A Pinarello's Replacement On The Campus Bike Rack

In one of my early blog posts, I mentioned seeing a Pinarello on a campus where I worked.  I contrasted it with the near-absence of bicycles on another campus in which I worked, and that whenever I parked at the latter campus, my bike--even Marianela, the old Schwinn LeTour III on which I was commutig--was by far the best.

Well, the young man who used to ride the Pinarello has graduated.  But, yesterday, I saw another bike that surprised me almost as much as seeing that Pinarello did.

Seeing a late-model Cannondale, particularly in an upper middle-class suburban area like the neighborhood that surrounds the campus, is not remarkable in and of itself.  Seeing a Cannondale track bike is somewhat more unusual but, again, not entirely out of the realm of possibility.

What shocked me was how well-equipped that bike was.  Most track, fixie or single-speed bikes parked in campus bike racks have serviceable, but not spectacular components.  However, this Cannondale sported Mavic Ellipse track wheels, an FSA carbon crankset, a Ritchey Pro seat post, Salsa stem and Nitto bars.  

The only components that seemed incongruent were the flat pedals, intended for downhill mountain biking, made by Crank Brothers (makers of the Egg Beater pedals).  Don't get me wrong:  They're a high-quality component.  But they did seem odd on a bike that otherwise seemed to be built for the velodrome.

I wasn't able to get a better angle to take close-up shots because a motorcycle was parked next to the Cannondale.  But I think you can see why it stood out even in a bike rack that has hosted a Pinarello--and Vera, my green Mercian mixte.

Another New Addition (!)

No, I didn't buy another Mercian.  (Having four is almost an embarrassment of riches, really!)  Rather, my "new addition" was installed on Vera.

She, like many other bikes built at the same time (early 1994) she was, has low-rider rack mounts on the front fork.  Vera is, if I remember correctly, the third bike I've owned with those mounts.  However, I've never before used a low-rider, or a front rack of any other kind.

Had I kept Marianela, she would have gotten a front rack.  I've had handlebar-mounted baskets on other bikes but felt they mounted too high, which worsened the bikes' road-handling.  Given that most of the bikes I've used as commuters had more relaxed head angles and, hence, less responsive steering, than my road bikes, that was no small consideration.


So, I decided that I was going to mount some sort of fork-mounted rack on Vera.  I really wanted to use the lowrider mounts.  However, I was willing to consider other ways of mounting the rack.


I first considered the Velo Orange front racks because the materials and construction looked good, and their prices were relatively reasonable.  However, the VO Randonneur front rack wouldn't have worked, because the legs are too short to reach the low-rider and are not adjustable.  (Constructeur rack legs like the ones on the VO Randonneur mount higher on the fork than lowrider bars.)  


I also looked at the VO Pass Hunter.  Its struts bolt onto cantilever/V-brake bosses, which Vera has.  It's a somewhat larger and beefier version of the old Mafac racks that bolted onto the centerpull brake pivots.  Although I would have preferred to use the lowrider mount, I wasn't opposed to using a brake-mounted rack.  However, I wasn't willing to do something else the Pass Hunter would have necessitated:  drilling out my front fork crown.  

That crown is drilled and tapped for 5mm bolts, like the ones used on most water bottle cage and rear rack braze-ons.  The Pass Hunter has an integral mounting bolt that's meant to fit in a hole large enough for a brake pivot bolt.  I simply didn't have the heart to drill out that nice classy fork crown.


So, that left me with two other options, apart from getting a custom rack.  One would have been to buy one of the front racks made for mountain bikes:  They mount on the cantilever braze-ons but have an adjustable strap (like the kind found on Blackburn-style rear racks) through which the brake bolt passes.  The rack is cheap, and looked sturdy enough, but wouldn't have looked good on Vera.

So, with a sigh, I resigned myself to spending the money on a Nitto M-18.  I know, from using other Nitto parts, that their quality is second to none.  And, often, their prices aren't, either.  However, I was lucky enough to find a really good deal on one from Tree Fort Bikes in Ypsilanti, Michigan, which also matched another retailer's price on another item I bought at the same time.  


Still, the Nitto had the same problem as the VO Randonneur:  the struts weren't long enough to reach the lowrider mount. Luckily, the struts are replacable with longer ones that Nitto makes.  It seems that Rivendell is the only retailer that carries those struts (Even the Japanese retailers didn't have them!), so I placed my very first order with Riv.


