by MICHAEL LEVY
                   5/30/99

                  There is something about the recumbent bicycle that turns riders into proselytizers:
                  They have seen the light and want to share their vision of two-wheeled salvation. Last
                  Sunday I became a convert.

                  The occasion was the monthly social ride of "The Recumbenteers" club, the one
                  coinciding with the annual hot-dog picnic put on by Cycles Plus, one of the local bike
                  shops that sells these laid-back two-wheelers.

                  "Come on out," said Ed Weiss, co-founder of the group. "We can loan you a bike.
                  Ride a 'bent bike, and you'll never go back to a standard model."

                  Although I've been riding two-wheelers almost as long as I've been shuffling
                  on this mortal coil, I've been off all kinds in recent years except for the stationary
                  ones in cardiac rehab gyms. So, I was not sure I'd be able to do more than a token
                  turn around the block. But these strange-looking machines have fascinated me ever
                  since they began to enter the bike world 30 years ago.

                  I knew that 'bents -- short for "recumbent" -- hold all human-powered speed records
                  and a glance can tell you why:  They are inherently more aerodynamic than other bikes.

                  The best Olympic road racer, bent over his/her handlebars, is still presenting a lot of
                  frontal area, hence a lot of drag compared to the laid-back 'bent rider. Besides sitting
                  back with legs out front, the recumbent rider can brace against the seat and exert
                  loads of leg strength.

                 That's the theory. Speed, endurance and all that other stuff still depend on rider fitness.
                 But there have been demonstrations, such as Gossamer Albatross, the human-powered
                 plane that flew over the English Channel powered by a recumbent bike rider.

                 What I did not know is that there are all sorts of recumbents, some more recumbent
                 than others.

                 Generally they are divided by wheelbase:  long, low (62-inch) tourers that are comfy;
                 and fast and short (40-inches) with the rider's legs well ahead of the machine. These
                 are sprightlier and and easier for the beginner to master turning. My first try on a
                 long wheelbase model was shaky. The front end felt like it was connected to the
                 handlebars with spaghetti.

                 The second machine, a short wheelbase ride, felt a lot more secure. In minutes I was
                  helmeted and riding onto Route 5 with 14 fellow riders off on a 22-mile round trip
                  through Clarence to Akron Falls via the former "Peanut Line," now a 6-mile "rail to trail"
                  bike path.

                  I made it. No pain, no stain and no fatigue!

                 Had I done this on my own road bike after such a long layoff, I think I'd still be
                 panting by the side of the road.

                "That's the best thing about these." said Jeff Gardiner. "I've been riding bikes all
                my life  --  have a mountain bike, a road bike . . . My wife and I even tried a tandem,
                but she wasn't able to ride with me because she has fused vertebrae in her back.
                Last year, she got a recumbent and rode the Tour de Cure. This year we'll both be on them.

                "You don't get a sore neck from looking up to see cars, you don't get a sore crotch
                from the bike saddle, your hands don't get numb from supporting your upper body
                weight," Gardiner said.

                Riding into stiff headwinds, one does notice that wind resistance on these bikes is
                significantly lower. Add a streamlined fairing for better aerodynamics  --  and the
                recumbent also makes a great wet and cold-weather ride, the ideal two-wheeler
                for commuting if one is willing to put up with waves, grins and motorists stopping
                you with questions.

                "Even though you're lower than a standard bike, I think people notice these more,"
                said club co-founder Paul Bigelow.

               "I think people are used to bikes so they don't 'see' them anymore," Bigelow said.
               "The biggest problem for cyclists is cars misjudging your speed so they cut in front
               of you too soon. But for some reason  --  maybe because we are still an unusual
               sight in Western New York  --  folks seem to give us a wide berth."

               They aren't cheap. Mike Miller of Gasport rides a low-slung Linear made of
               aerospace components that costs about the same as a full-blown road-racing bicycle.

               "In general, these start about $600-$700," said bike shop owner Mike Trost. "That's
               because no one is really tooling up to make a lot of them  --  it's still a small part of
               the business, not like mountain bikes. But if you look at the quality of the components
               --  wheels, tires, gears, shifters  --  that is about what you'll pay for a comparably
               equipped mountain bike or a road bike."

