The other day, I introduced you to Negrosa, the 1973 Mercian Olympic I acquired in June and on which I just made some "finishing touches."
Well, one bike came into my life, not long after another. So, I suppose, it was inevitable that one would part.
In this case, Josephine, the 1981 Trek 412 I refurbished, found a new home. Someone really wanted it and made me a good offer.
I liked Josephine, but I figure that if I want another bike like her, it shouldn't be too hard to find one. Besides, Negrosa is now my L'eroica bike.
Also, I've spent a lot on bikes this year and wanted to recoup some, even if only a little.
Thanks for the memories, Josephine!
So, it looks like my "meeting in Kool Orange" might be turning into a friendship. Or, at least, a cycle-buddy relationship.
Yes, Bill and I went for a ride the other day. He was on his Kool Orange Schwinn Sports Tourer from 1971, and I pedaled my 1981 Trek 412.
I know: I have to post a photo of it on my sidebar, with my other bikes. I've had it almost a year now. It's still a work in progress, but I'm pretty sure I'm going to keep it--even after I get the Mercian Vincitore Special I've ordered!
Anyway, Bill--who said he'd been feeling a bit under the weather--was moving at a rather sprightly pace through the backstreets of industrial Brooklyn when we chanced upon a shop in Bushwick.
"Can I help you."
"No, just want to take a look. Any shop with two Bob Jacksons looks promising."
Those bikes were, as it turned out, an entree, an appetizer or whatever you want to call it. Haven Cycles has quite the selection of vintage bikes: I noticed, among other bikes, a classic Raleigh Competition, a Schwinn Paramount track bike and a Serotta track bike equipped with Shimano's 10-pitch gearing and gold-anodized Super Champion Arc en Ciel tubular rims. There was even a Raleigh ten-speed made for the British market (it had the lamp holder brazed to the front fork) and the usual selection of ten- and twelve-speed bikes converted to single-speed city machines--including a lovely metallic lavender Motobecane.
I was especially taken with the Bob Jackson of Robin, the co-owner, who outfitted the bike with Surly's best rear rack, a White Industries triple crankset, Phil Wood hubs and, of course, a Chris King headset. The frame was intended for loaded touring, and that's how Robin equipped it.
Anyway, she left a comment on my post from the other day, describing an incident later that day that bore too much similarity to the ones I described in that post. She and co-owner Jon were, fortunately, able to re-unite a stolen bike with its rightful owner a year after it went missing.
After our visit, Bill and I continued riding through back streets of Brooklyn and Queens on a chilly but beautiful late fall-verging-into-early winter day. He--a photographer--commented that the day's light, as lovely as it was, looked more like early winter. I agreed and couldn't help but to notice that the day definitely felt like winter once we started crossing the bridges over Jamaica Bay into the Rockaways and back into Brooklyn, near Floyd Bennett Field.
Yes, we rode into the sunset. Please don't read too much into that: We rode into the sunset, but not off into the sunset!
Anyway, after that, we rode to his place and he introduced me to King's Kitchen, one of the many Chinese restaurants in his neighborhood: in Sunset Park, right next to the namesake park and a few blocks from Maimonidies Hospital and a point where Asian, Hispanic and Hasidic communities converge.
Few things warm the bones after a cold ride like a bowl of congee! In all, it was a day of happy endings, wouldn't you say?
My "winter" project is more or less complete.
Back in December, I found a 1981.5 Trek 412 at an estate sale. It was looking for a good home. I thought I'd finish it during my January recess from school and ride it during the winter.
Well, as with almost any project, not everything went exactly as planned. Some parts I'd intended to use didn't fit or work with other parts, and, well, I changed my mind about a couple of things along the way.
I finally got it into rideable (for my purposes, anyway) condition by Spring recess, in April. And, as I mentioned a few days ago, gearing wasn't quite to my liking--and the crankset (which had been sitting in my parts box for I-don't-know-how-long) stripped when I tried to remove it. So I had to "destroy it in order to save it", to paraphrase one of the more unfortunate commands of all time.
But now I think the only thing I might change is the bars--to drops. (Actually, I might make this bike "bi" and switch between drops and Porteurs as need, and whim, dictate!)
