saddle to climb. I would chase the group for miles, sometimes catching up, other times I never saw them again.

Weekdays I would sometimes ride with an older retired guy. He was probably in his late sixties, where as I was 34 at the time. He kicked my butt, and told me months later that I had the same effect on him. He kept telling himself that he couldn’t let a cripple with one arm beat him, while I was thinking ‘I can’t let this old man beat me.’

When the cast came off after five months, the doctors were amazed, my right arm had muscle in it. My left arm got a hell of a work out and I have heard that if you work one arm or leg it will affect the other. So riding my bike was probably the best thing I could have done for my recovery.

The end of that year and the one that followed was my best season ever. The five months that my arm was in a cast I had been doing over 400 miles a week, and doing it all on a single 69 inch fixed gear. (46 x 18.) I could spin and was as strong as a horse on the hills. There is no doubt in my mind when I was in the best shape of my life.

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