Nearly a decade ago (!), I wrote about my old Land Shark bicycle.
I got to thinking about it when I came across this:
Showing posts with label Land Shark bicycle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Land Shark bicycle. Show all posts
01 October 2023
06 January 2015
The Real Pista
In an earlier post, I recounted my misadventure with my first "fixie" conversion: a Peugeot U-08 on which I tried to lock down a fixed cog and lockring to the stock Normandy hub by the force of my youthful hormones.
Before that, I wrote about what might have been the wildest bike I've ever owned: a KHS Aero Track. Since then, you've read about my many adventures on Tosca, the fixed-gear Mercian I now ride.
While Tosca's frame has track geometry, more or less, I never intended it as an NJS-approved (or -approvable) velodrome bike. Instead, I think of it as a cross between a track bike and the British "club" machines from the 1930s through the 1950s: Something I can ride for a couple of hours, or more rather than the minutes or seconds it takes to sprint around banked curves.
And, yes, it has a "flip-flop hub" (as those club bikes often had) brakes (!) and water bottle braze-ons (!!)--and bags, even.
But I once had a track bike that had none of those things. It wasn't even drilled for brakes. (The KHS was.) It had a "flip-flop" hub--for fixed gears on both sides. The bike I'm going to write about was intended as a track machine, pure and simple.
It's a name you've all seen, but in an iteration you haven't seen unless you probably haven't seen unless you've been cycling for a couple of decades.
It's---drumroll--a Bianchi Pista. But not the one that all of the hipsters in Williamsburg were riding around 2005. That, while probably a decent bike, is a Chinese knockoff of the Pista I rode for about five years.
This BIanchi Pista was made in Italy, in the same factory as their other racing bikes. Its tubes were Columbus Cro Mor, which were said to be stiffer than the SL tubes of my Colnago.
Actually, given that and the tight track geometry, the Pista wasn't quite as stiff or harsh as I expected it to be. Mind you, it's not what I'd ride on a hilly century, but I found I could put in an hour or two without feeling that my dental work was going to fall out.
Then again, I very rarely rode it on anything rough. Most of my rides on the Pista were in Prospect Park, only a couple of blocks from where I was living (in Park Slope, Brooklyn) during the time I rode it. For laps starting in Grand Army Plaza, the Pista was great.
But, eventually, I got tired of that and, if I recall correctly, needed some cash for some harebrained venture I came up with. The guy who bought it from me had aspirations of actually becoming a professional racer. (I don't think he did, but that says nothing about the bike, really.) He talked me down a bit in price because he didn't like the color (which, of course, I loved) but still preferred it to "Crest toothpaste green", as he called BIanchi's Celeste finish.
When I first got the Pista, I had my Mondonico--my first purple bike--and, by the time I sold it, I was riding my Land Shark--my first purple-and-green, and my first custom, frame. Also, at the time I bought the Pista, I was just starting to do some fairly serious off-road riding on a Jamis Dakota and, later, my Bontrager Race Lite.
Before that, I wrote about what might have been the wildest bike I've ever owned: a KHS Aero Track. Since then, you've read about my many adventures on Tosca, the fixed-gear Mercian I now ride.
While Tosca's frame has track geometry, more or less, I never intended it as an NJS-approved (or -approvable) velodrome bike. Instead, I think of it as a cross between a track bike and the British "club" machines from the 1930s through the 1950s: Something I can ride for a couple of hours, or more rather than the minutes or seconds it takes to sprint around banked curves.
And, yes, it has a "flip-flop hub" (as those club bikes often had) brakes (!) and water bottle braze-ons (!!)--and bags, even.
But I once had a track bike that had none of those things. It wasn't even drilled for brakes. (The KHS was.) It had a "flip-flop" hub--for fixed gears on both sides. The bike I'm going to write about was intended as a track machine, pure and simple.
It's a name you've all seen, but in an iteration you haven't seen unless you probably haven't seen unless you've been cycling for a couple of decades.
It's---drumroll--a Bianchi Pista. But not the one that all of the hipsters in Williamsburg were riding around 2005. That, while probably a decent bike, is a Chinese knockoff of the Pista I rode for about five years.
This BIanchi Pista was made in Italy, in the same factory as their other racing bikes. Its tubes were Columbus Cro Mor, which were said to be stiffer than the SL tubes of my Colnago.
