The Real Reason To Ride A "Flip-Flop" Hub!

When I converted a Peugeot U-08 into my first “fixed-gear bike” (I hadn’t even heard the term “fixie”!), hardly anyone else—and only one cyclist I knew—had ever ridden one.  Others had seen them—actually, track bikes, which are a slightly different species— in a store or trade show, or in a magazine or catalogue (Remember, there was no Internet in those days!) but could not conceive of riding them anywhere but a velodrome. 

Riding a fixed-gear bike, even with brakes, seemed like one of those things that someone like me would do.  You see, I was not much more than twenty, full of testosterone and other substances, some of which were produced by my body.  Most of the cyclists I knew then—including members of the club I sometimes rode with—were older and started cycling when there were even fewer adult cyclists, and thus less of a knowledge base, than we have now.  I would guess that none of them had seen anything with a fixed gear, let alone seen anyone riding such a machine, when they first took up cycling.

Now, of course, hipsters and all sorts of other people ride “fixies”, at least in places like New York.  A few ride real track bikes. Others are on bikes that came equipped as “urban fixies” or “singles” while still pedal converted ten- and three=speeds.  As it happens, I now ride one bike that’s made for single-speed/fixed gear use (Tosca, my Mercian fixie) and another (my LeTour) that was converted from a 1970’s ten-speed.

Even if there weren’t so many people riding single speeds and fixies, people probably wouldn’t look at me askance.  After all, I am now a woman of, ahem, a certain age who lives with cats.  I am more or less expected to be eccentric, just as nobody was surprised that I tried “crazy” things when I was a young male.

Anyway…There were some things even I didn’t know about when I was cranking down on the French-threaded bottom bracket lockring I used to secure my fixed gear to the Normandy hub that came with that Peugeot.   One was, of course, that track hubs had two sets of threads:  one on which the cog threads and another, threaded in the opposite direction, for the lockring.  It’s amazing that I rode my first fixie for as long as I did without unthreading it!  Another thing I didn’t know about is something that’s nearly ubiquitous now:  the “flip-flop” hub.  Almost all “urban fixies” and “singles” are equipped one; so are many conversions and even true track bikes that are ridden on the streets.

A few “flip-flop” hubs are made for a fixed cog on each side.  Usually, each cog is of a different size so a rider and “flip” the wheel to get a different gear.  But the more common configuration is a fixed gear on one side and a single freewheel on the other.  If you’re riding your fixed gear and get tired, you can “flip” over to the freewheel so you can coast for at least some parts of your ride.

But I discovered another practical reason for a “flip flop” hub yesterday, when I was running some errands on my LeTour.

I’d been pedaling through an industrial area of Maspeth, a part of Queens almost no tourist ever sees.  There, the streets are moonscapes or the Ho Chi Minh trail or whatever metaphor you want to use for something that has more potholes than smooth surface.  The reason for such road surfaces is, of course, the trucks that rumble over it.

I’d been pedaling at a pretty good pace when, suddenly, my rear wheel seized.  Since I was riding the “fixed” side, my feet, pedals and cranks stopped in unison:  On a “fixie”, if your wheels aren’t turning, neither are your pedals.

When I stopped, I discovered the cause:  The chain had popped off the cog and wedged itself in the gap between the right crank and bottom bracket shell.  When I got off the bike, I discovered that part of the chain had doubled over itself on the rear cog, which had unscrewed—along with the lockring—from the hub. 

That led me to think that perhaps the lockring had vibrated off before the “derailment”.  Whatever the cause, I knew I had a particular problem:   After reinstalling the cog and ring, I could tighten the cog easily enough just by pedaling it, but since I didn’t have a tool—or even a hammer and screwdriver or punch—I couldn’t tighten the lockring enough to prevent a similar mishap.

So—you guessed it—I “flipped” the wheel to the freewheel side.  And I was back on my way.

Now you know at least one reason why you should ride a “flip-flop” hub on your commuter or errand bike!  And you don’t have to be a crazy young guy or a woman “of a certain age” with cats to get away with it.  As Ru Paul says, it’s how you “work it”!

