Summer Joy Riding

By Nancy R. Gibbs

At last, at last, it is the joggers who are having to get out of the way. On country roads and city streets, on boardwalks, beaches and paths through the park, the vehicle of choice for more and more Americans is the bicycle. But it is no longer just a sturdy ten-speed from Sears: bikers are buying everything from flyweight racers to meaty mountain bikes, from collapsible commuter cycles to three-wheelers for less steady senior citizens. The number of adults who ride regularly has jumped 70% in four years, to 17 million last year, according to the Bicycle Federation of America, and two-thirds of cycling converts are women. Says Jennifer Feldman, 23, a communications student at Boston University: "What I love is that it combines the cardiovascular aspects of jogging, the great-looking outfits of aerobics, plus stunning scenery and speed."

Cycling is an especially forgiving sport, which commends it to the millions of Americans who want to tone their muscles without jarring their joints. "You can work about as hard or as leisurely as you want," says Houston Surgeon Michael Appel, 50, who pedals twelve miles to work and back every day. "I can do more vigorous exercise without things beginning to hurt." Unlike the hunchback racers of old, this year's hottest models are more comfortable and more durable than earlier ones. "It's really hard for a good bike to break down these days," says Chuck McCullagh, publisher and editor of Bicycling magazine. "People can go out and get fit and not have to worry about the damn thing."

By far the fastest selling model is the mountain bike, with upright handlebars, a roomy seat and tires like a truck's. "We can't seem to make enough of them," says John Mariotti, president of Huffy Bicycles, the country's largest manufacturer, "or charge high enough prices." Costs range from $150 to $3,000, the latter for a custom-made model. Today 5 million Americans ride mountain bikes, compared with 200,000 in 1983, and the BFA expects the total to climb 70% in 1988. Despite the name, more than two-thirds are used by cyclists bent on surviving the local potholes. Says Sam Silver, co-owner of Houston's Bikes & Backpacks: "It's kind of the urban assault vehicle."

The most literal-minded mountain bikers are the "gravity" riders, who strip off the pedals, strap on a helmet, station themselves at the top of the steepest incline they can find and go like a bobsled. Says Scot Breithaupt of Palm Springs, Calif., a former motorcycle racer: "It's a bunch of death-wish riders pointing straight down the hill. It's dynamic!" Equally fearless are those riders near Vail, Colo., who take helicopters to the high country or ride the ski lifts up the mountains and then charge through the backcountry trails. "I got into mountain biking to escape," says Jonathan Nardone, 34, a pinball-machine repairman from West Islip, N.Y., who bikes in New England. "I deal with people all day long and want to get into nature."

The new Mount Snow Mountain Bike School in Vermont teaches cyclists how to negotiate the loose gravel, mud surfaces and obstacles of mountain paths, as well as offering lessons in map reading and bike maintenance. "I thought I was just going for a bike ride on back roads in New England," says Connecticut Insurance Consultant Karen Daly, 29. "They teach you how to jump logs, and we rode through a ski trail with grass up to your waist, wildflowers and mud."

Though pedaling 80 miles a day on hilly New England roads may not seem especially restful, the popularity of bicycle vacations is soaring. Vermont Country Cyclers, founded in 1980, has been growing between 30% and 40% a year. Travelers can ride for a day or a week, with a van driving along behind to carry luggage and give a lift to the lagging. "Someone once described it as credit-card camping," says Feldman, who is planning a trip this month with a rival outfit, Vermont Bicycle Touring. "You get to go out and see everything, then eat the gourmet food and not get fat."

Among the most popular riding sites in the West are the Canyonlands of Utah, where trails stretch for miles through spectacular rock formations. The crowds are growing so fast that park officials have had to enact a reservations-only system for the area's campsites. "It's hot and dusty, but it's the most spectacular riding I've ever done," says Doug Emerson of Boulder. "You expect a dinosaur or John Wayne and a bunch of bandits to come out from behind the rocks."

As with most fitness fads, the biking boom has given birth to all manner of gadgetry and fashion trends. Bikers spent $700 million on clothes and accessories last year, a 17% increase over the year before. "Ten years ago, you saw cycling clothing as a pair of lumpy wool shorts and a wool jersey," says Steve Ready of the National Bicycle Dealers Association in Costa Mesa, Calif. "You could have any color you wanted, as long as it was black." Now, he says, the sport is more "visual." Bikes come in fashion colors -- lilac mist, rosebloom, aquamarine -- with bright jerseys to match. The Lycra shorts with a padded seat, once confined to serious cyclists, are standard equipment.

Helmet sales are on the rise, particularly since sleeker designs and lighter materials have replaced the Darth Vader look of the early headgear. "People will wear a helmet if they look halfway decent in it," says Bicycling Editor McCullagh. The BFA estimates that of the 1,000 cycling deaths last year, more than half could have been prevented if the rider had worn a helmet.

Bikewear has even become trendy for nonbikers. "You're starting to see biking clothing on MTV and rock stars," says Huffy's David Goubeaux. Waist- slung bike bags are standard city-street chic, while the shorts have become so popular that some manufacturers are making them without the padding, for everyday wear. "Bicycle shorts are now avant-garde fashion," says Bruce Burgess, owner of Bicycle Holidays in Vermont. "Who cares if you've ever seen a bike?" Still to come: Gucci panniers, kidskin biking gloves, designer training wheels . . .

With reporting by Sam Maddox/Boulder and Brooke A. Masters/New York