In putting the bike together, I didn't try to do an "original" or even a "period" restoration. Instead, I tried to rebuild the bike in the spirit of the original (Yes, I know, that's an extremely elastic term!) while suiting my needs and tastes as a rider. So, I decided not to refinish the frame (also, in part, because I didn't want to spend the time or expense) and when I didn't use parts that came with the bike, I installed components and accessories from within a few years of when the bike was made--or that at least don't look out of place on a bike of its time.
What that means is that the bike now consists of the following:
Frame and fork-- Trek 412, of Ishiwata 022 tubing.
Headset-- Stronglight A9 roller bearing (came with frame)
Wheels-- Rear: Specialized sealed bearing hub (made by Sansin) sealed bearing
Sun CR 18 Rim, 700C
36 DT spokes, 2.0 straight gauge, 3 cross
Front: Suzue sealed bearing hub
Sun CR 18 rim, 700 C
36 Wheelsmith spokes, 2.0 straight gauge, 3 cross
Continental Gatorskin Hardshell tires, 700 X 32
Crankset-- Shimano A 124 triple (1986 model), triple
46/42/28 rings
Derailleurs-- Rear: SunTour VxS with sealed pulleys
Front: SunTour Spirt (top-normal)
Shifters: SunTour PD-M (racheted)
Freewheel-- SunTour Winner Pro five-speed, 13-26
Chain-- SRAM PC-830
Pedals-- MKS GR-10 Platform (like Lyotard Berthet)
MKS "Basket" toe clips
Generic leather toe straps
Brakes-- Weinmann Carrera (first version)
with Mathauser "Kool Stop" pads
Tektro 4.1 inverse levers
Handlebar-- Velo Orange Porteur
Stem-- Specialized 9mm, made in Japan (Nitto?)
Seat post-- SR Laprade alloy (came with frame)
Saddle-- Brooks B17
Fenders-- Velo Orange Hammered, 45mm, with flap from RuthWorks SF
Rear Rack-- Blackburn Expedition stainless steel
Front Rack-- Nitto M18.
Bottle Cages-- Twofish
Pump-- Zefal Competition, converted
I plan to put a decaleur made by Mark Guglielmana on the stem. I've been using it on Vera (my Mercian mixte) and like it a lot. The reason I want to shift it to the Trek is that there isn't enough room under the headset nut for a decaleur (or anything besides a headset spacer). The Stronglight A9 that came with this bike isn't the original: Apparently, the original (probably Japanese) had a smaller stack height. Moving the decaleur will allow me to use my RuthWorks Randonneur bag on this bike.
Rebuilding this bike has been an interesting--and so far worthwhile--experience!
The weather has been so strange this year. February was warmer than April (or so it seemed), and after a spell of summer-like heat and sun in the middle of last month, skies turned gray and the air as chilly as that of early spring. Now we are experiencing a heat wave: For the third day in a row, the temperature topped 90F (32C).
So I packed a mini-picnic lunch and rode to the most logical place: the water--to the ocean, to be more exact. I took a familiar route down to Rockaway Beach and along the south shore of Queens and Brooklyn to Coney Island, and along the Verrazano Narrows and East River back to my place. In all, I did about 85 kilometers of riding.
And I took my winter-project Trek for the ride. I've made a couple of changes on it, both of which turned out for the better.
For one thing, I converted the double chainring setup to a triple. Actually, the crank is made for triples, but I had originally used "Gran Fondo" 46/30 gearing on it, with a 46 in the middle position and a BBG bashguard/chainguard replacing the outer chainring.
After a couple of rides, I remember why we used to ride half-step gearing. If you ride, say, a 12-25 or even a 12-27 nine-speed cassette, the differences between the gears aren't nearly as great as they are on almost any five-speed freewheel, except for the "corncob" (a.k.a. "straight block) ratio--which, at my age and given the fact that I'm long past racing, I will never use.
