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”!

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.

Mike From Far Rockaway

At the first rest stop of the Tour de Bronx, I chanced upon this machine:

A guy named Mike was riding it.  He built it himself, from a stock frame.  He said he plans to rebuild the wheel with a blue rim, but he wanted to ride the bike in the Tour.  I can see why:  I'm not the only one who noticed it!

He says he builds different types of bikes--single speeds, fixies, cruisers, kids' bikes as well as others--from stock frames.  I didn;t get a chnce to ask who (or what company) makes the frames.

He told me he works out of Far Rockaway, through which I pedal whenever I ride to Point Lookout, and that I could find him on the web.  However, my searches so far have proved unfruitful. I told him about this blog, and hope he remembers it.  Mike, I hope you see this!

Soho Fixie

Today, after classes, I had a physical therapy session.  My therapist is literally down the block from Grand Central Station.  I actually enjoyed the session, but I'm also happy to know that next week's session will probably be my last.


Afterward, I took a spin down to Bicycle Habitat.  When I went there a couple of weeks ago, I got to chatting with the folks there and forgot why I went:  for the free touch-up on a pair of wheels they'd built for me. Well, today I got that done.


While waiting for my bike, I wandered around Soho.  About a block and a half from Habitat, I spotted this bike in the process of being locked to one of those Soho boutiques that operates from an old factory building:

The bike itself is a good, though not terribly unusual, one.  However, I liked the way it looked on the railings and brick, and in front of that window.

Vishnu, its owner, was locking it up when I arrived on the scene. He was very gracious, if in a bit of a hurry.  So he was happy to let me photograph his bike.  However, he had already locked his bike before I asked whether I could photograph him.  That's too bad:  He's not a "hipster" or wannabe; he is a very handsome, youngish man who happened to be stylishly (though not self-consciously so) dressed.  Oh well.  I'm glad I got this photo, even if I could only get it on my cell phone.

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.

Uncrossing Our Fingers: The Day After The Storm That Wasn't

Yesterday's radio (and, I assume, television) programming was interrupted or punctuated by updates on Hurricane Earl.  Forecasters expected it to be the biggest storm in nearly two decades:  the biggest since the "perfect storm" that inspired the eponymous book and movie.


For much of the day, it looked as if the storm would hit.  The sky was so heavy that it looked as if it could submerge everything beneath it without a single drop of rain falling.  And the air, it seemed, was even heavier, yet viscous, with heat and humidity.

But, in the end, more sweat dripped from people's skins than raindrops fell from the clouds.  Some time in the wee hours of morning, some of the wind from the storm blew the clouds away.  So, save for the difficulty of pedaling into the wind, today was a wonderful day to ride, walk or be outdoors for any other reason.  It was warm enough to wear a sundress or tank top and shorts, but the wind was brisk enough to open one's pores to the hind of chill that it brought.  


I took a very leisurely ride on my fixie (Is that a contradiction?) and basked in both sun and wind on a park bench. Tosca, my fixie, seemed to enjoy it as much as I did.  

The day after a storm, or just bracing for one, everything seems like a reverie.  Especially a bike ride.