The struts are really made to attach to a front dropout. 

So I cut them, and within fifteen minutes, I had the kind of rack I wanted on Vera.

It, like the Pass Hunter and Randonneur, is really intended as a handlebar bag support.  But I plan to use a basked on it or simply to strap my purse or shoulder bag on it when I ride to work.

I'm Back: Say Hello To Vera

The semester has begun and, as you probably can imagine, I've been busy.  To those of you who expressed concern for my safety:  Thank you.  I was hardly affected at all by Hurricane/Tropical Storm Irene, save for the fact that I had to stay indoors and miss a few days of cycling.  

Vera

But, as you've seen from my last couple of posts, I've begun to commute on Miss Mercian II--who will henceforth be known as Vera.  I could get all literary and scholarly on you and say that I named her after some character in a Restoration play, or some such thing.  Truth is, I decided on the name after listening to Pink Floyd's "The Wall."  You know the song I'm referring to. 


I'll write about her ride after I spend some more time on her saddle.  Her wheels and tires, as well as much of her other componentry, are heavier than those on Helene, my other Miss Mercian mixte.  Plus, the geometry is a bit different.  Finally, I'm still tweaking a few things on Vera.


Speaking of which:  I'm going to install a set of centerpulls on Helene.  I've always felt that they were better for bikes with long clearances.  They fit better around fenders, for one thing.  Plus, on bikes with long reaches (more than about 60 mm), traditional sidepulls feel mushy, while dual-pivot brakes (like the Tektro 556s Helene now has) seem to have an "all or nothing" feel to them.  It may well have something to do with the levers (the Tektro inverse levers that are styled like the old Mafac bar-end levers)  I'm using with them.  They seem more suited for a centerpull or cantilever brake.  


On the front centerpull,  I'm going to install one of those little TA-style front racks (made by Dia Compe and purchased from Velo Orange).  I could use a small basket or rack bag--or, of course a handlebar bag.  Perhaps I could also strap my purse or handbag to it.


There is a "casualty" in all of this.  Yes, you guessed it:  Marianela.  She went to a good home this week.  A woman who's my height and whose legs are the same length as mine is going to ride it to graduate school, which she is starting this week.  I realized that if I had simply given away or donated Marianela, she could have ended up with someone who was too short for her, or simply wouldn't have appreciated her.  By the same token, I didn't expect to get much money by selling her, and I didn't.  I asked for a low price in my Craig's List ad, and after the woman and I talked, I lowered that price and threw in a few "extras." 


I sold the bike with the Gyes Parkside saddle.  I wasn't going to part with the Brooks saddles on my Mercians, all of which are somewhat to significantly narrower than the Gyes.  And I had only one other saddle:  some cheap, hard and narrow no-name nylon thing with thin padding, which I know Marianela's new owner wouldn't have liked.  


I felt good about the transaction:  Marianela and her new rider are right for each other, I think.  And I think Vera will make my commutes more fun.

Pondering Marianela's Fate

I'm still debating what to do with Marianela.  I don't think selling her will bring enough money to make it worthwhile.  I suppose I still could donate her, which might be a halfway noble thing to do.  


But even that doesn't seem feasible, in a way. When I donated the Bridgestone Mountain Bike, at least it was a bike that its intended recipient--an immigrant who's working in construction, landscaping, restaurants or wherever else they need cheap labor--would be happy to get.  It's in a fairly common size, albeit a little bigger than the mountain bikes I used to ride.  And, not having suspension but having good, basic components, it makes a a good transport bike and is not overly complicated or esoteric.

However, mixte frames of any quality are hard to come by in Marianela's size.  My two Mercian mixtes are both custom frames--one (Helene) built for me and the other (Miss Mercian II) built for Pete, from whom I bought it.  Just as most clothing manufacturers still seem to think that women don't need inseams of more than 30 inches, bike makers seem to think either that there aren't any women over 5'6" or that those of us who are taller are just men with a couple of different parts.


So, the fact that it's a tall mixte is almost, by itself, reason to keep Marianela, even if Miss Mercian II becomes my commuter.  I could keep Marianela locked up outside, so the limited space in my apartment wouldn't be an issue.  And, as I mentioned earlier, I think that there will still be times when she'll come in handy.

