Tosca's Face Lift

This season has been quite a coming-out party--for me and my bikes.

A few posts ago, I introduced you to Dee-Lilah, my new Mercian Vincitore Special.  She's a gift to myself for a round-number birthday that's coming in July.  

The other day, I told you about my first ride with my new-old (well, not-really-so-old) bike:  Tosca, my Mercian fixie.  A while back, I sent her for a repair and to change the threadless steerer to a threaded one so I could use a prettier stem. All of that, of course, meant, Tosca got a facelift--a refinish.



Previously, she was coated entirely with Mercian's "flip-flop" finish (#57)--which Arielle, my Mercian Audax, still has---and white pinstriping.  I wasn't tired of it, but I decided that while I wanted to keep all of my Mercians in the same color "family", I didn't want them to look the same.

So I had Tosca re-finished in Mercian's Purple Polychromatic (#9) with head tube and seat panel in Dusky Pink Pearl (#49).  The cut-outs in the lugs and fork crown are also finished in that dusky pink hue, and the lugs are outlined in white.

Most of the parts were on the bike before the re-paint.  The exceptions are the stem, brakes, saddle, toe clips and chain (which I would have replaced at some point anyway).  Here's the "spec sheet":

Frame and fork--Reynolds 631.  Threaded steerer.

--Steering:

• Chris King headet:  This threadless set was overhauled by Mercian and was converted with King's threaded 2Nut adapter.
• Nitto Pearl Stem, 12 cm.
• Nitto Model 177 "Noodle" handlebars

--Seating:

• Brooks Team Professional Special Edition (L'eroica 2015)
• Nitto "Crystal Fellow" Seat post

--Wheels:

• Phil Wood hubs.  "Flip-flop" (fixed-free) 36 hole rear, high-flange track 32 hole front
• Mavic Open Pro rims, Velox rim tape
• DT Champion spokes
• Continental Grand Prix 4 season tires

--Drivetrain:

• Sugino RD 2 cranks (130mm BCD), 170mm, with All-City 47T chainring (1/8")
• Phil Wood bottom bracket, 103mm
• MKS Urban Platform pedals w/MKS "basket" toe clips and Velo Orange Grand Cru straps
• Phil Wood stainless cog, 17T, 1/8"
• Shimano freewheel, 18T
• SRAM PC-7X chain 

--Brakes:

• Dia Compe BRS 101 in gold (I couldn't resist) w/ Kool Stop salmon pads
• Cane Creek SCR-5 levers

--Other Items:

• Newbaum's Cloth tape, Eggplant, w/Rustines (like Velox) plugs
• Andrew King "Iris" stainless steel cages

(The bag is one of several I use that were made by Ely Rodriguez, of Ruth Works.  I move them around among my bikes, as I need them.)

Welcome back, Tosca!

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. 

There's Nothing Like The First

Whenever I ride my Mercians, I find that I've actually ridden faster than I thought I was riding and, even when riding on rough stretches or climbing into the wind, I don't feel beat-up or worn-down at the end.  This is particulary true of Arielle, my Mercian Audax.

It's a bike meant for longer rides, hence the model name.  With such a purpose in mind, the bike is  designed with a somewhat longer wheelbase and slightly shallower angles than a dedicated racing bike.  On the other hand, its geometry is tighter than that of a full-load touring bike or even many randonneur bikes.   It also has, according to my specification, a shorter top tube than is typically found on touring (and even some racing) frames in Arielle's size (56 cm center-to-center) to accomodate the rather long legs and short torso I have for a person of my height.

When I was ordering Arielle--the first Mercian I bought--I was going to specify 16mm diameter seat stays.  At the time, Mercian was still offering 12mm on some models, including the Audax.  Hal Ruzal at Bicycle Habitat talked me into going with the 12mm, in part because that's what he has on one of his Mercians, which is very similar to Arielle. 

I'm glad he did.  Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear, has 16mm stays.  It feels stiffer, but that may have to do with the geometry of the bike rather than the stay diameter.   Arielle, however, never felt flexy or noodly to me.  Yet those 12mm stays, I believe, absorb more road shock than the thicker stays, which--I'm guessing--is the reason why I never feel "beat up" after riding her.  

