I’ll Get Used To Them—Or So I’m Told

Dee-Lilah, my new Mercian Vincitore Special, has been, well, a delight. She hasn’t been in my life for very long, but I feel as if I’ve been riding with her forever.

In other words, I haven’t had to adjust to her.  I must say, though, that in designing my bike, I had Arielle, my Mercian Audax and other bikes I’ve ridden to inform my consultations with Hal of Bicycle Habitat and Grant of Mercian Cycles.

On the other hand, Vera, my Mercian Mixte, took some getting used to—but not much. I bought her second-hand, but she fits me well and my experience with other bikes told me it would serve my purpose well.  

Actually, it doesn’t take long for me to adjust to most bikes I try, unless it’s radically different from anything I’ve ridden before. Given how many bikes I’ve ridden and owned, that is not a frequent occurrence.

Electronic devices, however, are another story.  Perhaps it is, as some have suggested, a result of my combination of life experience (a.k.a. age) and lack of experience with cell phones, tablets and the like. Maybe they’re right. I must say, though, that adjusting to my new iPhone and iPad has been a frustrating ordeal—and grows even more so the more  I hear how “intuitive” Apple stuff is supposed to be.

Oh, why did my slide-phone have to start dying on me?  

She's Back. And She's Like I Remember Her, Only Better!

She's ready.



In late June, I sent Vera, my Mercian mixte, back to England for some rejuvenation.  She was riding just fine as she was, but I wanted to fix a couple of things.  One was the seat lug:  I think someone tried to jam a 27.2 seat post in it when the bike really takes a 27.0.  As a result, I had to use a shim to keep the seat post from slipping.

Vera no longer has that problem.  The folks at Mercian replaced the seat lug.  They also took the old cable guides off the down tube and replaced them with bosses that can be used for shift levers--like the ones that are on the bike now--or the cable stops that are used with Ergo/STI shifters, which I would need if I ever change to bar-end shifters.

I also wanted to clean up the bottom bracket, headset and other threads.  Not surprisingly, they did a good job at Mercian--Hal, at Bicycle Habitat, told me everything went together easily.

So why, if I have worked as a bike mechanic, did I let him put the bike together?  Well, he's the one who introduced me to Mercians.  Also, Vera was getting special treatment, so I figured it was only appropriate to give the job to someone who's been working with bikes for far longer than I did.  Plus, he enjoys working on Mercians.


Finally, though, I wanted to allow Vera to be the pretty bike she is.  That's why I had her re-finished.  I liked the old finish (British Racing Green with gold transfers and lug lining) well enough, but I thought Vera should get a chance to kick up her heels.

I decided that I don't want all of my bikes to be the same color, but I want to keep them in a "family", if you will, of colors I like.  As I've mentioned, the Vincitore Special I ordered is going to be painted Lilac Polychromatic (#17) with Deep Plum Pearl (#56) head tube and seat tube panels, topped off with white transfers and lug lining.

Because of the slope of the twin top tubes, it's difficult to put panels on a mixte frame without distorting the proportions of the frame.  At least, that's how I feel.  So, I opted for a single color:  Mauve Pearl (#53), with white transfers and lug linings.

And I simply could not resist the '50's style headbadge.

I was pleasantly surprised to see a seat-tube transfer that matches the headbadge.

  

And, perhaps, one of the more esoteric decals of all:

I knew that Reynolds made "respray" decals, but I hadn't seen many of them.  

You may have noticed something else about Vera's new look.  Hal convinced me not to use metal fenders again:  He believes I broke a couple of pairs of aluminum fenders on this bike because the aluminum is thin and because I "squeezed" them into the frame.  He also convinced me that this bike would look better with black fenders than with shiny (or matte-finished) silver ones.

The SKS/Bluemels fenders Vera now wears have piping on their sides.  They reminded me, somewhat, of the "ribbing" on some of the classic English and French fenders--and the Velo Orange Facettes I had on this bike before the "makeover."

The piping, though, serves a non-decorative function:  They're reflective. 

The bags were made by Ely Rodriguez of RuthWorks.  I will most likely keep the seat bag on the bike, but I may use one of the other bags Ely made for me on the front, where I have a Nitto M12 rack.

This "makeover" didn't change Vera's ride.  Then again, I didn't want it to:  It's nimble and comfortable.  And, yes, stylish:  Isn't style the point of having a twin-tube mixte?

