The Trek Changes Its Status, But Remains A Single

I've made a change to the Trek 560 I recently built.

As you may recall from earlier posts, I'd equipped the bike with a Velosteel rear coaster brake hub.  Well, I swapped it for a single speed rear hub.

  

I might use the Velosteel hub on another bike, perhaps an old mixte or mountain bike.  I hadn't quite gotten used to its idiosyncrasies   They include the "dead" pedal stroke of half a pedal revolution I experienced when I started pedaling again after braking and that when I backpedaled, it seemed that the hub had to find its "sweet spot" before the brake engaged.  (Other coaster brakes I've ridden would stop the bike as soon as I backpedaled.)  I suppose that if I rode the hub more (I put about 200 miles on it.) I'd get used to it.

But even if I were to grow accustomed to, and like, riding with the hub, I don't think I would have wanted to keep it on the Trek--assuming, of course, I decide to keep the Trek. It's a good bike, but a little bit too large for me.  Plus, for a winter/beater bike, I think I'd rather have something that can accept wider tires.

One thing you might have noticed is that some of the spokes are silver and some are black.

I didn't plan it that way:  It just happened that I had 28 silver and 12 black spokes in the length I needed, and the wheel needed 36 spokes. I used all of the black spokes and 24 of the silver ones.  So, every third spoke is black.

Somehow I think that might actually be a selling point!

The World's Best Front Basket

The other day, "adventure!" suggested that I install a front rack or basket on the Trek 560 I just built.  It makes sense, especially given that I installed Velo Orange Porteurs (which have become my favorite non-dropped handlebars)  on it.

I might actually do "adventure!"'s idea one better:

I found this photo on a site called, not surprisingly, Ridiculous Bicycles.  There, you can find all sorts of examples of what can happen when unemployed engineers have too much time on their hands--or bike mechanics smoke funny little cigarettes.  Check out the circular bicycle built for eight!  

What happens if one of those cyclists falls?  Well, I guess the guy with the shopping basket could cart him or her to the emergency room!

A Reflection On My Treks Past

The bike I rode yesterday is the third Trek I've owned.

So, naturally, I got to thinking about the other two.

My first Trek was also the first "pure" racing bike I owned.  It might well have the tightest geometry of any road bike I've ever had.

The Trek 930 frame was made from 1977 until 1981.  Mine, I believe, was from 1979 and was made by master frame builder Tim Isaac, who began building frames for Trek that year.  

The 930--which should not be confused with a singletrack mountain bike bearing the same numerical designation, which Trek offered during the 1990's--was a classic lugged bike constructed from Columbus SL tubing.  (The larger sizes used the slightly thicker-walled Columbus SP.)  The one in the photo is the same size as mine was:  a 56cm seat tube.  But, like other racing bikes of the time, it came with a top tube of the same size as the seat tube.  That meant I had to ride with a short-reach stem, which made the steering less than optimal.

But the bike could accelerate, thanks to its short chainstays and wheelbase.  Being young and full of testosterone (and other substances), I could blast that thing on the flats.  Oddly, though, it didn't climb quite as well as some other bikes I've had, including ones with longer wheelbases and chainstays.

And there is one other difference between my 930 and the one in the photo:  Mine was black.  However, it had the same style of lettering you see in the image, and, unlike some other Treks, didn't have a contrasting-color band.  I equipped it with a mixture of racing components, a tan Ideale 2002 saddle and red handlebar wrap and cable housings.

Trek 930 with period components--except for the seat, of course.

I bought the frame while I was working at Highland Park Cyclery. If I remember correctly, I took that frame in lieu of three or four days' pay.  Later, I acquired my second Trek in a similar way.