I also am glad Hal--and the folks at Mercian--convinced me to buy an Audax rather than one of the other models.  I didn't want a full-on touring bike:  If I ever do another multi-day tour, it will probably be with a light load.  On the other hand, I didn't want another racing-specific bike:  I'd owned and ridden a number of those and felt as if I were past being even a "wannabe", let alone an actual racer.

On this bike, I can ride fast when I want to, but--more important to me at this point in my life--I can simply enjoy the ride.  It has never felt like a "compromise":  It's simply a bike that fits well and feels good. 

Because Arielle fits and rides so well, specifying my next two custom Mercians--Tosca, my fixed-gear and Helene, one of my Miss Mercians--easy.  Tosca's geometry is just a bit tighter; Helene's dimensions were tweaked to allow wider tires and fenders. 

Vera, my other Miss Mercian, is the only one of my Mercians that wasn't custom-built for me:  I bought it second-hand.  So, while its fit is a bit different from that of the others (the imaginary top tube length is 15mm longer than on Arielle or Helene and 10 mm longer than on Tosca, and the chain stays are about 15 mm longer than the ones on Helene), my experience with my other Mercians served as a good guideline in helping me choose the right stem length and such.  Overall, it has the cushiest ride of my "Mercs" and, not surprisingly, Tosca has the stiffest and most responsive. 

All of them feel great, but, as the saying goes, there's nothing like the first.  And mine (at least in terms of my Mercians) is Arielle.

At The End Of Today's Limits

Well, the thunderstorms we had yesterday got rid of the heat and humidity--for a couple of hours this morning, anyway.   To be fair, although it turned into a warm, sticky day, it wasn't nearly as bad as yesterday.  Still, I overdressed:  After going to Parisi's for a couple of snacks to take on the ride, I changed from the tank top I'd been wearing, and intended to wear, on my ride for a heavier, three-quarter sleeve shirt.  At least the shirt is cotton, and kinda cute (or so I've been told).


Anyway, it felt good to get out earlier than I had been riding, and to ride with Lakythia.  She says that today I pushed her past an old limit of hers.  It was funny to hear that:  For a moment, I though of myself riding in a studded leather bustier.  Then again, I've never owned one of those, and finding one to fit me probably wouldn't be easy!


What she meant was that we went on a longer ride than any other she'd taken in a long while.  The funny thing is that I wouldn't have known that unless she'd told me:  She was tired, but so was I.  It was the kind of day that would have tired out just about anybody who was riding five or more hours and wasn't a Cat III racer.


I do have one excuse for being tired:  I rode in a fixed gear.  I don't mean to blame the bike;  Tosca, when I pedal her, just wants to keep on going.  But I simply didn't have the option of shifting gears, which I would have liked later in the ride.  When you can't shift gears, even ascending a ramp to a bridge walkway can seem like a real climb.


I find that it's always late in a ride of two hours or more (depending on the season and my condition) that I notice the difference between the way my bikes feel.  Arielle and Helene remain comfortable and, like Tosca, just want to keep on going.  


However, I feel that of all of my bikes, Arielle can "carry" me the most at the end of a ride:  I can just find a comfortable gear and she'll get me home.  Plus, the drop bars allow me to find a position that's comfortable.  Paradoxically, sometimes I want to ride in the "drops" when I'm tired, because the efficiency of the position helps the bike to maximize whatever energy I still have left.  Of course, I can also do that on Tosca, but I can't shift to a lower gear.  On the other hand, on Helene, riding on the forward position of the Porteur bars isn't as efficient as riding on drops.  Then again, if I want to, I can ride upright on Helene, which I can't do on Arielle or Tosca.


Of course, I didn't explain all of this to Lakythia, mainly because I wasn't thinking about it while we were riding.  However, if she wants to know more about such things, or turn into a gearhead, I can help her with that, too.  For now, I'm content to have found someone else with whom I enjoy riding.

