An Early Spring Reverie

Yesterday definitely felt like Spring.  The weather was pleasantly cool and the skies almost preternaturally bright. Breezes blew from the ocean, sometimes turning into winds.

It was a great day, in short, for a ride of, oh, about 105 or 110 kilometers.  A trip to Point Lookout and back falls very neatly into that range, depending on whether and how I vary my route.

I didn't see as many people along the Rockaway boardwalks as I expected.  However, a lot of people were roaming around the area, and on the beach, both in the Rockaways and in Long Beach.  And, while I enjoyed a piece of English Blue Stilton cheese and two whole wheat bagels, a few families stopped at Point Lookout to take portraits on the rocks, with the waves in the background.

Well, all right, there weren't any waves. Or, at least, they weren't the kind that lash against the rocks.  I don't think I've ever seen the tide recede as much as it had yesterday.

On other rides, I've seen sandbars form on the north side of the bay.  But yesterday, for the first time, I saw another on the south side.  They almost merged:

Meantime, Vera was soaking up some sun.  She's getting and giving some good rides. Don't worry:  My other Mercians will see the road this soon--actually, this week, I hope.  I was doing some maintenance on them and now I have a few days off for spring break!

And, yes, my project Trek will also see some "duty", too!

There's Nothing Like The First

Whenever I ride my Mercians, I find that I've actually ridden faster than I thought I was riding and, even when riding on rough stretches or climbing into the wind, I don't feel beat-up or worn-down at the end.  This is particulary true of Arielle, my Mercian Audax.

It's a bike meant for longer rides, hence the model name.  With such a purpose in mind, the bike is  designed with a somewhat longer wheelbase and slightly shallower angles than a dedicated racing bike.  On the other hand, its geometry is tighter than that of a full-load touring bike or even many randonneur bikes.   It also has, according to my specification, a shorter top tube than is typically found on touring (and even some racing) frames in Arielle's size (56 cm center-to-center) to accomodate the rather long legs and short torso I have for a person of my height.

When I was ordering Arielle--the first Mercian I bought--I was going to specify 16mm diameter seat stays.  At the time, Mercian was still offering 12mm on some models, including the Audax.  Hal Ruzal at Bicycle Habitat talked me into going with the 12mm, in part because that's what he has on one of his Mercians, which is very similar to Arielle. 

I'm glad he did.  Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear, has 16mm stays.  It feels stiffer, but that may have to do with the geometry of the bike rather than the stay diameter.   Arielle, however, never felt flexy or noodly to me.  Yet those 12mm stays, I believe, absorb more road shock than the thicker stays, which--I'm guessing--is the reason why I never feel "beat up" after riding her.  

I also am glad Hal--and the folks at Mercian--convinced me to buy an Audax rather than one of the other models.  I didn't want a full-on touring bike:  If I ever do another multi-day tour, it will probably be with a light load.  On the other hand, I didn't want another racing-specific bike:  I'd owned and ridden a number of those and felt as if I were past being even a "wannabe", let alone an actual racer.

On this bike, I can ride fast when I want to, but--more important to me at this point in my life--I can simply enjoy the ride.  It has never felt like a "compromise":  It's simply a bike that fits well and feels good. 

Because Arielle fits and rides so well, specifying my next two custom Mercians--Tosca, my fixed-gear and Helene, one of my Miss Mercians--easy.  Tosca's geometry is just a bit tighter; Helene's dimensions were tweaked to allow wider tires and fenders. 

Vera, my other Miss Mercian, is the only one of my Mercians that wasn't custom-built for me:  I bought it second-hand.  So, while its fit is a bit different from that of the others (the imaginary top tube length is 15mm longer than on Arielle or Helene and 10 mm longer than on Tosca, and the chain stays are about 15 mm longer than the ones on Helene), my experience with my other Mercians served as a good guideline in helping me choose the right stem length and such.  Overall, it has the cushiest ride of my "Mercs" and, not surprisingly, Tosca has the stiffest and most responsive. 

All of them feel great, but, as the saying goes, there's nothing like the first.  And mine (at least in terms of my Mercians) is Arielle.