              Since you cannot stand up on the pedals and pull down on the bars to climb hills,
              you must keep "spinning" at a steady pace, resulting in complex gearing (at least 21
              speeds) and an even more complex chain drive setup.

              Club member Joe Kilian found a way to cut ownership costs through recycling.

              "I built my own recumbent and one for my wife, Tina, thanks to heavy trash days,"
              he said. "I scrounged frames and parts from cast-off bikes and recycled them.
              A pal helped me weld up the frames from several bikes and I took components
              off other cast-offs to make the gear train and adapt the steering. I think I got
              these up and running for about 20 bucks each."

              The local club can be found on the Internet at
               http://www.bluemoon.net/~padelbra/the_recumbenteers.htm
               or by calling Weiss at 634-9660 or Bigelow at 896-1626.
 

                  Recumbent cyclists exercise in comfort

                 By MICHAEL LEVY
                 4/23/00
 

                 My Aunt Marta calls the first few minutes of family gatherings the
                 ""organ recital"" - that's when the senior members of the clan catch
                 up on health issues.

                 I'll resist the temptation to moan, but like many of outdoors
                 enthusiasts who find themselves puffing after scrabbling out of a
                 trout stream, I am ashamed about my lousy physical shape and have
                 been ever since Ted Kerasote chastised a national group of outdoor
                 writers, telling us we did not respect the sports we covered or the
                 game we hunted by being physically unfit.

                 His audience, liberally sprinkled with grizzled veterans whose bellies
                 belied too many evenings spent verbally hunting along ""Mahogany
                 Ridge"" (as they call the bar down at the gun club) seemed fairly
                 responsive. The young bucks, who already watch their diet and work
                 out, were all nodding in vigorous agreement.

                 Kerasote is a paragon of the outdoor writing life: A short, wiry man
                 whose body has been sculpted by the rigors of a mountain-climber's
                 life (there is no more demanding sport). He is also a serious hunter,
                 making all the meat he eats (elk mostly). He grows his own
                 vegetables too, on his Rocky Mountain property and as a successful
                 freelancer he bows to few men. In short a guy easy to hate - if he
                 were not so decent and such good company. I heartily suggest
                 reading his book, ""Blood Ties,"" an eye-opener for anyone
                 interested in hunting.

                 But I digress. The point is that there is no time like the present to
                 start preparing for next fall's, hunting, skiing or snow-shoeing; and
                 the key to that is cardio-vascular or aerobic fitness. And unless you
                 are a masochist, this goal is best achieved by doing something you
                 enjoy, so you'll continue the training process.

                 In my case, cycling is about the only activity likely to get done
                 regularly. I used to be a fairly serious ""roadie"" enjoying my light
                 weight, dropped-bar machine. But when that became more pain
                 than gain - due to an arthritic neck and, now, wrists worn out from
                 decades of pencil-pushing and computer-punching - I had to quit.

                 Then I discovered the recumbent bike - which looks like a lawn chair
                 on wheels. The recumbent does not break your wrists, strain your
                 arms or crick your neck. But enough of the ""organ recital."" I just
                 took the plunge and bought one and on my inaugural ride with the
                 ""recumbenteers"" club, I believe I may have found a machine that
                 makes cycling comfortable again, while still allowing a decent turn of
                 speed.

                 Shopping for a recumbent bike revealed a number of little quirks,
                 however. First they come in wild variety of configurations. Some of
                 the short wheelbase models are downright twitchy, unless you've
                 acquired a bit of experience. These have their pedals on ""mast""
                 extended in front of the front wheel and can exhibit weird ""pedal
                 steering"" according to Paul Bigelow of the local club

                 ""Every time you pump the pedal, that mast moves the front end from
                 side to side,"" Bigelow said.

                 He rides a long wheelbase touring model these days, a kind of
                 low-rider whose wheelbase is about the same as a tandem
                 bicycle's. It is comfortable and stable at high speeds (they easily hit
                 60 mph down hill) but at low speeds the front wheel may want to flop
                 over. You need to ride short wheelbase or long wheelbase machines
                 a bit to get the hang of them.