Suspension Of DIsbelief

About fifteen years ago, I saw a classic Cinelli track bike with a floral basket attached to the handlebars.  I'd never seen such an arrangement before, and I complemented its rider, a young woman with hair in hues that weren't offered even in DuPont Imron.  She grinned, as if I'd gotten some sort of joke.

Now I see all like manner of baskets--including porteur-styled ones--as well as racks and bags on fixed gear bikes.  Granted, those bikes aren't classic Cinellis or classic anything else.  But they are fixed-gear bikes nonetheless, even if they'll never get near a velodrome.  So it's still a little odd, at least for me, to see them so rigged up.

This one, though, takes the genre of the fixed-gear city transporter to new heights:

Or, more precisely, it takes rear baskets to new heights, literally.  Perhaps it redefines "suspension" on a bicycle.

 
 

What They Know About Hipsters In Malaysia

Here's something for your hipsters in your life:



This comes to us from our friends at USJ Cycles in Selangor, Malaysia.

Spinning Out

The first time I rode downhill on a fixed-gear bike, I made the same mistake many other first-timers make:  I let allowed the force of gravity, rather than my feet, to determine the speed.  So, I soon found myself "spinning out":  My feet and pedals were turning so quickly that I lost control of them.  Even the brakes--the Mafac Racers that came with the old Peugeot UO8 I turned into a "fixie"--weren't enough to stop the bike when a Ford station wagon (remember those?) steered into my path.  Fortunately for me, my reflexes were much better than my fixed-gear riding skills!

I thought about that when I came across this:

From Funny Cycling Pictures

Those old high-wheelers were, of course, fixed gear:  When the wheels turned, so did the pedals--and vice-versa.  I can only imagine how much more precarious it must have been to "spin out" while perched five feet above the ground!

Before Tosca: Dee Bee, A De Bernardi "Thron"

Today you're going to meet Tosca's predecessor.

That is to say, you're going to see the fixed gear bike I rode before Tosca came into my life.

If you want an old-school European steel track bike--or, at least, one that has geometry more or less like what you'd find on a real track bike--you'd do well with the De Bernardi Pista I rode for three years.

The frame was constructed of Columbus "Thron" tubing.   So, it's a bit heavier than what most professional racers would ride on the track, or anything NJS would approve. Still, it has that "riding on rails" quality track bike aficianados like. It didn't respond or handle quite as quickly as Tosca does, but it was, I think, a little better than the KHS I had.  

I set the bike up for runs along the north shore of Queens and Nassau County, or spins down to Rockaway or Coney Island Beach.  So, of course, the bike didn't have pure track--let alone NJS-approved--components. Still, most of them served me well.

I rode the wheels you see in the picture for most of the time I rode the bike.  Velocity laced their own Deep-V rims onto Velocity-rebranded Formula hubs with bladed spokes in a gold finish that matched the rims and hubs.  

After nearly three years, the rear spokes started to break.  At that point, I had Hal at Bicycle Habitat build me another set of wheels with Mavic Open Pro rims on Phil Wood hubs. A few months later, Tosca arrived and inherited those wheels.  I bought another set of wheels with Formula hubs from an eBay seller.  Those wheels--in black--were on "Dee-Bee" when I sold her.

"Dee-Bee" was, I believe, a worthy predecessor to Tosca. 

My First Fixie: A Peugeot U0-8 Conversion

Thirty years ago, the only people who rode fixed-gear bikes were racers.  Even messengers, for the most part, hadn't glommed onto the simplicity and "cool factor" or riding a "fixie."

That meant, of course, that very few people knew about building them and that parts weren't readily available.  Bike books, at the time, contained little or no information about how to build, maintain or ride a fixed-gear bike.  In fact, the authors of those books most likely never rode or owned a track or fixed-gear bike.  If I remember correctly, Bicycling! never had any articles about them.

Back then, I knew only one person who rode a fixed gear.  That is what he used for his winter training; sometimes, he'd take his "fixie" on rides with the Central Jersey Bicycle Club, of which both of us were members.  He was a bit of a gearhead as well as a fitness fanatic; he meant well, but his enthusiasm for fixed gears probably scared a few people off.