As much as I love Vera, getting her back now makes me even more eager for the Vincitore Special I ordered.  Just five more months, if all goes as planned! 

I Will Tell You More...

Today I am going to explain something.

No, not the conspiracy Great Girl Conspiracy in yesterday's post.  Or quantum mechanics.  Or, for that matter, why the other line moves faster.

Instead, I'm going to talk about something far more mundane--at least, to almost everybody in the world but me.  I am going to tell you, now, about Helene.

Helene

Last week, I stripped her.  And shipped her.  Soon she will be in her new home, with a rider who will, I hope, appreciate her more than I did.

There was nothing wrong with her as a bike.  In fact, I liked her quite a lot.  I just didn't ride her much, at least after the first year or two I had her.  

You see, when I ordered her from Mercian, they had stopped making mixte frames with the twin-lateral "top" tubes because Reynolds--which makes the tubing used to build most Mercian frames--stopped producing those skinny frame members.  So, wanting a ladies' Mercian to go with my other Mercians, I ordered the "traditional" style frame, with a single top tube that slanted downward.

Then, about a year later, I came across Vera--an older Miss Mercian with the twin tubes.  Women's and mixte frames tend not to have very high resale values; even so, Vera's price was less than I expected.  

Vera--a Miss Mercian from 1994

The rest is history, as they say.  Vera became my commuter when I had a longer commute because she has a stable and comfortable, but still responsive, ride.  Also:  Who doesn't like the look of a twin-tube mixte?  If I do say so myself, it is a stylish ride--and, of course, style is one of the reasons I wanted to have a nice mixte (or ladies') bike.

Not that Helene doesn't have style.  But Vera has more of the style, as well as the ride, I want from my mixte.  Helene, in contrast, rides a bit more like a road bike.

Anyway, aside from disuse, there is another reason I stripped and sold Helene:  I've ordered another Mercian.

Why?, you ask.  Well, if you've been reading this blog, you know I'm something of a Mercian aficionado.  I don't believe I can have too many Mercians; I know I can only have enough time to ride but so many of them (or any other bike) and space to keep them.

Still, you may be forgiven for asking why I've ordered another.  Well, the exchange rates have been favorable to the dollar for a while, and I don't know how much longer that will hold.  When I ordered Arielle, my Mercian Audax, during the time I waited for it, the exchange rate had become about 25 percent more favorable to the pound than it was when I placed the order.  So, this time, I've already paid for the cost of the frame.  When the frame is ready, I will only have to pay for shipping and, perhaps, some small additional charges for things I've requested that may or may not be included in the base price.

Now, the money I got for Helene doesn't come close to paying for this new frame.  But I wanted to sell her while she's still very clean:  There's barely a scratch on her.  Also, I am going to use some of her parts on the new frame, along with a few parts from my other bikes, and a few more new parts I've collected.

Mercian's website says there's a 10-month wait for new frames.  I don't even mind that; in fact, I'm rather happy about it.  Why?  Well, next year will be a round-number birthday for me, and that frame will be a gift to myself.

Peter's Vincitore Special

And, given that I've ordered it for such an occasion, I've ordered what seems the most appropriate frame of all:  a Vincitore Special made from Reynolds 853 tubing.  Its design will be very similar to that of Arielle, so it will be a bike that is capable of both comfort and speed on long rides, and can accomodate 700 x 28C tires--as well as fenders and a rear rack, should I decide to add them later.  It will also have a nice, traditional quill stem and downtube shifters.

Arielle, my Mercian Audax

In addition to being a birthday gift to myself, I see the Super Vincitore as the sort of frame that hardly anyone makes anymore.  I am guessing that Mercian will make it as long as they can get the materials and they have framebuilders with the necessary skills and passion.  Still, I figure it's better to order such a frame sooner rather than later.

Now, all I have to do is find ways not to think about it all the time--for the next ten months.  That's, what, March?

Oh, in case you were wondering:  I have chosen Lilac Polychromatic (#17) as the main color.  The seat tube panel and head tube panel will be Deep Plum Pearl (#56).  All of that will be trimmed with white lug pinstriping and Gothic-letter transfers.  And a 1950's-style metal headbadge, if it will fit into the lugwork.  I've even found the handlebar tape--Newbaum's Eggplant--I'm going to wrap around the handlebars.  Finally, the new frame will get a well-aged honey Brooks Professional with copper rails and rivets, as well as one or two of the bags Ely made for me.