                 A beginner (like me) seems happiest on a ""compact wheelbase""
                 machine. Several local bike shops have them, and among the
                 easiest on which to make the transition from upright to recumbent
                 riding is the Bike E, almost a blend of the two styles.

                 Before I peeve all the other cycling clubs, I'd like to suggest the
                 Niagara Frontier Bicycle Club, and the Big Wheels as great for
                 group rides. These rides are a great benefit because you are too
                 ashamed to quit. The Niagara Frontier group usually offers several
                 rides of differing distances and difficulty and on any club ride (they
                 nurture beginners) the more adept will see beginners do not get
                 dropped and will be there to help with roadside repairs.
                 The Buffalo Cycling Cub is for racers - and the level of competition
                 here is superb - and there is a mountain biking club for those who
                 want to do it in the dirt.

                 But the recumbents fascinate because the machinery is so varied
                 and in some cases, so quirky. Moreover, the riders seem equally
                 split between slower riders who enjoy pain-free cycling, the younger
                 speedsters and the technos who love the aerodynamic efficiency,
                 the variety of design and the fact that recumbents are the basis of all
                 sorts of human-powered experimental vehicles.

                 Curious? Drop by the Amherst Pepsi Center next Sunday when the
                 club meets at 2 p.m. for a demonstration day. The Bicyleman, the
                 largest dealer of recumbents in New York, will bring a dozen or more
                 different machines to try out. Club members are usually very genial
                 about sharing the joy of being recumbent, too. After all, recumbent
                 riders are still so small a group, most are eager to spread their
                 particular gospel.

                 Internet users will find the Recumbenteers at:

                 www.bluemoon.net/~padelbra/
                 the_recumbenteers.htm

                 A really good on-line magazine just was launched on the recumbent,
                 too: www.bentrideronline.com

                  Laid-back entrepreneur finds niche in recumbent bikes

                 By MICHAEL LEVY
                 News Staff Reporter
                 5/1/00

                 ALFRED STATION - Peter Stull was not born to be the largest "niche"
                 bicycle dealer in the state,  but he did start at age seven. Now he has a
                 multi-state clientele and a seemingly 'mart-proof small business.

                 As a small bike-shop proprietor, he has found a specialty that big chain
                 stores, like K-Mart and Wal-Mart, have shown little interest in pursuing.

                 "I began fixing and selling bikes in 1966," says Stull, proprietor of
                 The Bicycle Man, the largest dealer of recumbent bicycles in New
                 York, and one of the largest dealers of the laid-back, low-slung riders
                 anywhere in the East.

                 While helping clean out a friend's garage as a child, Stull came
                 across two old bikes slated for the junk man. "I talked my mom into
                 hauling them home in the station wagon," Stull recalls. "Over the next
                 few weeks I stripped parts from one to repair the other, then painted
                 everything black, including the seat cover. While I was at it, I painted
                 a "FOR SALE" sign on a piece of plywood."

                 Set out in the front yard, it sold for $13. With some of that money,
                 Stull bought bike parts, fixed the second old machine and sold that
                 one for $17.

                 "The guy asked if I'd take a trade-in. I said yes, he came back with
                 another bike, I knocked off $1 and we had a deal."

                 An entrepreneur was born, and as word spread, young Stull found
                 himself in the bike repair and sales business. He's stayed there ever
                 since, even dropping out of Alfred University. "A "C' average was not
                 good enough to justify the money spent," he said.

                 He now runs a deceptively tiny shop two miles from his parents' front
                 yard where the business began. And while he repairs everything -
                 even high-wheeled antiques for the Smithsonian Institution - and
                 sells all tyes of two-wheelers, Stull's big draw is the fleet of
                 recumbents he keeps on hand.

                 Bike shops would seem to be one area where small businesses can
                 thrive, but these days even they need an edge. Neighborhood shops
                 like Shickluna's on Hertel Avenue in Buffalo can become city-wide
                 fixtures after a century doing repairs and selling bikes. Other bike
                 shops cater to the racing crowd, but all are being threatened by the
                 giant sports store chains.