One of my few sources of pride is that I wasn't one of those people.  I figured that if he could ride a fixed gear, so could I.  And I couldn't help but to notice that his "fixie" wasn't a fancy bike:  If I recall correctly, it was a mid-level Italian road frame (a Legnano made from Falk tubing, I think) and the components, while good, were nothing special.

So I set out to convert a Peugeot U-O8 I'd been using as my commuter and "beater."  I don't have a photo of it, but when I started, it looked like this:

My U0-8 was the same color as the one in the photo and, from what I can see, the same size. Like most French bikes of its time, it came with French-threaded parts, including the Normandy rear hub.  I knew enough not to thread an English- or Italian-threaded freewheel onto such a hub.  So, I looked and I looked (Remember, we didn't have the Internet in those days!) for a track cog that would fit.  Finally, I located a source:  Mike Fraysee, who imported French bikes into the US and sold them under the name "Paris Sport", had a few. He also had the requisite lockrings.  A few days later, I had both and a Sedis 1/8" chain that Peugeot used on its three-speed bikes.

Although I had worked in two bike shops, I had never worked on a fixed-gear bike.  So, I had no idea that track hubs (or, at any rate, hubs made for fixed gears) had two sets of threading:  a right hand-threaded "step" onto which the cog was installed and, in front of it, a left hand-threaded "step" for the lockring.  That design "locks" the ring against the cog and prevents it from unscrewing when you decelerate or stop without hand brakes.

Well, I installed the cog and tightened the lockring as much as I could in a vice.  Before installing both, I coated the threads with LocTite.  

Believe it or not, I actually got away with riding that arrangement for a few months.  Then, one day, I locked my legs when a taxicab made a right turn from the lane to my left on Lexington Avenue near Grand Central Station.  Although I managed not to run into that cab, I toppled over when the ring and cog unscrewed.  When I got back up, I screwed them back on, but they wouldn't stay:  The threads stripped.

I got the bike to a nearby shop.  "Wut da fuck iz dis shit?," the grizzled mechanic growled.  "U coulda got yerself killed!"

He was right:  Not only did I have an unsafe rear wheel, I had a terrible chainline.  It's a wonder that the chain stayed on the chainring and cog, let alone that the cog stayed on that hub for as long as it did. 

And I wasn't wearing a helmet.  But a parked Mercedes broke my fall and kept my head from hitting the pavement.

I wouldn't repeat the fixed-gear experiment for another decade.  By that time, I had a real job and bought a real track bike.  That will be the subject of another post.

When Chattering Bike Geeks Perform A Public Service

If your bike is stolen in New York City, you have about a two percent chance of getting it back.  

Agata Slota didn't expect to beat those odds.  Her bike--which her brother built for her--was lifted near Union Square five years ago.  She posted an ad and photo on Craigslist.  A week later, they expired and she had not received any responses. She and her boyfriend started to plan on a replacement.

However, a friend posted the photo and an announcement of the theft on an online chat room for fixed-gear enthusiasts.  Several weeks later, someone posted a response after seeing Ms. Slota's bike locked up outside a Quizno's restaurant in Midtown.  This led to a series of a series of messages that resulted in Ms. Slota getting her bike back.

Jack Drury, a former bike messenger who was interning at Transportation Altenatives, was one of the people who read the post.  He went to the Quizno's restaurant.  The bike wasn't there, but on a hunch, he went inside and talked to the person behind the counter, who said the bike belonged to a delivery man who paid $200 for it. 

After negotiating a deal to buy the bike, Drury then enlisted a group of volunteers to go with him to the Quizno's, where the man with the bike was supposed to meet them.  He didn't show, but another employee told them about the man's second job as a dishwasher in an Upper West Side restaurant.  So Drury and his posse rode uptown where they met the man, who wasn't a very enthusiastic negotiator.  Drury then pulled out his cellphone and dialed the police.  While he was waiting to be connected, the man gave in.

Drury doesn't believe the man stole the bike and doesn't harbor any ill will toward him.  In fact, he offered the man one of his own bicycles and gave him his number. He hasn't heard back.

