To Their Own Hues, And Others

Earlier today, I wrote a post about something people might not associate with Spring:  a survivor pedaling among the wreckage of Mariupol.

To me, this season is about the living beings who make it through winter--whether it's a season of cold, snow and darkness or the death and destruction of war (another kind of darkness) as well as the new life that rises, whether from the ashes or a well-tended garden.

Because I've encountered the latter on afternoon rides, I am more fortunate than the cyclist in my earlier post.  It's funny, though, how Dee-Lilah (my custom Mercian Vincitore Special), Vera (my Miss Mercian), La-Vande (my custom King of Mercia) and Tosca (my Mercian fixie) always seem to find reflections of themselves.

Or, at least they, in their differing shades of purple, are drawn like moths to the flame of color.

Even if it isn't their own.

 

A Turn: A Curtain Lifts

Why do I take the same rides again and again?

Sometimes I just want to ride on "autopilot":  I don't want to think about navigating.  Or, conversely, I might want to lose myself in the rhythm of pedaling and navigating, especially if I'm weaving through traffic.

But, oddly enough, sometimes I'll ride a route I've pedaled dozens or even hundreds of times before because I somehow know that within the familiarity, I'll see something new:  a turn might reveal a new view of something I've seen for years.

That is what happened the other day, late in the afternoon.  I took Tosca, my Mercian fixie, for a spin along the Flushing Bay Promenade, which starts by LaGuardia Airport and passes the World's Fair Marina and Citi Field on its way to Flushing.

On my way back, I saw a Midtown Manhattan sunset through a scrim of winter branches:

A second or two, a few pedal strokes and a left turn later, the curtain lifted, so to speak:

There is always a show, a spectacle, even on the most quotidian ride.  Maybe that's what's kept me on my bike for all of these years!

  

Bet You Can't Ride Just One

Do you actually ride all of those bikes?

You've probably heard that question from the non-cyclists in your life.  I try to explain that even though each of my rides might look similar, they actually offer different kinds of rides, based on their geometry, frame material and components (especially wheels and tires).  

So, my answer is, yes--though, if I'm feeling a bit snarky, I might add, "but not at the same time.  I'm working on that."

Well, last weekend I did manage to ride three of my bikes in three days.  On Friday afternoon, I took Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear, for a spin along the waterfronts of Queens and Brooklyn.

Saturday was the sort of gloriously sunny and brisk early fall-day that riding dreams are made of.  What better day to ride to Connecticut--on Dee-Lilah, my delightful Mercian Vincitore Special.

I'll say more about her accessories--the bags--in another post.   For now, I'll just say that I like them a lot, and while they're not the easiest to acquire, they're worth waiting for.  

And yesterday I took another ride along the waterfronts, mainly because I didn't want to turn it into an all-day (or even all-morning or all-afternoon) ride, as I'd promised to spend some time with someone who can't ride--and some quality time to Marlee.  I didn't take any photos of the bike I rode--Negrosa, my vintage Mercian Olympic, but she's pretty much how you remember her if you've seen her in some earlier posts.

So, while I didn't ride all of my bikes, I think I varied my rides enough to feel justified in having, well, more than one bike!

Different Rides, Different Folks

 There are some things non-cyclists just don’t believe, or understand.

About the former:  my neighbor and new riding partner, Lillian, has a friend named Beverly who can’t ride. Her husband—whom I knew slightly before I met Beverly—is a gruff blue-collar Queens guy who reminds me a bit of Frank Barone of “Everybody Loves Raymond.” He’s seen me on a bicycle, and knows I ride, but simply does not believe it’s possible to pedal to Connecticut.  Mind you, he doesn’t believe that I, personally, can traverse distances: He simply doesn’t think it can be done.

Well, I rode to Connecticut on Saturday,—after trekking to Point Lookout on Friday and spending Thursday pedaling to Freeport and up to the North Shore.  Moreover, I did each ride on  different bike: 

 Dee-Lilah, my prize Mercian Vincitore Special to Connecticut

Negrosa, my vintage Mercian Olympic, to Freeport and the North Shore, and

a bike I’ll mention later to Point Lookout.

Oh, and I took a spin to Bayside on Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear, yesterday morning.