Men On Mixtes--And Women's Bikes--In Mosul

I bought Vera, my green Miss Mercian mixte, from a guy who had it built for himself after a hip injury and surgery.  

Now, I know some guys wouldn't be caught dead on a women's or mixte bike.  I was one of them, but not because of my insecurity about my gender identity, ample as that was.  You see, I wanted to ride only "performance-oriented" bikes and believed that mixte and women's frames weren't as stiff or strong as diamond "men's" frames.  The "stiff" part may well be true, but I haven't had much opportunity to compare diamond-framed bike models with their corresponding women's or mixte counterparts.  One reason is that many--particularly high-end--models come only as one or the other.

One difference I can find between the two types of frames in general is that diamond frames are generally more stable than those without a horizontal top tube.  I've especially noticed this when I've tried riding women's or mixte frames with fixed gears.  

Of course, another difference between the two types of frames is that the women's/mixte varieties are easier to mount.  That was, I think, the original rationale for such designs.  Sexism might have been a motive:  Perhaps bike designers and builders believed that we needed easier-to-mount bikes because we're the "fairer" (translation:  "weaker") sex.  Another reason for the designs was, of course, that at one time women almost always wore skirts or dresses, which make it more difficult (especially if the skirt is not flared or falls below the knee) to sling a leg over a top bar.

There are men, though, who ride women's or mixte frames.  I often see them here in New York.  Some of those guys are probably riding a bike they inherited for someone or got very cheaply.  Others, I suspect, are riding them for the same reason men in Mosul are on them.

That reason has only a little bit to do with the fact that women simply don't ride bicycles there.  Even before the Islamic State (ISIS) captured the city nearly three years ago, it wasn't done, though what I've read suggests that women not riding bicycles was more of a custom rather than the reult of an outright prohibition.  

Rather, men say they ride women's bicycles because they're easier to handle in the city's potholed,rubble-strewn streets, especially when cyclists are transporting food, medical supplies and other items.  The shop Mohammed Sabah Yehia recently opened on the east side of town, in fact, stocks and sells nothing but women's bicycles.

Mohammed Sabah Yehia in his East Mosul shop.

The way he entered the velocipedic trade is emblematic of what has turned Mosul, which is bisected by the Tigris River, into a city of bicycles.  He used to sell motorcycles on the city's west (of the river) side, where there was a flourishing bicycle trade, until his shop was destroyed during the ISIS offensive.  Then motorized vehicles were banned because of gas shortages.  

A campaign to take back the city started in October has resulted in the liberation of the east side of the city.  Since then, traffic has returned.  But police have been stopping and confiscating motorcycles because ISIS members have been using them. As a result, many men are weaving their bicycles through the throngs of cars to find stores, pharmacies and other establishments that are open.

On the west side, on the other hand, cyclists ride on traffic-free streets.  But that is not a result of city authorities trying to make their community more "bike friendly". Iraqi and ISIS forces are still fighting, and the former have barred cars--which the latter use as suicide vehicles--and motorcycles. 

Some cyclists from the east side--like Yehia--don't want to venture onto the west side "until it's secure".  They also avoid riding at night, out of fear of remaining militant "sleeper cells".   Still, for the time being, it seems that for all of the hazards, cycling will be the best way to transport people and supplies in Mosul.  And men will be riding women's bikes. 

A New Day, A New Wrap

Yesterday I managed to get in a nice ride along the coasts, from my place to the Rockways and Coney Island, along the Verrazano Narrows and up to Hipster Hook back to my place.

The morning was overcast but the afternoon turned bright and clear, if windy.  So I wasn't surprised to see strollers, dog-walkers and, yes, cyclists along the boardwalks and on the promenade under the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge.

Vera, my green Miss Mercian mixte, went for the ride, in part because I wanted to ride a bike with fenders:  There is still a lot of crud and "ponds" in the streets, courtesy of last week's snow and the rain we have had during much of the time since that storm.   If you have seen Vera in previous posts, you might see another reason why I wanted to take her out today:

Yes, I swapped the handlebars from Velo Orange Porteurs (which are on another of my bikes) for Nitto "Noodle bar".  The latter is my first choice for drop bars.  I wanted to try Vera with drops because she had them when I first acquired her.  Although I have liked her ride with the Porteurs, I have always had a feeling that she was designed for drop bars.

Also, I wanted to try some new handlebar tape:

I used two rolls of Newbaum's tape:  one in burnt orange, the other in khaki.  I chose Newbaum's tape for the colors and because I am curious as to how it might be different from other brands of cloth tape I've used.