That frame, a 1982 Trek 510, became the bike I would ride on my second European tour, which took me from Rome and up the coast of Italy into France.  If you have, or have ridden, a Rivendell Rambouillet, you have an idea of what that bike was like.  In the 1970's and 1980's, a number of bike companies offered bikes like it, which were called "sport tourers."  As you might have guessed, their geometry wasn't as tight as that of a racing bike, but it didn't have the "lumber wagon" dimensions of many touring bikes.  It's the sort of bike you could take on a quick training ride, or to which you could attach a rack and panniers for a short or light tour.  

The bike had a longer wheelbase and chainstays than the 930, although it was the same size.  Strangely, though, it had a top tube of the same length.  But I didn't mind riding a short-reach stem on the 510 as much as I did on the 930 because I often rode the 510 with a handlebar bag.

It was constructed of Ishiwata 022. I don't know whether Ishiwata tubing is still made, but a number of bike builders were building some nice frames from it.  Like Tange tubing, it was made in Japan and was a chrome-molybdenum steel.

My 510 came in the same colors--a burgundyish red with a silver/grey band on the seat post--at the one in the photo.  However, I didn't use yellow accessories:  My water bottle cage, like the rack I installed on it, was silver.  And I rode it with a tan leather saddle and brown leather handlebar tape--from Cannondale, I believe.

I actually got it after I'd "officially" stopped working at Highland Park.  However, Frank, the then-owner, let me work a couple of days to pay for it.  I think it was a "leftover" from the previous year that he wanted to move.

For about a year, I owned both the 930 and 510.  Then I sold the 930 so I could buy "the bike of the future."  But that's a story for another post.

Taking The Trek To Work

Today I commuted on the Trek 560 I just built.

In a way, I picked one of the worst possible days to ride it.  When I started, the day was cloudy.  The weather forecasters hinted at a chance of rain.  But I figured I'd get to work before the precip. 

We all know how such plans work out--especially when you're riding a bike without fenders.  I didn't mind the bike getting cruddy--after all, the paint is pretty rough on the frame.  

When weather reporters say "passing showers", what they really mean is that you  are passing through the showers.  Such was the case for me today:  I think that once the showers came, they stayed.  I'm the one who had to pass.

Oh well.  At least I know two things:  The tires (Panaracer Ribmos) grip well.  And using a coaster brake on a rain- (and, in stretches, oil-) slicked street is another skill I'll have to master if I'm going to keep the bike as it is.

One thing that worked surprisingly well was the Nelson Longflap bag on the rear.  For one thing, as this frame is larger than the others I own, there is less seatpost protruding from it than on my other bikes.  So I wasn't sure whether there would be enough room to mount the bag and fill it without it rubbing against the tire.  And I don't have any kind of rack or bag support on the bike.

Because of the bike's geometry and the saddle position, the bag mounts almost horizontally, so that the flap opens almost at the rear.  (Rivendell's Sackville saddle bags seem to be designed to work that way.)  So, I put my U-lock in the "bottom" (the back, if the bag were mounted vertically) of the compartment.  It acted as a reinforcement that kept the bag from sagging--just enough.  On top of it, I stacked folders with students' papers, books, lunch, my purse and a pair of dress shoes.

The bag stayed put.  And, although the bike felt a bit squirrelly in the rear, it was still more stable than I expected it to be with the load, which the frame--at least in terms of geometry-- is not designed to handle.

If I were to commute regularly on this bike, I'd probaby install some sort of rack or bag support.  And, although the coaster brake itself is unaffected by the weather, I'm not so sure it'd be my first choice on a regular commuter.  I don't know whether this is a common trait of coaster brakes, but when I stop, sometimes I have to pedal about half a rotation "in neutral" before I can accelerate the bike.  It's similar to what happens when you shift a three-speed into the nether zone between gears, or when it's out of adjustment.  Plus, using handbrakes is more of a natural reflex for me than kicking back to brake.

Anyway, taking the Trek to work was an interesting experience.  I might try it again--on a day when there aren't "passing" showers!

 

"Marley's" Wheel Finds Its Home--For Now

As you may have guessed, the wheel Marley "helped" me build has found a home--for now.