Riding To Ride, Again

A month has passed since I came home from visiting my parents in Florida.  Today I did something I hadn't done since returning: I took a bike ride that wasn't a commute or errand, or wasn't in some other way utilitarian.

I got on the bike with no specific plan other than to pedal toward Rockaway Beach and do whatever came next.  Rockaway is about fifteen miles (25 km) from my apartment.  So, I reasoned, even if I pedaled there and back, it was a reasonable ride--especially if I rode it in a fixed gear.

So out Tosca, my Mercian fixie, came.  I had another reason for riding her today:  I had just cleaned up Arielle, my Mercian Audax, and Vera, my green Mercian mixte.   Part of the clean-up included installing new chains and cassettes. I hadn't yet done the same for Tosca, though I plan to do so.  (I probably won't change the chain, though:  1/8" chains don't wear nearly as quickly as 3/32" chains  used with derailleurs.)  I figured that there was still some slop on the streets, so if I got some in Tosca's drivetrain, it will give me incentive to clean her up.  

Oh, I had one other reason to ride Tosca:  the course would be flat.

Riding her felt great.  So great, in fact, that I didn't turn around at Rockaway Beach.  Instead, I decided to ride along the ocean from Rockaway to Riis Park and across the bridge to Brooklyn, where I'd continue pedaling along the ocean to Coney Island.  

It was a lovely ride in the late-afternoon sun (I woke up late today!) even though for most of it, I was pedaling into 25-35 KPH wind, which blew out of the west.  Of course, there was something else in the west:

I would ride alongside that sunset from Coney Island all the way up to the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge.  When I reached the end of the promenade, the sky was darkening and I reached into my seat bag for my lights.  I figured I would ride to Greenwood Cemetery (about 3 km) or Barclays Center (another 3 km) and decide whether to dodge the drunk trust fund kids who, I figured, would be tumbling out of bars and onto the streets and bike lanes of Williamsburg.

At Barclays, I decided to continue, as I was feeling good and traffic had been lighter than I expected.  Best of all, I didn't see any of the drunk trust fund kids tumbling ouot of bars.  Maybe it was too early for that (though, I must say, I've seen them not long after noon on weekends!).  There weren't even many cyclists on the Kent Avenue bike lane, especially given how mild the weather was for this time of year.

So...I did 85 kilometers today.  Yes, they were flat.  But I did them on a fixed.  And I rode into the wind for about 25 of those kilometers.  Oh, why am I counting anything?  I had a really nice ride. I'm happy.

When A Local Ride Turns Into A Journey

The other day, before I wrote my 9/11 commemorative piece, I took a ride:  a ramble through Queens and Brooklyn on Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear.

My ride included some familiar streets and sights.  But I also took in some streets--or, more precisely, segments of them--I hadn't ridden before.

One of those thoroughfares, Carroll Street, spans the breadth of Brooklyn in two sections.  The first begins at Hoyt Street, near the borough's downtown hub and cuts through the brownstone neighborhoods of Carroll Gardens and Park Slope on its way to Prospect Park.  On the other side of the Park, Carroll continues along through neighborhoods less known to tourists:  Prospect-Lefferts Gardens, Crown Heights and Ocean Hill-Brownsville.  It was along that second section, in Crown Heights, that I chanced upon these houses: 

They combine the brownstone facades one sees on the other side of the park with Victorian-style cornices--and rounded, almost turret-like fronts I've seen only in Ridgewood and a couple of other Queens neighborhoods.  That block of Carroll--between Kingston and Albany Avenues--lies in the heart of the Hasidic neighborhood of the Heights.

After I took the photos, I walked Tosca (Carroll is a one-way street) to check out a store where I didn't think I'd buy anything but I wanted to see because it's unlike any in my neighborhood of Astoria, or in most other places.

Turns out, the place moved around the corner, to Kingston Avenue.  I peeked in; the young man working in it knew full well that I wasn't from the community and therefore wouldn't buy the mezuzahs (Star of David medallions found on the doorways of homes), prayer shawls or other items ultra-Orthodox Jews use in their daily lives and worship.  But he didn't seem to mind my being there and we exchanged greetings of "shalom" on my way in and out.