Needless to say, Ms. Slota has become more vigilant about bike theft.  From Drury, she learned not to lock her bike to a horizontal bar of a construction scaffold, as it is fairly easy to unscrew.  Better to lock it to the vertical post. 

She applied that lesson recently, when she saw two men admiring a Bianchi track bike in the way prospective thieves would.  When she asked the men about the bike, they took off.  Then, she got one of her own locks out of her office and secured the bike (which had been attached to the horizontal bar) to the vertical bar.    

She left a note with her phone number, and a message that she would unlock the bike after its owner called her.  Clearly, her own experiences motivated her to help prevent something similar (though with the probability of a less-happy outcome) from happening to somebody else.

And she's still riding the bike her brother built for her.

One For Vera? Or Is It An Internal Matter?

I promise:  Vera will not end up looking like this:

However, she may end up with a fixed gear or a "flip-flop" hub.  Now that she's become my regular commuter, I'm really thinking about dispensing with the derailleur.  


Some of you will tell me to consider an internally-geared hub (IGH).  I am. However, I haven't had the best of luck with the ones I've had.  Hal, the Bicycle Habitat mechanic who's built any wheel I ride and haven't built myself (and who set up Arielle, Tosca and Helene) says the only IGH he likes is the Rohloff, which costs more than my first ten or so bikes.  


And, I'll admit that I like the elegant simplicity of fixed gears, and even single speed freewheels.  But don't worry:  If I go that route, or give in to an IGH, I won't do anything silly like cutting off the derailleur mounting "ear" on the rear dropout.  In fact, I don't want to cut, drill bend or otherwise mutilate the frame for any modification.

Do You Ride A "Fixie" Or A Bike With A Fixed Gear Into The Sunset

If I count the miles I pedaled going to and from yesterday's ride, I did about 45 miles all together--on Tosca, my fixie.


Of course, I've cycled many more miles than that in one ride.  However, it's been a while since I've ridden that many miles on a fixed gear.


Today I rode only a few miles, albeit on a fixed gear.  Notice I said "a fixed gear" as opposed to "my fixie."  A few months ago, I fitted a fixed gear to Marianela.  However, I don't think of it as a fixie:  I think of it as my commuter/utility bike, which I just happen to be riding with a fixed gear.


I think the difference in the way I think about each of them has to do with the fact that Tosca is a bike that's made to be used with fixed gears, while Marianela started life as a late '70's ten-speed bike.

Anyway, Marianela seems to have this thing for sunsets.  So after a brief late day ride, I found myself having a picnic in Astoria Park.  The food consisted of a hero sandwich from Sal, Kris and Charlie's of Astoria.  It's one of those old-school Italian-American sandwich shops that seemed to be everywhere in the NY Metro area when I was growing up.  You probably wouldn't want to go there if you are a vegetarian.  I might become one, some day.  But not tonight.  I ordered something called "The Bomb."  (I mean, how could I not, with a name like that!)  Let me tell you, it was worth every damn calorie, gram of sodium and whatever of cholestrol I downed.  I didn't order it with mustard or mayo, but I did get oil and vinegar, which were perfect on this sandwich!


I almost feel guilty for not having shared, even if these people were enjoying each other's company:

After eating that sandwich, I probably could have attached a chain to my bike and pulled this train into the sunset all by myself:

The light inside that train alone would be worth the ride.  Heck, I wouldn't even mind being inside the windows of that building underneath the trestle, even if it is a water treatment plant.  But I got the best view of all--after riding my bike.

Fixin' to Sleep

Well, my plan is working.


I installed a fixed gear on Marianela so that my commutes and errand rides would give me more of a workout.  


Last night, I just barely kept myself awake to read the papers that had to be read and prepare my lesson for today. I think I fell asleep immediately after dotting the last "i" or the end of the last sentence.


Then again, I didn't get nearly enough sleep the night before.  

Fixed On Ice

After the winter storms we've had, there are patches of ice and encrusted snow on little-used sidewalks and streets.  Fortunately, I did not encounter any of them on my ride to work this morning.  I also didn't find any on my way home, except for some I found along the path in Flushing Meadow-Corona Park.