Vera Goes Gran Fondo

You tell yourself, "This is it!"

You're not going to buy another bike, you tell yourself.  The bikes you have are "for life".

No more changes, no more upgrades, you say.  You're not going to buy another part unless you absolutely have to replace something that's worn out or broken.  You won't buy another bike accessory, no matter how great it looks or whether you really wonder how you've lived without it. And you absolutely swear not to go to any more swap meets, spend any more time hanging out in bike shops or while away your evenings looking at bikes and parts on eBay.

And you promise yourself you won't lift another allen key or screwdriver, or squeeze your oil can or grease gun, unless you're doing maintenance that absolutely must be done to keep your bike rolling.

But you know, deep down, you're lying to yourself: Once you learn how to tinker with your bikes, you won't stop--no matter how little mechanical aptitude you thought you had before you picked up that first repair manual, that first edition of Anybody's Bike Book.

You always find something to fix, even if it doesn't need fixing.  And there's always some experiment you want to try.

So it is with Vera.  Just before I went to Paris, I had an idea:   I'd turn  her gearing from a typical "compact" road setup (well, with slightly lower gears) to something I'd never before tried:  Gran Fondo gearing.

Turns out, I had everything I needed for the experiment. Well, almost.  The crankset that originally came with Vera--a Shimano Deore triple from the late '80's or early '90's--was sitting in a box, just begging to be reunited with her.  A BBG 46 tooth chainguard/bashguard, also sitting in that same box, would look good on that crank--and on Vera--I thought.   And I had a nice Stronglight 46 tooth chainring I'd been using with my the compact double as well a Shimano UN-52 bottom bracket that, according to the folks at Harris Cyclery and Velo Orange, would work. All I'd need is a 30T chainring with a 74mm bolt circle, which I found easily enough.

I installed the chainguard in place of the outer chainring.  The Stronglight ring, made to be an outer ring for a double or triple, went on the middle position.  And, of course, the 30T ring was bolted on the inside.  

I installed the Stronglight chainring with the logos facing out, as if it were in the outer position.  That meant the chainring fixing nuts wouldn't sit flush with the surface of the ring, as the holes for the chainring bolts are countersunk on the opposite side of the ring.  That didn't seem to matter.  I've ridden the setup about 200 kilometers and it doesn't seem to be coming loose--and the nuts standing proud of the chainring surface doesn't seem to affect the shifting.

In this image, you can see the countersinking of the holes for the chainring fixing nuts.  You can also see a segment of an example of drillium at its best or most extreme, depending on your point of view!

Speaking of which:  I've shifted, well, only to see how it shifts.  I haven't ridden on the 30T ring.  But part of my intention in setting up the gears as I did--and, by the way, I set up the gears on Arielle, my Mercian Audax and Helene, my other Miss Mercian--was to spend most of my riding time on the larger ring and to use the smaller one as a "bail out" gear.

In any event, the shifting was even smoother than I expected it to be.  The Shimano 105 front derailleur from the 8-speed group is made to handle, as most modern road front derailleurs are, a 14-tooth difference between the chainrings.  Part of the reason why I haven't had problems with shifting is, I believe, that I'm using a non-indexed downtube shifter.  I wonder how (or whether) the setup would work if I were using Ergo or STI levers, or even bar-end shifters.

The bottom bracket's axle is 127 mm long.  The crank is actually made for the old-style asymmetrical axle:  The original bottom bracket is what's known as "121+5":  In other words, 5 mm are added to the right side of a 121mm axle.  Using the modern bottom bracket doesn't seem to affect shifting or my pedal position"  It just leaves more axle showing on the left side than what you see with modern cranks and bottom brackets.  However, if I keep this setup, I might splurge (if finances permit) for a Phil Wood bottom bracket with the asymmetrical axle.

In reality, riding with this setup isn't different from riding with the compact double, as I am using the 46T ring nearly all of the time.  But I think that it will allow me a greater range of gears, should I ever want or need them.

Vera seems to like it.  Truth be told, I think she likes getting the nice old crankset back.