As I turned to my left, I noticed an alleyway in the middle of the block.  

The first painting, closest to the street, seems like a conventional representation of a Torah lesson--until you look closely.  But the sky-blue background gives the scene an almost ethereal feel and the rabbi's expression makes him seem, simultaneously, like a relative and an ancestor, as if the kids might be in a room with him or that he might have come to them in a dream or vision.

To their left were two other murals.  Is the girl--woman?--in awe or fear?  I couldn't help but to think about Edvard Munch's "The Scream"--which, I'm sure, the artist intended.  But is it a scream of ecstasy or terror, or something else?  I might've asked the same questions about the man in the other mural which, of course, evokes Van Gogh's "Starry Night."

Even though the compositions echo (pun intended) Munch and Van Gogh, I felt that the artist's real inspiration may have been one of the greatest Jewish modern artists:  Marc Chagall.  At least, the colors--themselves and the way they play off, with and against each other--reminded me of his paintings and the stained-glass windows he created for the cathedral of Reims, France, to replace the ones blown out during World War II.  In fact, in walking past the murals with Tosca, I felt as if I were in an open-air temple or synagogue.

On the other side of Kingston is another alley, with this portrait by the same artist:

I thought it was interesting how that artist used blue differently from the way it's used in the painting of the Torah lesson.  Here, it makes the man--whom I assume to be, if not a rabbi, then at least some sort of elder in the community.  

It never ceases to amaze me how taking a random turn during a ride in my city can take me on a journey!

Tosca and the Pursuit of Young Love

You know what they say about the Spring...specifically, about where a young man's fancy turns:

Here is the young man:

After I snapped this, a friend of his happened by:

Of course, not all were in pursuit of love at Coney Island.  Some, apparently, already have it.

And Tosca was taking it all in:

which is odd, given that Tosca (Puccini's, anyway) was never known for simply taking things in.

How Routine Was This Repair?

Have you ever felt yourself just slogging and grinding your way on your bike for no discernible reason?  Then you realize your rear tire was slowly losing air.  Or your chain needed oil even more than the salad everyone thought was dry and lifeless.  Or that some part or another was out of alignment or adjustment.

I had such an experience on Thursday.  I wasn’t feeling very well, but I thought I could shake my lethargy by going on a ride, however short.  I started in a direction that could take me to Coney Island or the Canarsie Pier; either would have been a manageable distance and, if I needed to do so, I could take the subway home.

As I approached the Pulaski Bridge, I found myself making a left turn Jackson Avenue, then Thomson Avenue, which meant Canarsie was in the cards.  It was the sort of not-quite-conscious decision I often make on rides.  That was fine; I hadn’t gone that way in a while.  Tosca seemed to be rolling along fine through the industrial area of Long Island City and Maspeth, the now-Polish and Albanian enclaves of Ridgewood and some almost-suburban stretches of Glendale.  

Then, after descending the hill from a cemetery in Queens to another in Brooklyn, I started to feel like a paraplegic grasshopper pedaling in syrup.  I glanced down at the bike. Nothing seemed wrong.  Must be the engine, not the chassis, I thought.  In other words, I thought perhaps I was less well or in worse shape than I suspected.

Just after crossing Atlantic Avenue, I realized that the human machinery, however out-of-tune, was not to blame.  I saw the telltale sag in my rear tire. So, I did what I often do when I don’t hear a pop or a hiss:  I pumped the tire, figuring I could pedal the rest of the way to the pier and, if necessary, fix the problem there.

The plan almost worked.  I got to a flea market about three-quarters of the way to the pier.   I wended through aisles of polyester sundresses in screaming hues that make “billboard” jerseys seem as if they were designed by Brooks Brothers  (I’ve never seen a man who actually looks good in one!), electronic equipment that was discarded before the guys trying to sell it were born, CDs of bands you’ve never heard of or don’t want to hear again, and all matter of the most cheaply-made watches, appliances and accessories imaginable.  Of course, I didn’t buy anything.  But I had to pump my tire again:  It had lost about half of its pressure.