If I keep her, though, I might get a pair of plastic fenders to replace the ones I took from her.  They wouldn't be as pretty as the fenders (Velo Orange Zeppelins) I had on the bike, but they might be more practical for a bike that's going to be parked on the streets and not well cared-for.  


I would definitely need to replace the seat, though.  Right now, she has the one that came with Miss Mercian II.  That seat is one I wouldn't ride in any case, and it's entirely unsuited for upright bars.  I suppose I could buy a Brooks B-67 or something similar for MMII and return the Gyes to Marianela.  But the Gyes is pretty well broken-in and I don't want to take the time to break in another saddle.  Besides, something cheap, and possibly made of synthetic materials, just might make more sense on a bike I'm going to leave on the streets.  

A Tipping Point And A Sea Change

I never saw this day coming...

Most of us, by the time we get to a certain age, make this declaration (perhaps with a sigh) over one thing or another.  Some of us never thought we'd be working in the jobs or careers in which we've found ourselves.  Others never thought we'd see our kids (fill in the blank).  Still others never thought they'd see the day they'd buy a non-American car--until, of course, they bought their Camries.  And then there are those who never,ever thought they'd eat raw fish and rice until they had sushi.

Well, I am having a "I never imagined this would happen" moment.  In my case, it's neither a good nor a bad thing.  All I can say is that it, looking back, it seems inevitable (Doesn't everything, in retrospect?) and I'm rather enjoying?

So what is this milestone in my life?  Well, I now have five bikes.  That ties my personal record, which I last achieved about a dozen years ago.  However, I don't have any of the five bikes I had then. 

You see, of the five bikes I now have, I acquired three specifically because of something that's happened in my life since I had those other five bikes. And I got the other two because of the ways I think about my riding and my bikes has changed since my life-changing event.

Some of you who have been following this blog (or my other) may have already guessed what's happened.  I reached a tipping point last week when Miss Mercian II arrived at my door:  I now own more "women's" than "men's" bikes. Specifically, I now have three mixte and two diamond frames.

Hey, we're talking about something even more important--at least for me--than the Senate going to the Republicans or the House to the Democrats.  I can already feel the ground shifting under me or, at least, the road conditions changing under my tires.  Yes, it really is Ariel's "sea change" in The Tempest.

All right, so I was being just a little hyperbolic.  (Is "a little hyperbolic" an oxymoron?)  But just today it occured to me "girls rule," if you will, in my bike stable.  Back when I had those other five bikes, if you had told me this day would come, I would have said that you've been inhaling helium out of inner tubes.

I had thought about selling or giving Marianela away. The former wouldn't bring me very much cash, really.  The latter option might be a nice thing to do.  I've already given one bike to an organization that helps immigrant workers; perhaps someone else could benefit from the largesse. 

Then again, I could leave her locked up outside and use her for errands that are really short or that take me to high-risk places.  She's serving that purpose now, and she has been my regular commuter and transportation bike.  So she'll get a lighter workload, which she might appreciate. And I could also use her as a loaner or guest bike.

But most important, if I want to keep that majority for which I've fought long and hard ;-), I've got to keep her!

Stripping Marianela

Oh, the indignities of being a commuter bike.  


It's a good thing I didn't complete the one and only course I ever took in gender studies.  Otherwise, Marianela and I would really be at it.  And, really, in spite of what you may have heard about me, I'm really not the argumentative type. ;-)


You see, she is in the process of donating parts to other bikes, namely my new Miss Mercian.  She insists I'm stripping her.  I mean, today she had to endure being seen without fenders along a busy thoroughfare.  Imagine how you would feel if lots of people were looking at you after somebody took your fenders.


Not only that, the--She's insisting that I say "her"--Gyes saddle is gone.  Actually, she traded it for the saddle that came with the new bike.  

It would have been one thing if I'd actually finished that gender studies course and taken others.  But can you imagine what Marianela would be saying if she'd read The Handmaid's Tale?  She'd tell me I was turning her into a Breeder or something.  


Well, I'm not going to give her a copy of THT because, truthfully, it sucks.  It has plot holes you can pedal your Surly Long Haul through, and I simply couldn't believe that women had, in essence, developed a collective case of Stockholm Syndrome--one of the basic premises of the book.


And, let's face it, if Marinela is protesting the loss of "her" fenders and saddle, she has a mind of her own.  I respect her for that, even if I disagree with her accusations!  