A Path Of Learning

 No, it’s not rust:

and it’s not a “fade” paint job

(although, if I do say so myself, it goes rather nicely with the toestraps, saddle and straps and trim on the bags)

and it’s not an attempt to out-hipster the hipsters 

That reddish-brown “mist” you see is dirt.  Not sooty, dirty city dirt.  No, it comes from soil:

Specifically, it’s the residue of a trail—one I hadn’t ridden in more than thirty years.

When I was a Rutgers student, I used to pedal along the Delaware and Raritan Canal towpath.  Connecting the two rivers in its name, it opened in 1834.

The trail wasn’t, of course, wasn’t used for cycling, running or hiking in those days.  If someone had the leisure time for such things, he or she wasn’t doing them:  Aerobic fitness wasn’t, shall we say, terribly fashionable among the gentry.  And anyone who worked along the canal, or in the industries that sent barges down its waters, didn’t have the time or energy for such things at the end of the day.

In fact, people didn’t use the path.  Rather, horses and mules trod it when they pulled the barges and boats that carried coal from Pennsylvania to New York City.

Believe it or not, there were actually industries, including manufacturing and bottling, along the canal’s shores.  They have long ceased operations, as the canal itself did in 1932, forty years after it last turned a profit.

Today the only watercraft one sees are canoes and kayaks, which can be rented at several points along the way.  On the path itself, people walk dogs and themselves—and pedal bicycles.

Before yesterday, I hadn’t ridden the towpath in more than thirty years.  When I was riding it fairly regularly, I barreled along on ten-speeds that are now considered “retro” or “classic”.  Sometimes I’d ride my racing bike on the road—one lane in each direction, no shoulder-- that skirted the canal’s shore.

The towpath and its surroundings don’t seem to have changed much since then.  The only difference I could see between yesterday and those long-ago rides (when I was a Rutgers student) were the canoes and kayaks, and the stations that rented them.  Back in the day, most people in the area hadn’t heard of kayaks and anyone who paddled a canoe was plying his (just about all were male) craft elsewhere.

All right, I noticed a couple of differences.  Somehow it seemed more even more relaxing—in a Zen sort of way—than I remembered it.  Perhaps that has as much to do with me, if I do say so myself, as it does with the path. 

Also, I think I saw more cyclists on the towpath than I saw in all of the rides I did along it back in the day.  They were all riding mountain bikes:  a genre of velocipedes unknown outside of northern California, northern New England and parts of Colorado when I was living and studying “on the banks of the ol’ Raritan”. 

I had to get off my bike and tiptoe over this part, just like I did back in the day.  Everyone else—even those who rode extra-wide tire as well as full-suspension—did the same.  They also hopped and skipped across a couple of other stretches, where stone slopes were constructed to conduct water between the canal and the river. 

Riding the towpath wasn’t part of my original plan, if I had any.  I rode to Liberty Tower, took the PATH train to Newark and started pedaling as soon as I emerged from that city’s Penn Station.  I headed south and west, more or less on the route I took to Somerville on past rides.  I wasn’t thinking about Somerville, but in Cranford (about twenty kilometers from Newark), the sun opened its face and the breeze whispered as thin clouds stuttered across the sky:

How can anyone not ride in such conditions?  So I kept going and I found myself floating on the bow of a ship from which I heard a the call to ride and ride some more:

As I pedaled up the inclines and down the slopes, I though of boats raised and lowered in locks.  Maybe that’s the reason I rode toward the canal.

Whatever I exerted in pedaling along the towpath and  on it, It was more effortless, I’m sure, than any voyage taken by those barges and boats that plied the canal—or the steps taken by the animals that towed them, or the men who raised and lowered the barges and boats. 

One reason is that Vera—my twenty one-year-old Miss Mercian—seemed to just glide over everything.  I mentioned the part where everyone had to dismount.  Well, on two other stretches, cyclists on mountain bikes dismounted—and I didn’t.  Vera—shod with 700X32 Continental Gator Skin tires—stood her ground, skipped or glided, as necessary, over red dirt, gravel and cobblestones.  In fact, she seemed even more comfortable—even happy—on this trail than in or on any other place or surface on which I’d ridden her. Perhaps I’ve found her true niche.