I wrapped the bars in khaki, leaving gaps wide enough to be over-wrapped with the burnt orange.  Then, I finished the ends with regular jute twine I found in a Dollar Tree store.

  


After wrapping the bars, I gave them four light coats of clear shellac.  Although this wrap doesn't have the "sheen" I've seen on some other shellacked bars, I like the look:  The clear shellac darkened the colors slightly.  Also, even though it has a "harder" feel than un-shellacked (Is that a word?) tape, the tape retained much of its texture, which makes for a nice grip.  I think the "feel" may have to do with the fact that the Newbaum's tape is a bit thicker than other brands (Velox, Tressostar, Cateye) I've used. 

It will take a few rides, I think, to decide whether I like this kind of handlebar wrap.  I used to like regular, un-shellacked cloth, but it seemed that I had to replace it every season.  Then again, I could say the same for Cinelli (or any other brand of) cork wrap. 

The burnt orange, while not an exact match, is surprisingly close to the color of the Ruth Works rando bag on the front.  The bag has, of course, developed a bit of patina.  I imagine that if I keep on riding with this new tape, it will develop a similar "character" and perhaps be even more similar to the color of the bag.

What Else Have We Here?

I haven't yet begun to work on my estate-sale find.  That probably won't begin until next week.  

Funny, though, how I'm thinking about the details, even though I haven't even started to build the wheels or assemble anything else on the bike.

At first, I thought I would wrap the bars--Velo Orange Porteurs with bar-end brake levers (the same setup I have on Vera and Helene, my Mercian mixtes)--in leather or the Deda faux leather tape, which comes in a shade that more or less mirrors a Brooks honey-colored B17 saddle darkened by  few of thousand miles and a couple of applications of Proofhide. (Yes, that's the saddle I plan to use--unless someone wants to trade me a black or blue one for it.)  I prefer the feel of actual leather, but the Deda is pretty nice and is more durable.  My only complaint about it is that it's full of Deda logos.

But, as I was trolling eBay, I chanced upon this:

Pardon the condition of my nails.  It's finals week!

Tressostar cloth tape.  Eight rolls:  four in blue, four in gray.  (No, this isn't a Civil War re-enactment!)  Best of all, the right shade of blue and the right shade of gray for the Trek:

Like much NOS (new old stock) bicycle equipment found on eBay, they came from a bike shop that closed.  

The seller was offering the tape at $10 for two rolls:  a pretty good price these days.  (Around the time  the world was discovering Bruce Springsteen, I paid $1 for two rolls of the same tape in red!)  He had four rolls of each color remaining and I offered to buy all of them.  He asked for $20.  Yes, for eight rolls.

I am thinking about wrapping the bars "barber pole" or "candy cane" style, using both colors.  I would wrap the entire bar, as I did on my Mercian mixtes, because I occasionally use the forward position.  Also, when bar-end levers are used, the cable sits against the bar, as it does with "aero" road levers.  That means they have to be taped or clamped against the bars.  If nothing else, covering them with whatever bar wrap I use will be more attractive than the electrical tape I use to fasten the cable housing to the bar.

Hmm...Now that I'm going to use cloth tape, maybe I should try something I've never done before...Shellac?

Cycling The Fall On The North Shore

Perhaps the fall is inevitable, which is exactly the reason some people live as if it will never happen to them.

Sometimes I think that is one of the messages of The Great Gatsby.  Though the novel was written, and take place, in the 1920s, a line from Prince is fitting:  party like it's 1999.

I got to thinking about Gatsby and what the fall means today because, while riding, I saw this:

and this:

along the North Shore, from Queens into Long Island and back.  

You know the old riddle:  If a tree falls in the woods and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?  Well, perhaps someone posed a parallel question:  If trees lose their leaves and nobody sees it, will the fall come?

Jay Gatsby, having grown up on a farm and aspired to the high life, probably never looked at a tree once he left the farm.   I doubt any of the other characters in that novel looked at very many trees or gave much thought to the changing of the season, whether in nature or their lives.

But fall comes to their North Shore playgrounds, just as it comes everywhere else.  For me, it made for a lovely, pleasant ride, one in which I didn't mind that I was pedaling into, or getting sideswiped by, brisk winds, or that as I rode along the water, the temperature dropped (or seemed to drop) to levels for which I wasn't dressed.