As it happens, I've been riding a 12-25 nine-speed on Arielle, my Mercian Audax. On the other hand, the Trek now has a 13-26 five-speed freewheel, with between-gear gaps nearly twice as wide as those on the nine-speed cassette. So, the 46 tooth chainring gives a 3.54 ratio (or, a 95.5 gear), while the next cog--15 tooth--provides a ratio of 3.06 (82.8). I find ratios in the 3.2 to 3.4 range very useful--at least, that's what I often ride on Arielle (48 tooth chainring with 15- or 14-tooth cog).
Now, I know the Trek is inherently a heavier bike with somewhat more relaxed geometery, and that I've added racks and fenders to it. Still, I missed having gears in the 3.2 to 3.4 range. So, I added a third chainring to the front: a 42 tooth in the middle, with the 46 tooth in the outer position.
Now it will just be a matter of re-acclimating myself to more frequent front shifts than I've become accustomed to making. On Arielle, and even on Vera, my Mercian mixte (which has a 46-30 setup), I almost always ride the larger chainring.
The other change I've made to the Trek is the brakes. The Weinmann 605s, especially with the Mathauser Kool-Stop pads, were fine. But I got a good buy on a lightly-used set of Weinmann Carreras. I noticed the difference (also with Mathauser Kool-Stop pads) immediately: The Carreras have a firmer, more positive, feel. I think it's mainly a result of their beefier arms. Next to the 605s, they're a bit clunky. But the Carreras have a nice finish, which looks especially good next to the hammered fenders, I think.
I may make one more change to this Trek. I like the way they look with the Velo Orange Porteur bars, but I get the feeling the bike is really made for dropped bars. And, now that Helene is gone, I've thought about returning the Porteur bars to Vera. While Vera's been fine--not surprisingly, a bit more aggressive--with dropped bars, I liked her ride with the Porteurs. And I liked the way she looked with them, too!
Then I have to name the Trek.
Yesterday the Trek project got another rite of initiation, if you will: I took it on a ride I have experienced with all of my Mercians--and some of the bikes of my youth.
I pedaled down to Long Branch, NJ. I am glad I went there yesterday, when it was overcast and windy--and turned chilly. Today is summer-like and, of course, it is Easter Sunday, so lots of families will be taking their post-church service or pre- (or post-) prandial strolls on the boardwalk. Some may even venture onto the beach, even though it's still too cold for just about any land, and even most amphibious, animals to swim.
Vehicular traffic was pretty light throughout the ride, except in one spot where it's almost always congested: Just past the Victory Bridge, where US 9 and New Jersey Route 35 converge for a couple of miles--which is near the point where the New Jersey Turnpike (the Jersey stretch of I-95) crosses the Garden State Parkway. But until that stretch, and after it, I didn't see many cars or trucks, even in Newark.
I rode down to the World Trade Center and descended through three levels of "upscale" (i.e., glossy and overpriced) shopping and "fine" (i.e., see above) "dining" (i.e., eating) "expriences" to the PATH train platform. If Dante's Inferno had been made of glass, steel and faux marble, and the people spent more money for clothes with names on them but weren't really any better-dressed than I was (if I do say so myself), it would have looked like that place.
And, the train parked itself in Journal Square, about halfway through the trip, for a "schedule adjustment". Hmm...I'll try that the next time I have a deadline to meet. Anyway, a trip that normally takes about 20 minutes took double that amount of time: longer than it took me to ride from my apartment to the World Trade Center.
Once I got out of Newark Penn Station, which smells as if someone's been brewing the same pot of coffee since the day it opened (It's a WPA building.), I was about to swing my leg over my bike when one of the most charming homeless men I've ever encountered asked me for a dollar to help him buy some fried chicken. Who doesn't like fried chicken? How could I deny such a request? Certainly not I, even if he wasn't telling me the truth!
I think, subconsciously, I chose to ride the Trek today because I knew its colors would mirror, more or less, the sea and sky. It's almost as if the Trek wanted to be there today.
The last part of the ride--from the Azzolina Bridge to Long Branch--was the flattest and, paradoxically, the most difficult part of the ride. It took me longer to cover that distance than to ride nearly double that distance, from the intersections of Route 35 and 36 in Matawan to the bridge. Once I got off the bridge, I was riding right into the teeth of the wind and the temperature felt as it had dropped about twenty degrees F. When I finally stopped, at the Long Branch boardwalk, it might been good to be a polar bear.