After Work: A Ride To The Concrete Plant

What kind of person goes to a factory after work?  (No, I'm not talking about The Factory!)


Better yet:  What kind of person rides her bike to a factory in a skirt and heels?


All right, you know the answer to the second question.  And if you know that, you know the answer to the first question, too.


Today, after work, I got on Marianela and didn't give a thought to anything else besides riding home.  However, as they say in the old country, a funny thing happened along the way.  I made a couple of "wrong" turns but still ended up within a few blocks of my place.  But I wouldn't get there for another couple of hours. 


The next thing I knew, I was climbing the stairs to the concrete ribbon that parallels the Randalls Island-bound traffic lanes on the RFK/Triborough Bridge.   From there, I pedalled the asphalt and concrete maze to the Bronx-bound spur of the bridge, where I rode along the metallic-hued water and through a couple of parks that were more crowded than they normally are on a weekday, even at this time of year.  


Somehow or another, I ended up at the Concrete Plant Park.  I didn't object, even though I had no say in it.  You see, Marianela wanted to go there.  I don't take her on such long rides very often, but I know that her primary motive wasn't to stretch her downtube and spokes.  Instead, I think she listened to Arielle, Helene and Tosca talk about the rides they took there, with me.  Marianela knows that they're all really pretty in their Mercian paint color number 57 with white lug striping.  But she was convinced, I think, that she would look even better than they did by the old concrete plant:

She may just be right.  (Did I actually say that?)  At any rate, it is one place where, I believe, she looks good.

  

Nocturne

Today I didn't go to a social function that I didn't really have to go to, but it might have been a good idea even though I might not have had the chance to see and talk with the people I really would've hoped to see there.  You probably have an event like that every year or two, or even more, especially if you work in the arts or "people-oriented" or "helping" areas like education.


Truth is, I was tired and wanted to sleep late.  I took care of a couple of errands and, at the very end of the day, took a quick spin out past PS 1 to the Long Island City piers.

The Long Island City Piers is one of the places to which I would bring a first-time visitor to New York.  I think the only  way one can get a view of the Manhattan skyline that's as good as the one from the LIC piers is to go to the Brooklyn Heights promenade, or to take the B, D, N or Q subway lines across the Manhattan Bridge or board the Staten Island Ferry in Staten Island.  However, each of those views is more limited in scope.  The wonderful thing about the view from the piers is that it's just about picture-postcard perfect, for only the narrowest part of the East River separates it from the United Nations, Chrysler Building (which has always been my favorite New York skyscraper) and Empire State building.  

Actually, the half mile width of the East River (which is really a tidal basin) wasn't stretching in front of me, exactly.  It was Marianela who got up-close and personal:

As I was sitting on one of the benches, munching on something called a "French wrap" (ham, Brie, Dijon mustard and a couple of other things) I recalled the times in my youth when I watched the sun set from the Christopher and 14th Street piers in Manhattan.  It was all lovely, although the view wasn't what I had today.  From those piers, you can look only toward the New Jersey side of the Hudson River.  That I sat there and gazed for as long as I did tells you that I was indeed intoxicated.  I can say that, as it was more than half of my lifetime ago!


So, instead of alcohol and illicit substances, I got "high" on the ride, the food I was eating and the view.  To all of you young people:  This may be what you have to look forward to in middle age!

Back in the day, I didn't know about the view from the Long Island City waterfront.  Then again, the piers were falling apart and the neighborhoods around them were a mix of grimly entropying industrial and residential areas.  That's also a pretty fair description of  what the 14th and Christopher Street piers, and their immediate environs, were like .  

As it got dark, I started to feel chilly and I hadn't brought a sweater or jacket with me.  That was all right:  I left feeling peaceful yet energized with twilight images of the city I reached on my bike.

Basket Case

Nearly two weeks ago, "Velouria" of Lovely Bicycle! wrote about parking her Gazelle commuter bike outdoors.


Well, I've been keeping Marianela (a 1979 Schwinn LeTour III turned into a "fixie" with a fixed/free "flip-flop" rear hub) outside for about a month, after keeping it indoors during one of the snowiest winters this area has ever had.  While Marianela is probably not as heavy as "Velouria"'s Dutch bike, and therefore not as difficult to maneuver in and out of my apartment, it's still more convenient to have the bike waiting outside for me, especially if I'm taking it on a short errand.


