Bicycles don’t come with mirrors, do they? But they should, and I explain why in “Taking the Rear View.”

What sort of mirror should you get? Some cyclists prefer a helmet or eyeglass mirror, but I don’t like anything sticking out in front of my eyes. I keep wondering what would happen if I crashed. And while one-eyed riders like Farwell haven’t got as much to lose in this regard—his left eye is, in his words, “just a decorative accessory”—they can’t use helmet mirrors on their blind side, anyway. Helmet mirrors have other drawbacks, too. The image is small, the perspective changes as you turn your head from side to side, and the mounting points are always suspect. Still, some folks swear by them.

Not me. I like a mirror that mounts on my handlebars. Some plug right into the bar end. Of course, these won’t be of much use if your bike has bar-end shifters (aka “barcons”). But if it doesn’t, you’ll have at least a couple of mirrors to choose from. Here, for example, is a Zefal Cyclop, mounted on my utility bike:

Like most bar-end mirrors, the Cyclop can be used even if you’ve fitted so-called “bar ends,” those projecting, cow-horn-like grips that give you more hand position options with straight bars. And as you can see, my utility bike has them. The Cyclop is infinitely adjustable, and it pivots freely to the rear. That minimizes the likelihood that you’ll snap it off. Minimizes, but not eliminates. The Cyclop doesn’t pivot forward. One day Farwell pulled up close alongside me on my right, coming to a stop just ahead of my front wheel. At almost the same instant, I rolled forward. I only traveled about a foot, but my bar end caught his mirror. Snap. Crackle. Pop. His mirror was no more.

Apart from that one little idiosyncrasy, the Cyclop is nearly ideal. The image is bright and clear and steady, and the mirror shows just enough of the road to give you fair warning that something is gaining on you, but not so wide a swathe that approaching logging trucks are reduced to tiny dots. It’s rugged, too, laughing off the assaults of acid rain and road salt. Just don’t try to bend it in the wrong direction.

Unfortunately, the Cyclop is hard to find here in the States, as are the wonderful Zefal 88 frame pumps. (Maybe this is a legacy of the “freedom fries” flap.) I’ve seen another bar-end mirror called the Mirrycle, but I’ve no experience with it. Here it is:

Looks good, doesn’t it—though I’ve heard complaints that it vibrates so much on rough roads that it’s hard to see anything. Can anyone confirm this?

 
But what about mirrors for bikes with bar-end shifters? Here are two possibilities, one on each end of the ‘bars on my LHT:

 

On the left is the parabolic mirror that Rivendell calls “the German mirror.” I know it by no other name. (Shades of The French Lieutenant’s Woman!) On the right is a Blackburn Road Bike mirror. The German mirror clamps directly to the bars with a rather cumbersome screw-adjustable strap:

And it swivels on a universal joint. It, too, is nearly infinitely adjustable. This is a Good Thing. On the other hand, the parabolic mirror reduces big trucks to small dots. Not so good. Moreover, the plastic is easily scratched. Cleaning it is a pain. The Blackburn shines by contrast. The image is both larger (and brighter) than the image in the German mirror. But the Velcro mount is a bit Rube Goldberg. Here they are close up: the German mirror above, the Blackburn in the photo below.

I rode with both for a couple of months, to see which I liked best. In the end, I chose the Blackburn, but I kept the German mirror as a spare. I sometimes use it on the right when a trip requires me to travel busy roads during rush hour, or when I want to keep an eye on the right wheel of a loaded trailer, to prevent it drifting over into a roadside ditch. Then I’m glad I have two mirrors.

 
This is only a sample of what’s available. With so many mirrors on the market today, it shouldn’t be hard to find one that will let you see if something large and fierce is gaining on you. Take it from me—it’s worth the effort. What you don’t know can hurt you.

 
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