                 Bert Dunn, who operates two "big box" stores (Bert's Bikes) in
                 Orchard Park and Amherst, says he does not fear Wal-Mart, but is
                 convinced size is the key to survival in the cycling business.

                 "Everything is going Big Box," says Dunn, who started working in his
                 father's small bike shop when he was eight. "You don't have
                 competition from Wal-Mart so much as from the new big sporting
                 goods chains like Dick's or Galyan's. They'd love to do (the
                 business) we do in bikes."

                 Dunn believes in expanding in one place (Buffalo) and offering
                 everything from one-speed cruisers to high-tech racing bikes,
                 commuting machines and mountain bikes. Bert's also sells
                 treadmills and other fitness machines and has branched into in-line
                 skates.

                 Cycles Plus in Clarence - and a new branch in East Aurora - has
                 much smaller shops but also sells a full range of high-end machines.
                 All three of these local merchants dabble in recumbents.

                 "I don't know if they'll ever get very big, but they are great for people
                 with bad backs and other problems." Dunn says. "When we began
                 selling 'bents a couple years ago, my first customer was a former
                 "roadie' whose bad back prevented him from riding a dropped-bar
                 bike. He came back three days later for some adjustments and
                 already had 400 miles on it."

                 Shickluna's carries the Bike E, a clever design that is a bit more
                 upright tan other recumbents, hence among the easiest to master.

                 "Most everyone who tries it likes it," says proprietor Mustafa Imam,
                 "and almost all of them are bought by people in their 40s or older
                 who like the comfort. There's no pressure on their wrists, like they'd
                 get from a mountain bike or a road bike."

                 While most shops that carry these machines may sell one or two
                 brands and may keep one or two machines in stock, The
                 Bicycleman represents seven recumbent manufacturers and keeps
                 at least 15 different machines on hand for test rides. That alone
                 draws customers from New England to Kentucky. Riding a variety of
                 these machines is important, Stull believes, "because 'bents are so
                 varied in length and steering systems, so different in handling, speed
                 and even seat position, that not every rider feels at home on a
                 particular model."

                 Stull started riding these sit-down machines in 1995 because of
                 repetitive stress injury to his wrists, likely from his road-racing days.
                 "I love them!" he declares. "They are technically interesting, and after
                 33 years working on bikes, I don't often come across a new
                 situation. Besides, there is such a wide variety: Upright bikes' wheel
                 bases vary by three inches, 'bents wheel bases vary by as much as
                 three feet! That's why I tell people to test-ride several types from
                 different manufacturers."

                 Stull, who used to commute 20 miles a day by bike year-round, ("I've
                 helped push out cars stuck in snowbanks.") didn't bother to get a
                 driver's license until he was 29. He even met his wife while fixing her
                 brother's bicycle.

                 Their daughters seem to share his enthusiasm: Abby, 12, rode
                 50-mile tours at age 9, and Rachel, 9, likes to hang out at the shop.
                 "I give her old bikes and we fix them together," Stull says.

                 Every year he travels to the Smithsonian to maintain their collection
                 of antique bicycles, and says his simple lifestyle was deeply
                 influenced by the years he spent living rent-free with Wiley Hand, a
                 former school teacher who was "at least 86, when I knew him.

                 "Wiley never lived in a house with a phone or electricity, never drove
                 a car" Stull said. "I once asked him if he remembered where he was
                 when Kennedy was shot. He thought a moment and said: "No, but I
                 was in front of the hardware store on Main Street in Stannards when
                 I first heard that McKinley had been shot, in 1901.' "

                 Stull's first shop was called the "Pedal Pusher."

                 One day he overheard someone recommending it to a friend: "Oh,
                 what does he call it, you know, the bicycle man . . ."

                 "Right there I renamed my business," Stull says.

                 That first year he saw "less money from new sales than what it costs
                 for one good bike today," but the rent-free situation helped.

                 These days business is much better - despite being literally as well
                 as figuratively "laid back." And while Stull is far from rich, he believes
                 the well-known focus on recumbents - which make his shop in a
                 former 1849 school house a mecca for seekers of the machines -
                 will keep supporting his family.

                 "One thing is sure, I have a Wal-Mart-proof business" Stull says.