Today it was Vera's turn to enjoy the season.  She was dressed for the occasion.  Then again, she always looks right for the ride. So do my other Mercians.  

They have no reason to fear the fall. Nor do I.  

Colors That Haven't Changed From My Youth

Yesterday's ride was all about color.  So was today's ride.  At least, my ride ended with them, though the hues I saw were very different from the ones I saw in Connecticut and Westchester County and the Bronx--or even in my neighborhood.

Of course, not every vista on today's trip looked like that.  But it's hard to have a better ending, wouldn't you say?

Certainly, it was a reward for pedaling through the industrial and post-industrial badlands of Essex, Union and Middlesex Counties--and, I guess, for something I did about an hour and a half before I saw the sunset.

A cool wind at my back glided me and Vera, my green Mercian mixte, down Route 36, a two-lane valley of asphalt running along the length of an isthmus about 150 meters wide, with the Atlantic Ocean to my left and the confluence of the Navesink and Shrewsbury Rivers on my right.  As I mentioned in other posts, I pedaled this road many times during my teen years, and during visits to my parents' house after I moved out, and before they moved to Florida. 

Tears rolled down my cheeks.  I couldn't blame them on the wind, or even the chill.  I was thinking a bit about some of those past rides, but I was also very, very happy to be riding a road--and through a community--Superstorm Sandy all but submerged four years ago.  

In spite of the beautiful weather, I saw little motor traffic. Of course, even on unseasonably warm days at this time of year, few people go to the beach.  I did see, however, more than a few cyclists--including a twelve-year-old boy crumpled on the side of the road, his bike lying on its side.

Fortunately for him, I wasn't the first person to see him:  A man and woman who were walking by, and a friend who was riding with him, were standing around, talking to and touching him on his shoulder, neck and arms.  

He'd  been riding on the sidewalk and, from what he said, grazed the side of the curb.  When I chanced upon him, he was clutching the right side of his head, which struck the curb when he fell and rendered him unconscious for a few seconds.

The couple had already called the police.  I told his friend to dial the boy's family, who live just over the bridge that crosses the river from Sea Bright, where we were, into Rumson.  Soon the officers, EMS workers and a fire captain arrived; a few minutes later, the boy's father showed up.

In response to the fire captain's questions, the boy gave his name, address, birthdate, parents' names, and telephone numbers--and correctly identified today's date, the town an state in which we found ourselves.  And he named the current President.  He reported no pain anywhere in his body but his head, from which a lump was starting to throb.

The fire captain, police and EMS workers admonished him to wear a helmet the next time he rides, and his father to buy it for him.  As they left, the father thanked me, even though I didn't do much more than stay with the boy and say some reassuring things to him.

It wasn't exactly heroism on my part, but somehow I felt rewarded for it at the end of the day.  If I indeed was, perhaps what I did, however small it was, could have been some sort of atonement for committing one of the worst sins a cyclist can commit.  At least, I would have regarded it as such back when I had pretensions to racing.

I mean, how could I resist the Polar Bear Ice Cream.  Even Bruce Springsteen couldn't have come up with something more old-school, blue-collar Jersey Shore than that place.

It's not one of those places that will dazzle you with exotic flavors or architectural presentations.  Instead,it offers some of the classic flavors and toppings of hard and soft ice cream, home made. They are offering smoothies and other things that none of us could have dreamed of in my youth.  Still, I went with something basic:  a waffle cone with the vanilla-chocolate swirl. (Think of it as the black-and-white cookie of ice cream.)  It was all that I remembered--except, of course, for the price, which was still modest.

I think the young woman who worked the counter wasn't even born the last time I stopped there before today.

Funny, though, I don't remember one of my early mentors (in cycling) telling me, or anyone else, not to eat ice cream while riding.  I don't remember how I got the fear that consuming anything like that cone, or a sundae, during a ride would shut down my digestive system and, possibly, everything else in my body.  But it certainly wasn't from "Ducky" Schiavo, or his son who now runs this shop:

The Peddler, in its first location a few blocks from its present one, was one of the first shops in the area to sell high-performance bikes.  I bought my Nishiki International and Peugeot PX-10 there.  Now Michael, his son--who bears a striking resemblance to him--carries a combination of the ultra-modern and retro stuff.  I learned a few things about cycling culture, to the degree it existed when the Peddler opened, as well as other bits of history.  Perhaps I'll write another post about that.

For now, I'll leave you with the colors that ended my ride, and day.