As for me:  I was able to experience a ride from my youth without any of the anger, frustration or sorrow (much of it for myself) I carried in my youth.  Even with two bags—and, lets say, the weight and hormones my body didn’t have in my youth, the ride seemed even more effortless than it did when I was in better physical condition.

On my way back, a dog crossed into my path.  Back in the days, I would have cursed the dog—and the woman who walked her.  But I stopped and stroked the dog, who licked my hand.  The woman apologized.  “It’s OK,” I demurred. 

 

A man—her husband, I presume--followed with another dog. He echoed her apology;  I repeated my deflection of it.  He stretched out his hand.  “Can I offer these as penance?”

He had just picked the blackberries.  I don’t remember anything that tasted so good.

I'm Back: Say Hello To Vera

The semester has begun and, as you probably can imagine, I've been busy.  To those of you who expressed concern for my safety:  Thank you.  I was hardly affected at all by Hurricane/Tropical Storm Irene, save for the fact that I had to stay indoors and miss a few days of cycling.  

Vera

But, as you've seen from my last couple of posts, I've begun to commute on Miss Mercian II--who will henceforth be known as Vera.  I could get all literary and scholarly on you and say that I named her after some character in a Restoration play, or some such thing.  Truth is, I decided on the name after listening to Pink Floyd's "The Wall."  You know the song I'm referring to. 


I'll write about her ride after I spend some more time on her saddle.  Her wheels and tires, as well as much of her other componentry, are heavier than those on Helene, my other Miss Mercian mixte.  Plus, the geometry is a bit different.  Finally, I'm still tweaking a few things on Vera.


Speaking of which:  I'm going to install a set of centerpulls on Helene.  I've always felt that they were better for bikes with long clearances.  They fit better around fenders, for one thing.  Plus, on bikes with long reaches (more than about 60 mm), traditional sidepulls feel mushy, while dual-pivot brakes (like the Tektro 556s Helene now has) seem to have an "all or nothing" feel to them.  It may well have something to do with the levers (the Tektro inverse levers that are styled like the old Mafac bar-end levers)  I'm using with them.  They seem more suited for a centerpull or cantilever brake.  


On the front centerpull,  I'm going to install one of those little TA-style front racks (made by Dia Compe and purchased from Velo Orange).  I could use a small basket or rack bag--or, of course a handlebar bag.  Perhaps I could also strap my purse or handbag to it.


There is a "casualty" in all of this.  Yes, you guessed it:  Marianela.  She went to a good home this week.  A woman who's my height and whose legs are the same length as mine is going to ride it to graduate school, which she is starting this week.  I realized that if I had simply given away or donated Marianela, she could have ended up with someone who was too short for her, or simply wouldn't have appreciated her.  By the same token, I didn't expect to get much money by selling her, and I didn't.  I asked for a low price in my Craig's List ad, and after the woman and I talked, I lowered that price and threw in a few "extras." 


I sold the bike with the Gyes Parkside saddle.  I wasn't going to part with the Brooks saddles on my Mercians, all of which are somewhat to significantly narrower than the Gyes.  And I had only one other saddle:  some cheap, hard and narrow no-name nylon thing with thin padding, which I know Marianela's new owner wouldn't have liked.  


I felt good about the transaction:  Marianela and her new rider are right for each other, I think.  And I think Vera will make my commutes more fun.

A First And Last Ride

I'm going to commit an act of defiance:  I'm not going to tell you how I braved driving horizontal rain and vertical tides dropping from the New York Bay into my apartment.  That won't be too hard to do, for those things didn't happen.  In fact, I, like everyone else in my neighborhood, got off rather easily from what was supposed to be The End of Civilization As We Know It, a.k.a. Hurricane/Tropical Storm Irene.


Of course, I didn't go outside in the wind-whipped torrents. Only a fool (me in my youth, perhaps) would have done such a thing.  

Ironically enough, the other day, Friday, was about as beautiful as a day could be.  I took my first commute of the new academic year--and my first commute on the Miss Mercian I bought last month.


And, yes, I got to ride off into the sunset.  I guess it was somehow appropriate for the evening before what was supposed to be The Storm Of The Millenium.