Speaking of which:
I think it's the first time that place has been painted in about 45 years. My first reaction was "Uh-oh! They're turning it into a Cold Stone Creamery clone--with CSC prices. Turns out, I had nothing to fear. It's still an old-school Jersey Shore roadside ice cream stand. You won't find exotic flavors there (unless you consider Yuengling Black and Tan exotic), just the stuff you remember from your childhood. And it's just as good, maybe better, and reasonably priced. I ordered a cone with vanilla-chocolate twist ice cream and a cherry topping. Definitely old-school Jersey shore.
It was good. Real good. So was my ride. So was the day.
The other day was a fine early-spring day. Yesterday was just like it, only warmer and with less wind.
It seemed like a good day for a maiden voyage. Yes, I took my winter project out for a ride. I'd planned to take it for a "shakeout" of, say, 20 kilometers. Then I'd go home, have lunch and take a ride on one of my Mercians.
But a ride to the World's Fair Promenade and Flushing Meadow park turned into a North Shore jaunt that took up the late morning and early afternoon. The day was just so nice that I didn't want to go back inside. Also, I was starting to form a few early impressions about the bike and wanted to spend some more time on the road to examine them, if not in depth.
Also, I wanted to see whether any problems would develop. So far, I haven't found any. I'll need to do only the things one normally has to do with a new build (even when using old parts): Cables and spokes need re-tensioning and I'm going to tweak the saddle and handlebar position a bit. So far, however, I don't think I'll need to make any major changes.
I reckon I rode 85 or 90 kilometers with a few hills and rough patches. The bike is both more stable and sprightly than I expected it to be. It seems, so far, to ride like a less refined version of Vera--which is not a bad thing, necessarily.
Years ago, I had a set of Weinmann 605 brakes on my Romic and one of my Treks. I liked them then, and now I remember why: They have a very firm response which, I believe, is enhanced with Mathauser (Kool Stop) brake pads. I am especially pleased that they are playing nice with the inverse brake levers.
And I remembered what I liked so much about SunTour derailleurs back in the day: They, like the brakes, have a positive response. I wondered, however, what the shifting would be like with a modern chain on an old freewheel. I wasn't so worried about whether they'd mesh: The freewheel I installed hadn't been used much, if at all: It was about as close to new as it could be without being new. It is, though, a five-speed freewheel, which has wider spacing between the cogs than what's found on modern cassettes. And the chain--a SRAM PC-830--is made for 8-speeds.
Happily, I didn't miss a shift. The "pickup" was quicker than I expected, and the chain engaged the cogs--on a SunTour Winner Pro freewheel--without any problems. The drivetrain shifted and ran quietly.
In an upcoming post, I'll list the componentry. For now, I'll mention two interesting (to you bike geeks, I mean enthusiasts, anyway) things I did.
One is in the rear wheel, which I built. The hub is spaced for a six-speed rear, with a 126mm over-locknut diameter. I rearranged the spacing--shortening it by 5mm on the right (drivetrain) side and lengthening the left side by the same amount. In other words, I spaced the right side for a 5-speed freewheel and, in adding the spacers to the other side, made the hub more nearly symmetrical. This reduces the amount of "dish" in the wheel which, I believe, will make it stronger.
The other thing I want to mention is the handlebar tape. Yes, I used cloth tape--in this case, Tressostar gray and dark blue--and coated it with clear shellac.
That ornament on the stem? It was an earring. It was once half of a pair. I lost its "mate". So, I cut off the clamp, filed down the stub and attached it to the stem with Crazy Glue!
If you've been reading this blog, you've seen the bag before. It's the great Randonneur bag Ely of Ruthworks made, which I've used on Vera for the past couple of years. I hope she and this bike--which I've yet to name--don't fight for custody of it!
All four of my Mercians have a few things in common besides, well, being Mercians. For example, they all have Phil Wood hubs and bottom brackets, Zefal HPX pumps, Brooks saddles and at least one part from Nitto. In addition, all of them have Ruth Works bags, made by Ely Rodriguez, attached to them.