All of that brings me to the second point of this post.  I did four rides on four different bikes.  Most non-cyclists can’t understand having more than one bike.  

Daring Elsa

Yesterday wasn't quite as hot as Wednesday was, but the humidity was even more oppressive.  That's one reason why I took another morning ride which, I hoped, would bring me home before the early afternoon heat.

That part of my "mission," if you will was accomplished, even though I continued in one direction when another would have taken me home for, oh, a couple of hours.  

The weather forecast was dire:  Tropical Storm Elsa was bearing up the East Coast of the United States.  Sometimes I "play chicken" with the rain:  I ride as if I'm daring the rain to start falling on me before I finish my trip.  Yesterday, the stakes were higher:  The rain would cascade from those heavy gray clouds moving across Staten Island and New Jersey on their way to Brooklyn and Queens.  

Those clouds might have moved even faster than the traffic across the Verrazano Narrows:  They don't have to pay the toll on the bridge!

Seriously, though, I reverted to a youthful delusion:  That I could actually hold bad weather at bay becasue, well, I was pedaling.  Even when the sky and the waters of New York Bay all but matched the steel and glass hues of the Manhattan skyline, I was not ready to turn around.  After all, the brownstones and blue-collar brick row houses of Sunset Park hadn't been consumed by the the gray colussus.

On 31st Drive, one block from my Astoria apartment, rain began to fall.  It cascaded into a torrent just as I wheeled Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear, into the door. 

Purple Reign?

Today I took Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear bike, for a spin.

By some strange coincidence, she took me by this garden:

And I was wearing a purple top.  Is she more of a fashionista than I realized? Or am I more of a fashionista than I was willing to admit?

I Christen Thee Negrosa

Finally!  She's together!

No, that's not what someone said about me after I figured it all out.  (As if I ever did!)  I'm talking about...another bike.  I mean, what else could I be talking about on this blog, right?

Specifically, I'm referring to the 1973 Mercian Olympic (I mistakenly identified it earlier as a King of Mercia; Grant at Mercian confirmed that it's an Olympic) I bought in June.  The funny thing is that I didn't have to do much to it, but it took me longer to finish than it took to get Dee-Lilah, my new Mercian Vincitore Special, ready after the frame arrived.

In the case of Dee-Lilah,  I had all of the parts, and Eli (of Ruth SF Works) made a couple of bags for me and once Hal put it all together, it was ready to go.  I haven't found any need to adjust or change anything yet.

On the other hand, for the Olympic, I had to look for a couple of things, and make a couple of other choices. 

Right from the beginning, I replaced the tires, which were cheap and mismatched, with a pair of Continental Grand Prix 4 Seasons.  I also swapped out the SunTour freewheel for another SunTour--the ProCompe  that came with the bike (and is now on another) for a New Winner--and the unknown-brand chain for a Sedisport that'd been in its package for 30+ years. 

Old Cinelli logo.

After a couple of rides, I knew I wanted to change the stem from the 9 mm extension that came with it to a 10.  The stem and bars that came with the bike were Cinellis, in the old 26.4mm clamp diameter.  I like the bars, so I didn't want to buy new ones.  That meant looking for a stem in the proper diameter.  I also wanted to find one that had the old-style oval logo, like the one that came with the bike, but had no luck there.  Oh, well.  Cinelli has never produced an ugly logo, so I don't mind having the newer one.  Besides, the logo switch seems to have been made not long after the frame was built.

Now, stems before the 1990s didn't have "faceplate" clamps.  So, if you want to switch stems, you have to unwrap the bar tape.  I didn't mind, as the tape that came with the bike was a mess:  It was faded and felt as if it had been epoxied onto the bars.  And the rubber hoods were disintegrating on the brake levers.

Luckily for me, I managed to find a pair of original-style Campagnolo gum hoods for not much more than they cost 40 years ago.  Best of all, they were fresh and supple.  As for the tape, I decided to go with something basic but classy:  black Tressostar cloth tape.  I spiced it up a bit, though, with red bar plugs.

