The pedestrian, accustomed to noting distances, can usually judge the rate or pace travelled, and decide very accurately upon the distance traversed, with only the time as a guide; for the pace, so many miles an hour, multiplied by the number of hours, gives the distance.
On the bicycle the pace is very easily estimated in a similar manner. Count the strokes per minute as each knee rises, divide that by two, and you have the number of revolutions of the crank. The gear gives the diameter of the wheel larger than the one on the bicycle; sixty-four gear, for instance, means that the crank revolution covers a distance equal to a wheel with a diameter of sixty-four inches. The circumference of a wheel is three times its diameter; and 64 multiplied by 3 equals 192 inches measured on the ground for one revolution of the crank. Multiply the distance measured on the ground by the crank revolution by the number of strokes made per minute, divide by twelve to give the number of feet the crank has covered in one revolution, and you have the distance in feet travelled per minute. To find the rate of miles per hour, multiply that result by 60 to find the number of feet travelled per hour, and divide the result by 5280, the number of feet in a mile. The watch should have a second hand for bicycle work. The cyclometer taken for five minutes, then multiplied by twelve, gives the rate of mileage per hour, a very convenient way of ascertaining the rate of speed per hour.
It is well to know the rhythm of stroke of a certain rate per hour, for it is often of assistance in determining distance, and will frequently prevent a hurry when train connections are to be made, by assuring you that you are easily travelling a pace that will take you to your destination on time.
The alertness and quickness of perception that bicycling cultivates seem marvellous. A road, previously accepted as ordinarily good, becomes full of pitfalls that the wary learn to avoid. Slippery or uneven surfaces, tacks and broken glass, are to be noted and avoided, inequalities allowed for, and preparation made to overcome the tendency of the machine on unexpected hard bits of road.
One of the dangers of sidepath wheeling often encountered is a slippery spot or a place where the surface may give way, such as the edge of a bank along which the path runs, with a fence on the other side. Here, if the bicycle slips, the bicyclist is pretty sure to be thrown against the fence. In sidepath wheeling a sharp lookout must be kept for these slippery spots and weak edges, and also for stones or stumps that run through the uneven surface.
A first coast on a hill whose pitch has been miscalculated, and which proves steeper than was anticipated, is a terrible surprise. To find one’s self clinging desperately to a runaway machine, with no hope save in the ascending grade that seems so far away, is anything but a pleasant experience. In such case sit still, hold fast, keep straight, and if nothing is in the way to collide with, there is hope, barring unexpected surface obstacles. The coaster’s safety in steering lies in swaying; the pedals are out of the question, and the front wheel is better undisturbed. A slight inclination to either side will alter the course of the bicycle without interfering with balance or momentum, and the hands can be ready, gripping hard, to keep the wheel steady.
In coasting, sit well in the saddle, letting that take the whole weight, and do not push too hard with the feet on the coasters. The feet should not be braced against the coasters, but should rest easily against them with an even pressure.
To learn to coast, practise at first either on a slight or a small grade; another way is to get up speed on the level, and take one foot off at the time. The most marvellous experience of bicycling is to have a wind carry you coasting up hill—a wind, too, that is seemingly adverse, or at least not directly favorable.
Trust to the map, the watch, and the cyclometer to locate your whereabouts, and do not place too much faith in answers to inquiries, unless you are speaking to a bicyclist; for people unaccustomed to accurate judgment differ greatly in their estimation of a given distance or a general direction. You need only stop three or four times in a mile or two, and inquire the way to a town say five or six miles distant, to be convinced of this fact.