Actually, given that and the tight track geometry, the Pista wasn't quite as stiff or harsh as I expected it to be. Mind you, it's not what I'd ride on a hilly century, but I found I could put in an hour or two without feeling that my dental work was going to fall out.
Then again, I very rarely rode it on anything rough. Most of my rides on the Pista were in Prospect Park, only a couple of blocks from where I was living (in Park Slope, Brooklyn) during the time I rode it. For laps starting in Grand Army Plaza, the Pista was great.
But, eventually, I got tired of that and, if I recall correctly, needed some cash for some harebrained venture I came up with. The guy who bought it from me had aspirations of actually becoming a professional racer. (I don't think he did, but that says nothing about the bike, really.) He talked me down a bit in price because he didn't like the color (which, of course, I loved) but still preferred it to "Crest toothpaste green", as he called BIanchi's Celeste finish.
When I first got the Pista, I had my Mondonico--my first purple bike--and, by the time I sold it, I was riding my Land Shark--my first purple-and-green, and my first custom, frame. Also, at the time I bought the Pista, I was just starting to do some fairly serious off-road riding on a Jamis Dakota and, later, my Bontrager Race Lite.
01 March 2014
B.C. (Before Carbon)
In my previous post about my old Land Shark, I
mentioned that John Slawta, who builds and paints all LS bikes, is constructing
his frames only from carbon fiber.
I am sure he’s still doing the great work he’s
always done. However, in the end any
carbon-fiber frame is still plastic.
Yes, it has strands of fiber woven into it, but it’s plastic that holds
them together.
To be fair, those bikes are stronger—and probably
lighter—than earlier plastic bikes. I’m
not talking only about earlier carbon-fiber bikes, such as the Graf-Tek
(Exxon’s only foray into the bicycle industry) during the mid-to-late 1970’s or
the first high-production CF bikes made by Trek and other companies a
quarter-century ago. I am talking about bikes
made only from the resin.
 |
| "The Original Plastic Bike" |
A few years before the Graf-Tek came out, a
company named The Original Plastic Bike claimed to have built a plastic bike that weighed about half of what
racing bikes of the time weighed. It was
offered in primary colors (red, yellow and blue) and black, if I recall
correctly.
I don’t know how many people actually bought or
rode them. Apparently, there was some
sort of scandal surrounding them and investors lost out. Also, as it turned out, some parts, such as
the chain and spokes were made of steel.
Of course, 99.99 percent of bikes ever made have such parts, if at
varying levels of quality. Even the most
technologically advanced of today’s CF bikes will have a steel chain and, most
likely, spokes.
Perhaps the day will come, in my lifetime, when
all frames are made from carbon fiber. I
hope it doesn’t.
Yes, carbon-fiber bikes are light and fast (when
they’re designed well). But I sill have
to wonder how long they’ll hold up. I
recently saw an early Trek CF bike. Its
owner admitted that it had been sitting in a garage for about twenty
years. Perhaps they’re stronger than
anyone realizes. And, certainly, rust
and other kinds of corrosion are not issues, as they are with steel and other
metals. But one still has to wonder how
well they take repeated, prolonged stress.
But the other reason why I hope that we don’t have an all-carbon bike world is that the materials are derived completely from fossil fuels. Perhaps someone will figure out how to make carbon-fiber tubing from other materials, or another material may supplant it altogether. Still, I have always felt good that by cycling instead of driving, I have reduced my “carbon footprint,” however incrementally.
Can you see an ad of the future: “Carbon without the footprint”?
28 February 2014
When I Jumped A "Shark" Named Violette
I have "jumped the shark" many times. Hundreds, in fact, if not thousands.
Of course, I didn't leap over Jaws or even accomplish the feat in the colloquial sense. In fact, I didn't even "jump" my "shark": I mounted it like a proper lady.
All right, I take that back. I mounted it in a way anyone who rides 20,000 km a year--as I was in those days--might. But the ride could certainly be a "jump" sometimes.
My "shark", as you probably have figured, was a bike. And it wasn't just any old bike: It was the best (for me, anyway) racing machine I ever owned or rode.
Back in the '90's, Land Shark bicycles were extremely popular. A few of my ride-mates rode them. You could always tell one from pretty far off: The lugless brazed joints were impeccable and the paint jobs ranged from the sublime to the unique to the bizarre to the hilarious.