To match those plugs--and the red parts of the frame--I found some vintage red Christophe straps.  And the one truly unsightly part of the bike as I got it--apart from the brake hoods and tape--were the toe clips, which were rusted and pitted even though nothing else on the bike was.  They were from "Cycle Pro", which offered some decent stuff back in the day.  But, since we're talking about a vintage Mercian with Campagnolo parts, I thought only Christophe clips would do.  And they're what I put on those Campy pedals.

Now, of course, we all know that we really make our bikes our own with accessories.  I could have sworn I had a Silca frame pump somewhere--but I couldn't find it for the life of me.  Oh, well.  Hal had one, but it looked like hell.  He made a suggestion:  a Zefal HP or HPX.  I just happened to have one in the latter, in just the right size.  And, while it's probably from the 80s or even later, it looks good, if not period-perfect, on the frame.

And, yes, that's a real, live Specialites TA cage on the handlebars.  Like the brake hoods, it was in pristine condition before I mounted it.  I found, though, that I needed to use longer screws than the ones that came with the clamp.  I have a feeling they were designed for old French handlebars, which are narrower at the "sleeve" area than my Cinellis.

Yes, the bike came with that saddle!

The bag is from Acorn.  I have another, larger, black bag that Eli made.  

Even with those minor changes, I still can't believe my luck in finding that bike--with a Brooks Professional saddle in perfect condition, no less.  And so soon after getting Dee-Lilah:  It was like getting two birthday presents!

After accessorizing, there's one more thing you (or I, anyway) have to do in order to make your (my) bike your (my) own: name it.  So, after putting that bottle cage on the handlebars, I christened her Negrosa. 

Now I really have decisions to make whenever I go out for a ride:  Dee-Lilah, Negrosa, Tosca (my Mercian fixed-gear), Arielle (my Mercian Audax) or Vera (my Mercian mixte).  

Tosca's Face Lift

This season has been quite a coming-out party--for me and my bikes.

A few posts ago, I introduced you to Dee-Lilah, my new Mercian Vincitore Special.  She's a gift to myself for a round-number birthday that's coming in July.  

The other day, I told you about my first ride with my new-old (well, not-really-so-old) bike:  Tosca, my Mercian fixie.  A while back, I sent her for a repair and to change the threadless steerer to a threaded one so I could use a prettier stem. All of that, of course, meant, Tosca got a facelift--a refinish.



Previously, she was coated entirely with Mercian's "flip-flop" finish (#57)--which Arielle, my Mercian Audax, still has---and white pinstriping.  I wasn't tired of it, but I decided that while I wanted to keep all of my Mercians in the same color "family", I didn't want them to look the same.

So I had Tosca re-finished in Mercian's Purple Polychromatic (#9) with head tube and seat panel in Dusky Pink Pearl (#49).  The cut-outs in the lugs and fork crown are also finished in that dusky pink hue, and the lugs are outlined in white.

Most of the parts were on the bike before the re-paint.  The exceptions are the stem, brakes, saddle, toe clips and chain (which I would have replaced at some point anyway).  Here's the "spec sheet":

Frame and fork--Reynolds 631.  Threaded steerer.

--Steering:

• Chris King headet:  This threadless set was overhauled by Mercian and was converted with King's threaded 2Nut adapter.
• Nitto Pearl Stem, 12 cm.
• Nitto Model 177 "Noodle" handlebars

--Seating:

• Brooks Team Professional Special Edition (L'eroica 2015)
• Nitto "Crystal Fellow" Seat post

--Wheels:

• Phil Wood hubs.  "Flip-flop" (fixed-free) 36 hole rear, high-flange track 32 hole front
• Mavic Open Pro rims, Velox rim tape
• DT Champion spokes
• Continental Grand Prix 4 season tires

--Drivetrain:

• Sugino RD 2 cranks (130mm BCD), 170mm, with All-City 47T chainring (1/8")
• Phil Wood bottom bracket, 103mm
• MKS Urban Platform pedals w/MKS "basket" toe clips and Velo Orange Grand Cru straps
• Phil Wood stainless cog, 17T, 1/8"
• Shimano freewheel, 18T
• SRAM PC-7X chain 

--Brakes:

• Dia Compe BRS 101 in gold (I couldn't resist) w/ Kool Stop salmon pads
• Cane Creek SCR-5 levers

--Other Items:

• Newbaum's Cloth tape, Eggplant, w/Rustines (like Velox) plugs
• Andrew King "Iris" stainless steel cages

(The bag is one of several I use that were made by Ely Rodriguez, of Ruth Works.  I move them around among my bikes, as I need them.)