I've kept bikes outdoors before.  But, today, I was reminded of one of the consequences of doing so:

Now, I've had all sorts of things left in my front basket or on my rear rack:  beverage bottles, fast-food bags and containers, condom wrappers and things even less mentionable.  But nothing so far has been quite as interesting as this Lincoln hubcap.


One man who chanced by as I unlocked the bike stopped and looked.  We both had a good laugh.  I mean, what else could we do?  


I left the cap on a nearby fire hydrant.  When I returned tonight, it was gone.

Three Ladies

On the day of Oprah's last show, it seems somehow fitting to write about "women's," "ladies'", "girls'" or "female" bikes. 


Yesterday morning, on my way to work, I had the feeling I was going to see something interesting.  And I did, only four blocks from my apartment:

Do I sense some jealousy from Marianela?  Just look at the way she's standing there and looking at this cute young thing.  Well, all right, she's not so young.  Even if the style and rust didn't tell me so, I know this bike has to be about 40 years old, possibly even older.  Then again, they say "forty is the new twenty."  


But I know the bike has to be forty, or even older, because of its style.  When was the last time you saw top and frame tubes that looked like these?

The top tube is really a pair of twin parallel tubes, as one finds on a mixte frame. But it has that long, sinuous curve found on the old Schwinn "Hollywood" and other "girls'" bikes from the 1960's and earlier.


Another give-away to the bike's age is the color:  a kind of metallic blue-green that was popular during the early and mid-1960's, at least on kids' bikes.


It was also a color Rollfast used on many of its bikes throughout its history.  In a previous post, I wrote about this brand, which was made right next to the site of the former World Trade Center.


Today I had a day off because none of my classes had exams.  And it was like an early summer day, at least weather-wise.  So, in spite of waking up late and doing laundry, among other things, I was able to spend a couple of hours with Helene:

I think she wanted to show off her new accessories more than anything.  Now she has a Carradice Barley.  What girl doesn't like a new bag?  

Plus, she has pink Cinelli cork tape.  I had to replace the tape I'd originally installed after I mounted the shift levers on the Velo Orange handlebar pods.  

Even when she's showing off, she's still a proper lady.  And she's an even better one when I ride with her!

After Work: Following The Darling Buds Of May

Last night, after work, I rode to Fort Totten. It's become one of my favorite places to "decompress" because of scenes like this:  

At the end of a sunny day that warmed up considerably, clouds gathered at the end of the day.  Still, I find the view rather striking.  Steel suspension bridges are great for that:  they glow in the rays of the setting sun as well as they reflect the grays and blues of the bay and sky.


Apparently, other people felt the same way:

This place even seems to calm down my bikes.  All right, I don't think Helene has been there yet.  Her turn is coming.  Arielle and Tosca feel peaceful yet energized by that place; Marianela likes it after carting me and my books at the end of the day:

She leadeth me beside the still waters...All right, I won't blaspheme something some of you may still revere.  Besides, the waters weren't exactly still.  She didn't lead me down a straight and narrow path, either.  (Now tell me:  You didn't think I did straight and narrow, did you?)  What she led me to, instead, was a trail of the darling buds of May:

I'm greatly relieved that they're not rose petals.  Love would be great right about now.  Marriage, not so much.  Besides, as curious as I am, I don't follow every trail I encounter. I guess that's one of those things that happens when you get older.


I'm happy that they're the buds of cherry blossoms.  It seems that there are more of those trees in this city's parks and in front of people's houses every year.  I've always loved them; few things say "spring!" more than that bright pink color.  I don't remember seeing them when I was a kid:  Is the planting of them in this city and country a recent phenomenon?


Anyway...I followed that trail of petals.  They led me home.  And I fell into a very restorative sleep.

Rainy Day Projects

It's supposed to rain on and off today.  I suppose I could play chicken with the rain again.  However, I somehow feel that I wouldn't be so lucky in daring the weather as I was in chancing it.  Actually, I wasn't even chancing it:  I just had enough dumb luck to be able to ride between rainfalls.

If it does rain, I'll probably do some bike work I'd been planning.  Maybe I'll even build the wheels I had planned for Marianela.  I'm not using any fancy components on it, save for the DT spokes.  (They're going to connect Sun CR-18 rims to IRO hubs which look like they're made by Formula.) But I think that, and the care I'll take in building it, will make it a better wheel than some of the stuff they sell on e-Bay.  