The air was just barely enough to get me to the Pier.  Then I pumped the tire to hear a hiss growing more insistent.  Turns out, a small hole in the tire’s sidewall was opening. 

I knew there was no point to fixing it:  No patch would be strong enough to keep the tube from blowing out like a bubble from a piece of gum.  So, I took the L train back.  Oh well.

After replacing the tire and tube, I took Tosca out on the same route yesterday.  Now I was riding the bike I’d always loved.  And I felt better.

And yesterday’s ride—Point Lookout, again—on Arielle felt even better.  In fact, it was nearly perfect: About the only time I noticed Arielle (I hope she doesn’t feel rejected) was when I shifted or braked.  The rest of the time, I felt as if I were sailing the air under the cloudless sky on a day that could hardly have felt more like the first of summer. 

I did nothing to maintain or adjust Arielle before the ride.  But somehow I felt I was still riding a wave, if you will, from replacing the tire on Tosca. 

What sorts of routine maintenance and repair make the most difference in the way your bikes ride?

I Couldn't Put The Cat In My Bag

Yesterday, I managed to get out for a late-day ride:  a couple of hours spinning and making random turns on Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear.

Although I had clip-on lights in my rear bag, I didn't want to ride after dark. So, when the sun--which, early in the afternoon had emerged from a days-long absence--tinged the sky orange, I took a shortcut back to my place through the deserted (as they are on weekends) industrial areas of Maspeth and Long Island City.

As I pedaled up a street nestled between rows of warehouses, I saw what looked like a furry shadow slinking by a construction site.  It leaped onto the crumbling brick stoop of a house that seemed to be constructed of peeling shingles.  And I heard...

Meow.  Yes, that furry shadow was feline--but not, I would soon find out, feral.  I stopped and, after I looked into its eyes for a split-second, he (by that time, I had decided  he was male) made a tiptoed sprint toward me.

I rubbed my fingers on his head.  He rubbed against my ankle.  I stroked his back.  He closed his eyes and rolled, a little, on his side.

I really knew he wasn't feral when I picked up my leg and dismounted my bike.  That motion frightens off most cats (and many other animals).  But my new friendly feline acquaintance took a step closer to me.  Finally, I squatted and picked him up.  He didn't resist.  In fact, he curled himself on my shoulder and chest.


He stayed there as I lifted my right leg over Tosca and re-mounted.  I pedaled down the deserted street, crossed another and increased my cadence just a little when he started to squirm.  


Hmm...I know that even when I was at my best, my pedal stroke was never as smooth Jacques Anquetil's or Stephen Roche's.  Still, I tried to make my motions more fluid, if slower.  The cat squirmed more, and jumped off.

But he didn't run away from me.  In fact, he almost seemed to be waiting for me to dismount and pick him up again.  Which I did.  And I remounted the bike.  And pedaled--slowly--again.  He squirmed, but never clawed me.  Not only was he not feral; he had obviously never been on a bike before!

So I picked him up again and walked, with him on my left shoulder and my right hand clutching Tosca's stem, back to the construction site. He looked, rather forlornly, as I said goodbye. (If only I could have photographed him!)

As I left, I noticed a bowl and plate by the construction site: Somebody has been feeding him.  Still, I am somewhat tempted to go back--even if my landlady really means what she said about a two-cat limit (which I had to beg for when I moved in; she only wanted to allow one).  Plus, I have to wonder how my cats would take a new addition to the "family".  Max is friendly and curious; he seemed to be thinking "Great!  A new playmate!" the day I brought Marlee home. But Marlee is still fearful and skittish; she seems to come out of hiding only for me. 

From Boyz on the Hoods

I could go back with the LeTour, which has baskets on it, and a blanket or pillow.  And maybe the landlady, if and when she comes in, won't see him:  He is a smoky gray color, which means he could hide fairly easily.  Plus, Max would like him:  He likes everybody, or so it seems.  As for Marlee...