Yes, it's on the Trek 560 frame I "rescued."  Today I took it out for its first run--a visit to the doctor's office, with a stop at the Donut Pub on the way home.  The trip is about six miles each way.

About half a mile from my apartment, I had to make my first stop, for the traffic light before the entrance to the Queensborough Bridge.  I had to think for a split-second:  I don't ride coaster brakes regularly, so I had to "re-learn" the impulse to pedal backward.  Obviously,it's very different from stopping with a handbrake, but it's also not as much like coming to a halt on a fixed-gear bike as one might expect.  On a coaster brake, you backpedal for about an eighth of a crank rotation. Once the brake engages, you can't backpedal any further.

 On the other hand, when you want to stop your fixie (without hand brakes), you actually tense your legs up and shift that tension backward and downward, toward your heels.  You can't really backpedal unless you're unbelievably strong or are willing to live with two broken legs for a long time.

Once I got used to the backpedaling motion, it wasn't hard to control my stops:  The Velosteel brake works quickly and smoothly.

As for the bike itself:  The jury is still out.  Not surprisingly, it's accelerates pretty quickly, as the wheelbase and chainstay lengths are about the same as those of Arielle and Tosca.  However, the frame is made of heavier tubing and, more important, the seat tube is about 1 cm longer, which I noticed somewhat on dismounting the bike.   The most significant difference, size-wise, between the Trek and my diamond-frame Mercians is that the top tube is about 2.5 cm longer.  One consequence of that is that I'm using a stem with a shorter extension, which makes the steering less sensitive than it is on any of my Mercians except, possibly, Vera.

I have no doubt this could be a very good errand, city or winter bike.  I just wonder how comfortable it will be for me.  And, of course, I will have a more difficult time riding in a skirt than I would on Vera or Helene.  

Whether or not I keep the bike, I'm going to hold onto the wheel I just built, as well as the front one. I'd also probably take the saddle, and possibly the handlebars, off the bike before I sell it or otherwise give it up.  But I'm not going to make that decision before I ride it at least a few more times.

What To Do With A Rescued Frame

About a week ago, I mentioned that I "rescued" a rather nice old frame.

Turns out, I have most of the parts I'd need to build it.  So now the question is:  Into what kind of a bike should I build it?

As best as I can tell, this frame is a 1983 Trek 560.  That year, it was sold as a complete bike with SunTour Blue Line derailleurs along with a mixture of other Japanese components, most of which were reliable if not fancy.  However, in that component mix was a Helicomatic freewheel.  It was a good idea, and, had it been better-executed,  we might be riding it, or other hubs based on its design, instead of Campangnolo- and Shimano-style cassette hubs.

The frame itself was made from Reynolds 501 tubing.  Apparently, Reynolds made it for only a few years during the 1980's.  It's butted, but heavier than 531, 631 or 853.  Also, it differs from those higher-quality Reynolds tube sets in that it has a seam.   It's actually much like the tubing used to make the Bridgestone RB-2 I rode briefly, until it was stolen.  

A number of entry-level racing bikes (or relaxed road bikes) were constructed of 501 during the mid-1980's.  In addition to Trek, Peugeot, Gitane and a few other European bike manufacturers made bikes from this tubing.

The paint on this Trek is in pretty rough shape.  It's better on the seat tube because there had been a "panel" decal there, which was removed.   I suppose I could paint it and build a pretty bike from it.  But I'm thinking of turning the bike into a "beater" or winter bike.  If I do that, I will probably use a single speed (perhaps a "flip-flop" hub) on the rear and a single chainring.  And I have a scratched-up pair of Velo Orange Porteur bars (which have become my favorite upright bar).  

If I turn it into a "beater" or winter bike, the parts are going to be functional but not fancy.  On the other hand, if I take more care and make it prettier, I might end up selling it.  Whatever I do, this is going to be an interesting project, I think.