Sometimes I like to detour through the park, even though it adds to my commute, because the park is both nice and has a lot of resonance for me.  If you saw Men In Black, you'd recognize it as the site of the Unisphere, perhaps the most iconic structure of the 1964-65 World's Fair, which my family attended when I was a child.  

Going through the park also allows me to avoid the area around Main Street in Flushing, where I encounter the heaviest and most chaotic traffic to be found between my apartment and my job.

But at least those streets are kept clear.  Such is not the case for sections of the park, which sees few visitors on weekdays in the midst of winter.  

As you may know, I installed a fixed gear on Marianela last week.  There's a very fine art to riding one on a glazed street or path.   

Of course, you probably won't embark on a ride across a glacier on your fixie, if you're going to ride anything at all.  But when you come upon a frozen puddle in your path, the best thing to do is to keep your line and move ahead.  

As best as I can tell, the way to do that is simply to release all of the tension in your muscles, at least to the degree that you can.  A white-knuckled grip will only make you more likely to skid and fall; so will any sudden attempt to stop or any attempt to accelerate.  

The best way to pedal is to let your legs continue to spin at whatever pace you were riding before you saw the ice.  Not only shouldn't you try to accelerate; you also shouldn't try to dramatically slow down (or stop) your bike.  You just want to let your legs keep up their momentum.  

Any attempt to accelerate or to make a stop will land you on your side, or some place where it will hurt even more.  So, for that matter, will making a turn.  If there's an obstacle on the ice, you're better off trying to ride through than to turn or slow down for it.  

Ironically, I took a minor fall today, but not on ice.  I was about fifteen minutes from home tonight when I somehow jerked my handlebar when pushing down on my left pedal after the traffic signal turned green.  I flipped onto my side, spilling the contents of my baskets.  Fortunately, two very nice young Asian men saw me and helped me to get up and gather the stuff that spilled.    They really must respect their elders in their culture!

Marianela Gets Fixed Up

When I rebuilt Marianela, I'd given her an ability she hadn't used--until the other day, when I fixed her up.

All right...If you know the story of Marianela, you know she wasn't fixed up.  But my old orange bike was. 

You see, her new wheels have a "flip-flop" hub in the rear.  Until the other day, I'd ridden her with a single freewheel.  But I decided that if I go through a period--as I just did--of not having time to ride save for my commutes and errands, I at least want to derive as much benefit and pleasure as possible from them.  So I gave  la pobre Nela a fixed gear.

I've only been able to ride it twice.  The drivetrain is surprisingly smooth, especially given the fact that it consists of low-cost parts. 

Of course, the only thing crazier and holding a greater potential for disfigurement and premature death than riding a fixie with no brake on the streets is riding one without some sort of foot retention.  So off came the rubber pedals and on went these:

Talk about back to the future:  These pedals are among the first made specifically for mountain biking.  They date to about 1985 or earlier.  Note that they have very wide platforms, which are great for foot support and comfort.  But they're also terrible for cornering and ground clearance, which is probably one reason why they haven't been made in more than twenty years. 

Also note a feature lacking in today's mountain bike pedals:  provisions for toe clips and straps.  The ones I installed are probably almost as old as the pedals themselves altough, unlike the pedals, they had never been used. 

So tell me:  How many bikes have you seen with those pedals--and Velo Orange fenders and "Milan" handlebars?  Or fixed gears with cyclocross/winter tires?

Velouria Gets Fixed Up

"Velouria," whose wonderful writing and photography graces her "Lovely Bicycle!" blog, has given new meaning to "Be careful of what you wish for."

She has written about her "attraction to beautiful track bikes" and "wistfulness for the velodrome," which she had dismissed as "ludicrous."

Well, I warned her....If we dismiss or resist something long enough, we'll take to it, or it will take us!  (Trust me, I know that as well as anybody can.) So I exhorted her to "go for it."  And, I made a deal:  My spirit would guide her if she promised to bring back one of those beautiful dress guards she always seems to find when she's in Vienna.

Yesterday she took her first ride on a track bike--yes, in Vienna!  And, from what she says, she enjoyed the experience.

I can just see it now:  Velouria on the velodrome in Vienna!


Could this be her future?:

Congratulations, Velouria.  And you owe me a dress guard! ;-)