As you can see, mine was fairly tame compared to most. It looked like a purple lava lamp with green lava. I saw another 'Shark in a similar pattern, but with different colors. I asked for "something like it" in purple and green.
Most of the components came from the the Mondonico I rode for three years before ordering the 'Shark. But the two bikes were very different. For one thing, the 'Shark was a custom build--my first. The Mondonico was supposed to be a criterium bike, but it almost shared the geometry of my Italian Bianchi Pista (not the Taiwan-made ones all the hipsters were buying a few years ago). Since I was doing a lot of long-distance riding as well as racing, I decided on a more classical road geometery, with seat tube and head angles shallower (73.5 degrees each) than the ones on the Mondonico (74 head, 74.5 seat). Also, I asked for something with a sligtly longer seat tube but a shorter top tube. On my Italian bikes, it seemed that I was always choosing between one or the other: If I got the longer seat tube, I also got the longer top tube, which meant that I rode a stem with a shorter extension and therefore sacrificed handling. On the other hand, getting a bike with a shorter top tube meant a smaller seat tube, which made it harder to stretch my legs out. (A longer seat post just never felt the same to me.)
Also, my 'Shark was built from Reynolds 853 tubing, which was fairly new at the time. This made for a livelier ride than the frames with Columbus tubings, which, on some bikes, could feel stiff to the point of feeling dead (my complaint with the early Cannondale racing bike I had). I could do a "century", or ride even more miles in a day without feeling battered: whatever fatigue I felt was a result of sun, wind, or any other conditions I encountered while riding.
Although I rode the bike for a decade, I made few changes. Of course, I replaced tires and such as needed. But I made only minor deviations from the original Dura Ace/Ultegra combintion.
The first came after two years with the 'Shark, when I started riding Mavic Helium and Cosmic wheels. Heliums were probably the lightest road wheels available (in clincher, anyway) at the time, while the Cosmics had deep V-shaped rims and were stiffer but heavier than the Heliums. About three years later, I sold those two sets of wheels and bought Mavic Ksyriums, which seemed to embody the best of both wheelsets.
I made the second change around the same time I got the Ksyriums: I ordered a carbon-fiber fork--the first and only I ever owned--from Land Shark. It certainly lightened the bike and absorbed some of the shock the straight-bladed steel fork transmitted. The carbon fork came with a threadless steerer column, which meant changing my stem. Fortunately, I was riding a Chris King headset (which I ride on all of my Mercians), so I had to replace only the top part.
What I remember best about the 'Shark's ride is its climbing ability: No other bike I've owned--and hardly any I've ridden-- was as nimble going up a hill. It may have had to do with the oversized down- and top-tube. If that's the case, then the bike's resilience is all the more remarkable: Oversized tubes are stiff, but often deliver a very harsh ride.
So why am I not riding it now?, you ask. Well, a little more than ten years after I took my first ride on the 'Shark--which I named Violette--it was stolen. I thought about getting another, even thought the price of them had gone up considerably. But I realized that my riding habits were changing, in part because of my age (I was nearing 50.) and the fact that my body was full of estrogen instead of testosterone. Plus, by that time, I had ridden Hal Ruzal's Mercians and fell under their spell.
I am sure that John Slawta, Land Shark's builder (and finisher) is doing work that's just as meticulous as what he did on my old bike. But, from what I understand, he stopped building steel bikes several years ago and is working only in carbon fiber. So, in spite of my fond memories of my Land Shark, if I buy another nice bike, it will be a Mercian (as long as they are building in the traditional ways) or from other classic (or classically-inspired) builder of chrome-molybdenum or maganese-molybdenum steel frames.
P.S. During the time I rode the 'Shark, I had several human companions. However, these two remained constant:
Charlie I preceded the "Charlie" whose passing I lamented in a post two years ago. In fact, I adopted Charlie II just three months after Charlie I died.
Candice entered my life when she was three years old, four years after I adopted the two month- old Charlie I.
Of course, I didn't leap over Jaws or even accomplish the feat in the colloquial sense. In fact, I didn't even "jump" my "shark": I mounted it like a proper lady.
All right, I take that back. I mounted it in a way anyone who rides 20,000 km a year--as I was in those days--might. But the ride could certainly be a "jump" sometimes.
My "shark", as you probably have figured, was a bike. And it wasn't just any old bike: It was the best (for me, anyway) racing machine I ever owned or rode.