Welcome back, Tosca!

Introductions At The Beginning of A Season

When I first learned about Western Civilization (yes, with a capital C and capital W!*), I was taught about a period called the Dark Ages, which was in turn followed by the High Middle Ages and the Renaissance.  Everyone seemed to agree that the Dark Ages began when the Roman Empire fell (in the 5th Century C.E.) and ended more or less with the millenium, but there was more debate about the High Middle Ages and the Renaissance.

Anyway, I grew up with an image of the Dark Ages as a defoliated, barren landscape broken up by patches of mud and huts from wattles made.  And in the late part of the Middle Ages, the brightening but still austere light of winter-turning-into-spring made the landscape all the more stark.

Years later, when I would first read The Canterbury Tales, I somehow pictured Chaucer writing in such an environment, just as the first buds of irises and crocuses and lilacs were peeking out of sinewy vines and weary earth.  

That landscape of my imagination came to life, more or less, on Saturday, when I went for a ride with Bill and his friend Cindy.  Not that the landscape was a bad thing:  When I ride, it's all good.  And they were fun to ride with.

Our spin took us, ultimately, to the ocean.  Along the way, just after we crossed over the Belt Parkway between the Queens neighborhoods of Ozone Park and Howard Beach, we encountered this entirely appropriate (for the season, but unlikely for the location) sign of the season:

I've ridden horses only a couple of times in my life. I would ride one again.  Even if I don't, though, I'm glad to see them--although I'm sure they'd rather not be fenced in.  Everything about them--their beauty, their movements and the aura they have--reminds me of what I love about cycling.  In fact, they embody, they are, the freedom I feel when I'm in the saddle, with two pedals at my feet and two wheels between me and the street (or ground).

They can skip with the wind.  We can glide with it.  They gallop over reeds and fields.  We pedal by them.  And we and they can trod or slosh through mud--or not.  Our reasons, of course, are different.  We didn't ride through this mud because, well, it wasn't all mud:

It was odd to see such a vista just within the limits of New York City, just before the Atlantic Beach Bridge.  Even when it's full of water, when the tide comes in, it seems almost out of place.  But exposed or submerged, wet or dry, with the tide in or out, it was exactly right for a day like Saturday.



Anyway, these very-early-spring days full of sun and wind--especially when they include rides to the sea--always seem like beginnings.  So, perhaps, it's appropriate that I was riding with a new friend in Bill and I may have made another in Cindy.

And, like the ride I took two weeks ago, I introduced a new bike.  Well, all right, Dee-Lilah, my Mercian Vincitore Special, is indeed a brand-new bike.  But on Saturday, I rode another Mercian that looks brand-new.  

I am talking about Tosca, my fixed-gear bike.  A while back, I sent her to Mercian for repairs and refinishing.  She finally got to see the light of an American day again.

She may have a new look. But she rides like an old friend, only better!  I'll write more about her soon.

N.B.  All of the photos in this post--except for the one of me and Bill--were taken by Bill.  That photo came from Cindy.

All About Dee-Lilah

I'm waiting for the snow and ice to clear so I can take Dee-Lilah, my new Mercian Vincitore Special, out for another ride.  I'd also like the chance to take newly-painted Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear out for a spin.

Meantime, though, I'll tell you a bit about Dee-Lilah.

She's made of Reynolds 853 tubing.  The geometry is just slightly different from that of Arielle, my Mercian Audax.  Both frames have 55.5 cm seat tubes and 53.5 cm top tubes.  But while Arielle has a very traditional sport-touring design of parallel 73 degree angles at the head and seat tubes, Dee-Lilah has a slightly steeper seat angle, at 74 degrees, and a slightly shallower head tube angle of 72.  This allows for the response I like in the rear combined with a bit more comfort in front. Also, it will make for better handling when I start using a bag on the front rack. 

If Arielle felt like a magic carpet, Dee-Lilah feels like a cloud with jet propulsion. I know, I've only ridden Dee-Lilah twice for a total of just under 100 miles.  But I definitely feel differences, however subtle, between her and my other Mercians.  And they are subtle differences I wanted when I ordered the frame.