Pondering Marianela's Fate

I'm still debating what to do with Marianela.  I don't think selling her will bring enough money to make it worthwhile.  I suppose I still could donate her, which might be a halfway noble thing to do.  


But even that doesn't seem feasible, in a way. When I donated the Bridgestone Mountain Bike, at least it was a bike that its intended recipient--an immigrant who's working in construction, landscaping, restaurants or wherever else they need cheap labor--would be happy to get.  It's in a fairly common size, albeit a little bigger than the mountain bikes I used to ride.  And, not having suspension but having good, basic components, it makes a a good transport bike and is not overly complicated or esoteric.

However, mixte frames of any quality are hard to come by in Marianela's size.  My two Mercian mixtes are both custom frames--one (Helene) built for me and the other (Miss Mercian II) built for Pete, from whom I bought it.  Just as most clothing manufacturers still seem to think that women don't need inseams of more than 30 inches, bike makers seem to think either that there aren't any women over 5'6" or that those of us who are taller are just men with a couple of different parts.


So, the fact that it's a tall mixte is almost, by itself, reason to keep Marianela, even if Miss Mercian II becomes my commuter.  I could keep Marianela locked up outside, so the limited space in my apartment wouldn't be an issue.  And, as I mentioned earlier, I think that there will still be times when she'll come in handy.

If I keep her, though, I might get a pair of plastic fenders to replace the ones I took from her.  They wouldn't be as pretty as the fenders (Velo Orange Zeppelins) I had on the bike, but they might be more practical for a bike that's going to be parked on the streets and not well cared-for.  


I would definitely need to replace the seat, though.  Right now, she has the one that came with Miss Mercian II.  That seat is one I wouldn't ride in any case, and it's entirely unsuited for upright bars.  I suppose I could buy a Brooks B-67 or something similar for MMII and return the Gyes to Marianela.  But the Gyes is pretty well broken-in and I don't want to take the time to break in another saddle.  Besides, something cheap, and possibly made of synthetic materials, just might make more sense on a bike I'm going to leave on the streets.  

Progress Report: Miss Mercian II

Marianela feels exposed these days.  Well, she should see Miss Mercian II:  She’s barefoot.  Or tireless, anyway.  Wait, is that the right word?  Well, you get the idea:

She may not have shoes, I mean tires, yet.  But she’s got some nice accessories, like the fenders:

And you remember the Gyes Parkside with my DYI Carradice bag quick-release?  Well, I think MM II is going to wear her well:

Especially since she has gloves, I mean grips, that match, more or less:

The shifter is a Sun Tour micro-ratchet model.  It’s one of a pair, but I’m only using the front.  That’s because MM II is going to have only one chainring on the front:

Amazing, isn’t it, what you can find if you hit a bike shop at the right time.  That’s how I got the Origin 8 chainring, which is really the Rocket ring.  And the chainguard is from BBG in Oregon.

I cleaned the cranks (They came with the bike.) and the logos just happened to come off. ;-)  They were a bit tarnished, so I rubbed them with some fine steel wool. I followed that with a couple of dabs of Simichrome polish, and, after buffing the cranks, I wiped everything down with some Never-Dull pads. 

The cranks, by the way, are Shimano Deore FC-MT 60.  About 20 years ago, higher-end mountain bikes were equipped with them.  They are like a triple version of the Sugino Alpina, which means that they would make nice touring cranks.  But they came with those infernal Bio-Pace chainrings.  The ones that came with these cranks were pretty worn, which gave me a good excuse to get rid of them.

About the accessories:  The cage is from King—not the same one who makes the headsets.  This King makes these cages from stainless steel in Colorado. 

And the rack, which came with the bike, was made by a classic British manufacturer:  Tonard.  If you look at some of those old English club bikes, the racks and bag supports might have been made by Tonard.  I don’t know whether they’re still in business, but it seems like they made some good stuff, on par, quality-wise,  with similar Carradice, Karrimor and Chossy products

And, because I’m so self-indulgent, I’m going to leave you with a couple more shots of the lugwork and tubes.