They also have King headsets. Arielle, Tosca, Helene and Vera are also have another King in common: water bottle cages, specifically the Iris model. I have been very happy with them: They are easy to use, hold the bottle well, don't bend and haven't shown any signs of breaking or even wear. And, yes, I like the way they look.
Only recently have I discovered a "problem" with King Iris cages. Actually, it would not have been a problem if I hadn't stumbled across the 1981 Trek I've been working on. That frame doesn't have braze-on mounts for water bottle cages. Most Bike Boom-era ten-speeds, even high-quality ones like my Romic and Peugeot PX-10, didn't have them. Around the time my Trek was made, a good bike was as likely as not to have brazed-on water bottle mounts.
Most water bottle cages of that time, whether the high-quality ones from Specialites TA, Blackburn or REG, had tabs for clamps (which sometimes were supplied with the cages) as well as mounting holes. On the other hand, many modern cages--like my Irises--do not have the provision for clamps and are made only for braze-ons.
I know that adapters are available. Basically, they are plastic bands or zip-ties cinched with a plastic boss that contains a nut into which the cage is bolted. I have never tried them, so for all I know, they may work just fine. But I don't think they're worth $15. Also, they just wouldn't look right on the Trek (or, for that matter, any other decent bike).
So, the obvious solution is to use a classic or classic-style cage with clamps. Turns out, I had clamps but not, to my surprise, cages I could use with them. So, I searched for some vintage or vintage-style cages. In particular, I would have loved to find the single-clamp model TA made for a few years. Back in the day, they cost about $4 or $5 new. The ones I found on eBay were listed for $50 or more, and some of them looked as if they were fished out of the nearest bayou. And other classic steel cages--or even the old Blackburn alloy ones and the near-clones made by Minoura and other companies--were expensive and some, shall we say, looked as if they had been more than used.
Finally, I came across something that looks like a stainless steel version of those early Blackburn cages:
The welds on it are very clean and the finish is nice. It weighs about twice as much as the Iris, or almost any other modern stainless steel cage: The manufacturer lists a weight of 96 grams. Then again, almost any vintage steel cage weighs at least that much--and if I were so concerned about weight, I wouldn't be putting my effort into a bike like the Trek 412, would I?
The cage is made in the USA by Twofish. They make a similar cage with an attachment that allows it to be strapped onto a frame. People seem to like it, but I would rather go with the more traditional clamp setup, especially on a vintage bike.
Perhaps the best part of all is the price. When I bought my Iris cages, I paid $14 to $17 each. To me, such prices are entirely reasonable for good-quality stainless steel cages, especially ones made in the USA. And Ron Andrews makes those cages (as well as the titanium version) by hand in his Durango,Colorado garage.
Now, I don't know whether equally colorful individuals or little elves in Sequoia trees weld the Twofish cages. But they are made in this country, in California: one of the highest-wage states. So imagine my delight in finding this cage for $10.50.
Unlike most modern cages, this one has "tabs" that will accommodate vintage-style metal water bottle clamps. The ones I have will fit just fine.
And I think it will look right, and fine, on the Trek. That is what matters most, doesn't it?
One of my favorite bloggers is The Retrogrouch. So, I intend no disrespect to him with this post.
He is, of course, not the only cyclist to refer to himself as a Retrogrouch. I am mainly in sympathy with him and the others who so identify themselves: I ride steel frames, hand-laced wheels, downtube shifters (on my geared bikes), pedals with toe clips and Brooks saddles (except on my LeTour). And all of my cranksets have square tapered axles.
On the other hand, I ride cassette hubs on my geared bikes (though the Trek 412 I'm building will have a screw-on freewheel). The chief reasons are convenience and availablity: No high-quality multiple-sprocket freewheels are made today (All of the good ones are single-speed.) and most of the new-old-stock freewheels one can find on eBay and in other places have gear ratios that are useless to me. (I am "of a certain age" and don't race, so what can I do with a 12-13-14-15-16-17-18?) The unusued ones command exorbitant prices, while buying a used one is risky: Your chain may or may not play nice with it.