What else?  When I swap the wheels, I'm going to put street tires on it rather than the cyclo-cross tires I've been riding.  They still look good, so I'll save them for next winter.

I also just got a pair of shifter pods from Velo Orange.  Those aren't for Marianela, though; they're for Helene.  I was going to get a pair of Paul Thumbies.  But I found out that the road version works only on the part of the bar that bulges near the clamp.  And the mountain version would be too narrow to fit on the grip area of the Velo Orange Porteurs that Helene has.  The VO pods are made to fit either road or mountain bars, and they'll work with the Dia Compe Silver shift levers that are on the bike.  And I just happen to have a pair of cable guides I saved from the last set of Ergo levers I used.

Now...Which do I do first?  Of course Helene is more fun to work with (not to mention ride); Marianela is my "beast."  But Marianela's rear wheel popped a spoke a couple of weeks ago.  That's usually a sign that a wheel needs to be rebuilt or replaced.  Then again, no spokes have broken since.  I find that on dying wheels, spokes tend to break pretty frequently.

Plus, it's been quite a while since I built a pair of wheels.  I used to do it in one of the shops in which I worked, and I've built a few wheels for myself.  But since I haven't done it in a while, I wonder whether my skills have deteriorated?  I know how to do it; I just wonder whether i've lost the "touch" I might have (or merely imagined) I had.

Oh well.  This is probably one of those decisions I should make after I've made (and eaten!) a crepe or two.

To Do: Build New Rear Wheel

A dreary, rainy, chilly day. Amazing, how spoiled one can get after a couple of nice days.  But it's officially spring. And  we had a "Super Full Moon" the other night.  No wonder my late night-early morning ride didn't seem so dark!


Tomorrow it's supposed to clear up.  I'll ride to work and, hopefully, for a bit after that. 


I'm going to build a new rear wheel for the rear of Marianela.  A couple of spokes have broken on the one I have.  I think it had to do with the build quality of the wheel.  So I'm going to build with another flip-flop hub (Formula sealed bearing under the IRO brand.) and a Sun CR-18 rim.  Normally, I prefer Mavic rims, and that's what Arielle, Tosca and Helene have.  But Mavic doesn't seem to be making anything in the 27 inch diameter these days, and I don't want to take chances with used rims. The alternatives are Weinmann (which I used to like, but seem to get mixed reviews these days), Alex and a couple of "mystery" brands.


I know, 700 C is the standard diameter.  That's what all of my Mavic rims are.  But Marianela came with 27" wheels, and the rear brake is a long-reach centerpull with its pads about as far down as they'll go.  I really don't want to get a longer brake, as all that seem available are BMX-type brakes, which wouldn't work well on the bike or with the levers I'm using.  Plus, in spite of its length, the rear brake is powerful.  That has to do with the long straddle cable which wraps around the lug that joins the stays to the top tube.


The wheel will probably cost more than the bike did.  But I figure that it's still cheaper than buying a new hybrid or low-end road bike.  I've done that before, and within a year I end up replacing all of the parts.  Plus, for a heavier bike, I like the way Marianela rides.  

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.  

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?

Agoraphobia Opening, or Opening Agoraphobia

Marianela's ready for another commute:

She might be showing her age.  But, like girls of any age, she likes new accessories--especially a new bag:

And she especially likes it if the bag is retro:  real retro, like the OYB bag I described in an earlier post.


Down my street to start another day:

You can tell there's not much left of autumn.  Every day, the wind sweeps more leaves off the branches.  It leaves the trees more barren, and sometimes even a bit forlorn-looking.  And it exposes them to the expanse of sky:  a gray sky:

It's a bit like my morning commute:  the road and the world open before me, if only for moments. But some days what unfolds is a Mercator Projection of concrete lines and angles puncuated by windows filled with the ashen sky.  


At least, at the end of the days like that, I can ride away from it.  That was always the second attraction of cycling for me.  The first is to pedal into the open waves, whether they are in front of or within me.

Just What This Girl Needs: Another Bag!

Back in the day, I carried a boxy gray canvas shoulder bag.  I bought it from the sort of store that seems not to exist, at least in Manhattan, anymore:  Its merchandise was too disparate even to qualify the place as a "variety store" or flea market.  In fact, just in sheer size, or lack thereof, the place could hardly even qualify as a store of any kind:  It was just a few feet by a few feet of space that contained bins and a counter. And there didn't seem to be more than one of any particular item.


