The Ultimate Rain Gear?

Rain began to fall just as I locked my bike to one of the campus bike racks.

It seems that all week, I have been playing chicken with the rain.  The other day, I ran headlong into a line of showers when I took the Trek on its first commute ride.  At least, today I was riding Arielle, with her full fenders and flap.

Days like this get me to thinking about what might be the best gear for biking in the rain.  Some might say I found it while web-surfing when I should have been doing other things:

From: Speed Studio Designs

Hmm...I guess it's not bad if you're not worried about aerodynamics.  Then again, why would you be?

When I first saw the illustration, I thought someone had crossed a motor scooter with a golf cart.  Come to think of it, someone may have done just that.  Or, if no one has, I may have given someone a ridiculous idea.

Judging from the illustration, the bike shield looks only slightly larger than my first helmet!

 

 

A Reflection On My Treks Past

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taking The Trek To Work

Today I commuted on the Trek 560 I just built.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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