Anyway, here is how Dee-Lilah is kitted out:

Wheels:  

• Phil Wood hubs, 36 hole rear, 32 hole front
• Mavic Open Pro Rims, Velox rim tape
• DT Competition Spokes, 14/15 ga.
• Continental Grand Prix 4 Season tires, 700X28

Drivetrain:  

•   Sugino Alpina Cranks, 110 BCD, 170mm length
•  Specialties TA Syrius chaninrings, 48/36
•  Phil Wood square-axle bottom bracket, 108 mm
•  SRAM PC-991 chain
•  Shimano Ultegra 9 speed cassette, 12-25
•  Shimano Dura-Ace rear derailleur, w/sealed pulleys
•  Shimano Dura-Ace front derailleur
•  Shimano Dura-Ace downtube shift levers
•  MKS Urban Platform pedals w/MKS "basket" toe clips and Velo Orange Grand Cru straps

Steering:

• Nitto Mod. 177 "Noodle" handlebars, 42 cm 
• Nitto NP (Pearl) stem, 11 cm
• Chris King 2Nut headset

Braking:

• Shimano R650 brakes w/Mathauser-Kool Stop salmon pads
• Cane Creek SCR-5 levers

Seating:

• Brooks Team Professional, Maroon (cordovan/oxblood)
• Nitto 65 ("Crystal Fellow") seat post, 27.2

Other items:

• Sugino chromed seat binder bolt
• Newbaum's Eggplant purple cloth handlebar tape
• Rustines handlebar plugs (like Velox)
• Nitto M18 front rack
• Andrew King "Iris" stainless steel water bottle cages
• Crane bell on Velo Orange spacer

Dee-Lilah is designed so that, if I like, I can add fenders and/or a rear rack if I decide to, say, take her on a tour. But I had her built mainly with day trips in mind, and my first such ride with her has been a joy. 

In all, I have tried to combine my color preferences and my love of traditional bike aesthetics with what is practical for me.  So far, it all seems to have balanced out nicely!

Speaking of aesthetics:  Dee-Lilah's main color is Lilac (hence her name) Polychromatic (#17 on the Mercian colour chart) set off with a head tube and seat panel in Deep Plum Pearl (#56).

                           

Tosca Returns

You've seen her before:

Soon you'll see her all dressed up.

Yes, she's Tosca.  She absconded a few weeks ago and now she's back.  

Well, we all know that if we let our friends out of our sight for a while, they change.  I shouldn't be surprised. ;-)

Seasonal Indecision

Yesterday was one of those days that couldn't seem to decide whether it was very late summer or not-quite-early fall.  

My ride started in a cool mist on Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear.  It was actually pleasant:  I felt every pore and orifice of my body opening in a very pleasant way.

I headed for the Rockaways.  The cool mist clung to silent streets, still homes and closed stores--and to me--as I spun through the western Queens neighborhoods near my apartment.  

But, after I crossed under the "el" (elevated tracks, or viaduct for those of you who don't live in New York), the warm mist turned into a mild steam bath on my way across Jamaica Bay to Beach Channel.  Then, as I crossed the Veteran's Memorial Bridge into the Rockaways--and from the waves and clouds of Jamaica Bay to the tides and sky of the Atlantic--I experienced something I normally experience in early spring:  the temperature seemed to drop 20 degrees (F).  That is normal in April, when the air temperature on the mainland might be in the 70s (F), but the ocean is only in the 40s.  Yesterday, however, the air and water temperature were probably not very far apart:  somewhere near 70F, though it felt cooler along the Rockaway Boardwalk.

It's one of those odd coastal days that I truly enjoy:  The sky is overcast, though still only slightly less blue than the sea on the horizon, and that cool mist swirling about me.  I rode under that sky, by that sea and in that mist all the way to Point Lookout.  

Then the clouds broke and the sun peeked through--at least as I looked eastward from the Point.  Behind me, conditions were the same as the ones through which I'd ridden from the Rockaways.

And that is what I rode in all the way home.  I didn't mind:  Such conditions are actually welcome, at least for me, during the last few kilometers of a 125 kilo fixed gear ride!