And, as you can see from the photos in my sidebars, some of my components are black. Some see that as a sign of a "sell-out", but there were indeed black components in the '70's and earlier. Even the high priests of "shiny silver" at Velo Orange (which is actually one of my favorite online retailers) concede as much.
So, having said my piece about Retrogrouches, I want to introduce another species or clan or tribe (depending on your point of view) of cyclists. I will call them Retrogeeks.
Now, Retrogeeks and Retrogrouches are not mutually exclusive. In fact, many can be identified, and would identify themselves, by both monikers. One notable exception would be the late, great Sheldon Brown: His encyclopaedic knowledge of all things bicycle made him a Retrogeek but, although he rode mainly steel frames and many older components, he did not think old is always better than new. So he is not a Retrogrouch, though some have called him that.
One hallmark of a Retrogeek is that he or she knows authentic vintage bikes and parts from ersatz ones, and can tell whether or not an old bike or part was modified. Today, I am going to conduct a sort of Rorsach test that might help you to begin to figure out whether or not you are a Retrogeek. Take a look at this photo:
Now take a look at this:
They are both images of the old Zefal Competition pump. With its color scheme, you probably wouldn't be surprised to know that many pro and semi-professional French bikes of the '60's and '70's came with it. The only other portable bike pump that was considered its equal (or, in some eyes, its better) was the Silca Impero.
What is the difference between the two Competitions in the first two photos?
If you look at the first two photos in this post, you will see that the pump in the second has the traditional press-on valve fitting, like the ones available for Silca pumps. To my knowledge, all Competitions came with it. The pump in the first photo, in contrast, has a thumb-lock fitting--from a Zefal HP pump, the Competition's successor.
Pity that poor HP. Had it been functional, I probably would use it on the Trek 412 I'm putting together: It was the pump of choice at the time the bike was made. Apart from the finish (polished on the Competition, silver anodized on the HP) and the color scheme, the only difference between the Competition and HP is in the head.
One nice thing about the Silcas is that you can change the head simply by twisting it off. A Zefal head, on the other hand, attaches to one of the strangest-looking screws ever made
all the way inside the body. Zefal used to make a tool for the purpose. The only one I ever saw (or used before today) resided on Frank's toolbench in Highland Park (NJ) Cyclery, where I worked.
A screwdriver with a long flat blade would unscrew it--as long as the shaft is about 400mm long. (At least, I think that's how long the Zefal tool was.) My longest screwdriver is only 12 inches (about 300mm). So I resorted to another implement
or, I should say, collection of implements. Assembled, it makes me think more of a crane--or of something made with an Erector Set-- than of any other hand tool I have ever seen or used.
It consists of a 3/8" socket drive with two extensions-- one of 10 inches (250mm), the other 6 inches (150mm), a 3/8"-to-1/4" adapter and the blade assembly from one of my reversible screwdrivers which--wonder of wonders!--fit into the 1/4" socket.
Getting the screw out wasn't difficult. But reassembling was a bit trickier. I dropped the screw into the pump shaft and jiggled it until the threads protruded from the bottom. Then I inserted my contraption and held it against the screw and screwed the head on for a couple of threads. You can't screw it on all the way since the hole at the bottom of the pump has a hexagonal shape, into which the inner lip of the pump end fits.
So, after threading the head onto the screw for a couple of threads, I rotated the pump body until the hexagonal lip of the pump head skid slid into the hexagonal hole at the bottom of the pump body (easily yet snugly: the parts were well-machined). Of course, I lightly greased the hexagonal parts and the screw threads before re-assembling everything--and, between disassembly and reassembly, I cleaned out the shaft and gave the inside a light coating of fresh grease.
The "operation" was a success: I pumped two tires to full pressure (90 PSI). Yes, I cleaned out the head before I re-assembled the pump.
I know I could have kept the Competition as it was. I ride only Presta valves, so the press-on fitting would have worked just fine. (I know: I used both Silcas and Zefal Competitions for years.) But it is easier to pump high-pressure tires with the thumb-lock attachment. Plus, I now have a pump that nobody (or, at least, hardly anybody) else has. Don't worry: I saved the original Competition head and screw, just in case I decide to convert it back.
Now, if you've been following this blog for the past few weeks, you can guess which bike is getting this pump.
