NAMES OF THE PARTS OF A BICYCLE.

1. Handles or grips.38. Rear mud guard.
2. Handle bar.39. Mud guard stays, arms or braces.
3. Handle bar stem.40. Front hub.
4. Fork crown.41. Rear, or back hub.
5. Fork side.42. Top head cup.
6. Lamp bracket.43. Bottom head cup.
7. Handle bar clamp, binder, or “pinch bind.” 44. Step.
8. Brake lever.45. Head lock-nut.
9. Brake joint and screw.46. Chain adjuster.
10. Brake rod or plunger.47. Pedals.
11. Brake collars and screws.48. Pedal end plate.
12. Brake tube.49. Pedal side plate.
13. Brake spoon.50. Pedal axle, or spindle, and centre tube.
14. Head.51. Head adjusting cone.
15. Upper, horizontal or top tube.52. Outside, or small, pedal nut.
16. Lower, head to bracket, tube.53. Inside, or large, pedal nut.
17. Seat mast, diagonal, or saddle-post tube.54. Saddle, seat or L post or pillar.
18. Rear or back stays.55. Arm or top piece of pillar.
19. Rear or back forks.56. Saddle.
20. Head lugs or connections.57. Saddle adjusting screw.
21. Saddle post frame—connection or cluster.58. Saddle spring.
22. Saddle post clamp or binder, bolt and nut.59. Saddle clamp or clip.
23. Rear or back fork-end.60. Brake spring.
24. Crank hanger or bottom bracket.61. Rear axle nut.
25. Chain—Humber or block pattern.62. Valves.
26. Rear or small sprocket or chain wheel.63. Hub oil cup.
27. Front, or large sprocket or chain wheel.64. Crank hanger, or bottom bracket, oil cup.
28. Crank axle, shaft or spindle.65. Sprocket wheel tooth.
29. Cranks.66. Braces, stays or bridges of rear frame.
30. Crank key, or cotter pin.67. Brake guide.
31. Front, or steering, wheel.68. Mud guard clip.
32. Rear, or driving, wheel.69. Coaster or foot rest.
33. Tires.70. Fork stem or neck tube.
34. Rims.71. Centre block of chain.
35. Spokes.72. Side plate.
36. Spoke nipples.73. Chain rivet.
37. Front mud guard.74. Front fork.

CHAPTER I.
EVOLUTION OF THE BICYCLE—1816 TO 1899.

“The nothing of the day is a machine called the Velocipede. It is a wheel carriage to ride cock-horse upon, sitting astride and pushing it along with the toes, a rudder wheel in the hand. They will go seven miles in an hour. A handsome ‘gelding’ will come to 8 guineas; however, they will soon be cheaper unless the army takes to them.”—Letter of John Keats to a friend, about 1818.

The future historian of cycledom will clearly note that 1898 was memorable for the reincarnation of the chainless; that the chain models were improved in quality and reduced in price, and that the trade did not hold a show, this being the first lapse since those events began in this country in 1890. Conservative old England, where shows were first held and the bicycle really began to succeed, has just closed her twenty-first or “coming-of-age” show in London, and the other large cities of the kingdom are, in their turn, pushing the show around the circuit as usual. America—progressive and enthusiastic—after less than one decade of it, exhausted itself for the time, and the National Board of Trade of Cycle Manufacturers decided to pass 1898, refusing to give sanction to either national or local exhibitions.

From the stand of the riding public much might be said on the affirmative side of the show question. The show brings under one roof all the new models and accessories for the coming year, affording ready means of comparisons, instructive, even if sometimes odious; maker and rider come together, and the latter especially, has opportunity to renew old friendships; the copious reports and illustrations in the daily and trade press arouse expectation in the cycling public, and undoubtedly make many new converts; the gap between riding seasons is bridged across “the winter of our discontent,” and things are kept on the move. Not denying aught of this, the makers reply that they are not in the amusement business; that this is a costly form of advertising directly, also delaying trade both by inducing buyers to wait to see it all and by tying up their representatives when they ought to be on the road visiting agents; that no other business has or needs such gatherings; and that shows were originally intended to bring together maker and dealer, not maker and rider.

Intelligent and impartial observers who have studied the question from both sides, say that all the trouble has come from the American habit of overdoing, and that the makers are to blame for deviation from the original idea, and for going into gorgeous competitions in electric lighting, costly furnishings and decorations and a prodigal waste of printed matter; that when aisles are packed and the week is a society event, the greatest thing in a show, the one chiefly cared for, and really about the only one that can be seen, is the show itself, the crowd itself being what the crowd attends; that the thing becomes a grab for “souvenirs” and a spectacular waste, instead of an exhibit of cycles and accessories to those who really want to see them.

TRANSFORMATION OF “THE SHOW.”

There has been a divergence from the original idea, certainly, even in England. The Stanley Show was at first the happy thought of some member of the Stanley Club, one of the oldest if not quite the oldest of cycle clubs, in a time of cycle feebleness, when the young sport needed all the aid it could command. To help things along through the winter, and doubtless largely on the strictly social side, it was proposed to get together in one place as many patterns of cycle and as many kindred articles as could be got. From that feeble start the thing has grown, as cycling grew. In a like feeble way, though with a model to follow, cycle showing began in this country, at Philadelphia. During the years that have followed it has brought the public into line, until in New York there is now only one building large enough to hold it—and that none too large for such an event. In Chicago there was one vast enough, but so vast that it had to be placed so far away from business and residence that it was as if a show were to be held out at Jamaica, on Long Island. Reaching the spot was certainly none too easy, and the cold was apt to be very bitter. Here in New York, it is urged, had the makers, through the National Board, chosen and decided to revert to the plan of a simple trade exhibition, and had the date been in November or December, instead of January or February, the cost would have been small, and all interests really concerned would have been benefited, even while allowing, although not pressing, the public to attend.