Back in the '90's, Land Shark bicycles were extremely popular. A few of my ride-mates rode them. You could always tell one from pretty far off: The lugless brazed joints were impeccable and the paint jobs ranged from the sublime to the unique to the bizarre to the hilarious.
As you can see, mine was fairly tame compared to most. It looked like a purple lava lamp with green lava. I saw another 'Shark in a similar pattern, but with different colors. I asked for "something like it" in purple and green.
Most of the components came from the the Mondonico I rode for three years before ordering the 'Shark. But the two bikes were very different. For one thing, the 'Shark was a custom build--my first. The Mondonico was supposed to be a criterium bike, but it almost shared the geometry of my Italian Bianchi Pista (not the Taiwan-made ones all the hipsters were buying a few years ago). Since I was doing a lot of long-distance riding as well as racing, I decided on a more classical road geometery, with seat tube and head angles shallower (73.5 degrees each) than the ones on the Mondonico (74 head, 74.5 seat). Also, I asked for something with a sligtly longer seat tube but a shorter top tube. On my Italian bikes, it seemed that I was always choosing between one or the other: If I got the longer seat tube, I also got the longer top tube, which meant that I rode a stem with a shorter extension and therefore sacrificed handling. On the other hand, getting a bike with a shorter top tube meant a smaller seat tube, which made it harder to stretch my legs out. (A longer seat post just never felt the same to me.)
Also, my 'Shark was built from Reynolds 853 tubing, which was fairly new at the time. This made for a livelier ride than the frames with Columbus tubings, which, on some bikes, could feel stiff to the point of feeling dead (my complaint with the early Cannondale racing bike I had). I could do a "century", or ride even more miles in a day without feeling battered: whatever fatigue I felt was a result of sun, wind, or any other conditions I encountered while riding.
Although I rode the bike for a decade, I made few changes. Of course, I replaced tires and such as needed. But I made only minor deviations from the original Dura Ace/Ultegra combintion.
The first came after two years with the 'Shark, when I started riding Mavic Helium and Cosmic wheels. Heliums were probably the lightest road wheels available (in clincher, anyway) at the time, while the Cosmics had deep V-shaped rims and were stiffer but heavier than the Heliums. About three years later, I sold those two sets of wheels and bought Mavic Ksyriums, which seemed to embody the best of both wheelsets.
I made the second change around the same time I got the Ksyriums: I ordered a carbon-fiber fork--the first and only I ever owned--from Land Shark. It certainly lightened the bike and absorbed some of the shock the straight-bladed steel fork transmitted. The carbon fork came with a threadless steerer column, which meant changing my stem. Fortunately, I was riding a Chris King headset (which I ride on all of my Mercians), so I had to replace only the top part.
What I remember best about the 'Shark's ride is its climbing ability: No other bike I've owned--and hardly any I've ridden-- was as nimble going up a hill. It may have had to do with the oversized down- and top-tube. If that's the case, then the bike's resilience is all the more remarkable: Oversized tubes are stiff, but often deliver a very harsh ride.
So why am I not riding it now?, you ask. Well, a little more than ten years after I took my first ride on the 'Shark--which I named Violette--it was stolen. I thought about getting another, even thought the price of them had gone up considerably. But I realized that my riding habits were changing, in part because of my age (I was nearing 50.) and the fact that my body was full of estrogen instead of testosterone. Plus, by that time, I had ridden Hal Ruzal's Mercians and fell under their spell.
I am sure that John Slawta, Land Shark's builder (and finisher) is doing work that's just as meticulous as what he did on my old bike. But, from what I understand, he stopped building steel bikes several years ago and is working only in carbon fiber. So, in spite of my fond memories of my Land Shark, if I buy another nice bike, it will be a Mercian (as long as they are building in the traditional ways) or from other classic (or classically-inspired) builder of chrome-molybdenum or maganese-molybdenum steel frames.
P.S. During the time I rode the 'Shark, I had several human companions. However, these two remained constant:
 |
| Charlie I: 19 March 1991--16 October 2005; Adopted 25 May 1991 |
Charlie I preceded the "Charlie" whose passing I lamented in a post two years ago. In fact, I adopted Charlie II just three months after Charlie I died.
 |
| Candice: 7 February 1992--17 January 2007; Adopted 5 January 1995. |
Candice entered my life when she was three years old, four years after I adopted the two month- old Charlie I.
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