The shop or store or whatever you want to call it was on or near Canal Street.  The bag, if I remember correctly, cost 75 cents.  On its flap a serial number and a cross of the kind found on a few countries' flags were stenciled.  It had no stiffeners, so, when empty, it could be folded small enough to fit into a small pocket of a backpack or pannier.


I carried that bag through my last two years of college.  Then I took it with me on my first trip to Europe, where it served me nicely for carrying my camera and notebook when I was off the bike and wandering the back alleys of various towns and cities on foot.  When I lived in Paris, I used it to carry any number of things. And, after I returned to the States, I found that the bag served as a kind of musette.


When I first started carrying that bag, it wasn't socially acceptable for men to carry shoulder bags.  Then, a few men  would start to carry what others would refer to as "fag bags" and, later, "man purses."  And my particular bag, by the time I finally wore it through, would come to be known as a "Swiss Army bags."  When I first bought the bag, there was no benefit--at least from a marketing standpoint (What did I just say?)--to be derived from asociating it, or any product, with the Helvetian military.  Only those who actually worked in the outdoors (like rangers) and dedicated hikers and campers knew what a "Swiss Army Knife" was, much less used it.  


Fast-forward three decades.  Only stylized near-imitations of that bag are to be found now--at least, in any place where I shop.   I have, however, found something very similar, only better--and vintage, to boot.

I bought it from Out Your Backdoor (OYB).   The package in which it was shipped included, among other things, OYB's newspaper/magazine that reads like the copy on the label of the old Dr. Bronner's soap bottle if it had been written by hippies-turned-survivalists. The subjects include any and all outdoor activities from gardening and tree-planting to off-road biking, and music, literature and art from independently-produced "folk" artists.  Some of those writers, composers and performers wouldn't give themselves such labels, or may not even be aware that they exist.  It's not the sort of stuff people learn how to do in MFA programs.


Those stories, songs, drawings and such are a bit like the bag I bought:  Some might believe them to be too unrefined.  But if you like things with, or that can develop, a patina, you might like some of them.


In other words, the bag I bought from them fits perfectly into their ethos and aesthetic:  They're canvas with leather bottoms and fasteners and look used.  But they're not "treated":  The bags are military surplus, or at least look and feel the part.  


To these bags are added tabs and straps that allow them to be used as bike bags.  They're billed as "seven way" bags.  I tried three of those ways, and might try a fourth.


As a saddlebag, it would be good for a day ride.  It fits in a similar way to the Velo Orange Croissant bags and the Berthoud bag on which it is modeled, and seems to have about half again as much carrying capacity as either of those bags, but about half  as much as (or less than) a Carradice Barley.  Supposedly the OYB bag can hold three wine bottles.  But you didn't hear that from me, a non-drinker.


OYB provides three tan leather straps similar to the kind that come with the Carradice bags.  They work best on bag loops like the ones found on the Brooks B17 saddle, but can also be attached to the saddle rails.  As the bag is longer than its VO/Berthoud counterpart, its bottom may rub on the tire of a bike with a small frame, or one on which less than the traditional "fistful of seatpost" is exposed.  Of course, if you use a rack or fenders, or have a larger frame or more than a fistful of seatpost, this will not be a problem.


Also, the bag will install in somewhat of a convex shape if you mount it on saddlebag loops.  That takes away some of its capacity, but there's still enough room for almost anything you'd need for a day ride.

Without a support, the bag is surprisingly steady.  That may have to do with the structure of the bag which, while it has no stiffeners, holds some semblance of a distinct shape due to its thick canvas and leather.


The bag also makes a nice small shoulder tote in which you can hold a wallet, keys, pen, cellphone and a few other items, such as a hairbrush and compact.  I'm guessing that it would also be good as a handlebar bag  or small pannier for a small, light load, though I haven't tried using it for those purposes.  


Best of all, this bag is less expensive than just about any other saddle, handlebar or shoulder bag.  OYB will install a leather "blinky" strap for an extra five dollars.  Whether or not you choose that option, you'll get a bag that's sturdier than most others available today and has the cool "retro" vibe that looks great on vintage bikes, as well as current steel bikes.


I decided to try the bag on Tosca for the heck of it.  But ultimately it's going to Marianela, as I think its brown leather and brownish olive drab canvas will look nice on her.