In the middle of the journey of my life, I am--as always--a woman on a bike. Although I do not know where this road will lead, the way is not lost, for I have arrived here. And I am on my bicycle, again.
I am Justine Valinotti.
11 February 2013
10 February 2013
Bontrager Race Lite: Reminiscing About Heidi After A Blizzard
Well, the blizzard wasn't quite as bad here as it was on Long Island, or in Connecticut or Massachusetts. Still, we had around 10 inches (25 cm) of snow in my neighborhood.
The ephemerally alabaster landscape surrounding me got me to thinking about Heidi.
I'm not referring to Johanna Spyri's novel or the movies made from it. I'm also not reminiscing about an Alpine romance from my youth.
Rather, I am going to talk about this Heidi:
That is what I named her. She was one of the first of my bikes I named. And, being a true mountain bike, the name fit her.
She was built around a Bontrager Race Lite frame. Before Trek bought him out, Keith Bontrager was building Race Lites in California from a combination of butted chrome-moly tubings.
The way he built those frames was all but unique: Instead of brazing frame tubes into lugs or fillets, he TIG-welded them with gussets. While not as elegant as lugged or fillet-brazed frames, they were about as strong as any joints could be with thin chrome-moly steel tubing.
That construction, and the frame's geometry, made for what might have been the sweetest ride anyone ever achieved on a hardtail steel mountain bike. I never knew that a mountain bike could be so responsive until I mounted the Race Lite. It had that resilient, even smooth, ride associated with some of the best steel road frames.
Keith Bontrager was a Physics major in college, and he said he never took aesthetics into consideration when designing or building his bikes or components. Still, I always felt that Heidi was attractive, in a very rugged sort of way. As much as I love purple and green, I liked her look even better after this makeover:
When I changed the fork, I changed the decals (Bontrager made replacements readily available) as well as some of the accessories. The bike's original build, which you see in the first photo, consisted of parts that came off Heidi's predecessor: a Jamis Dakota I upgraded as I wore out the original parts.
Mind you, I liked the Dakota and rode the heck out of it. I might not have bought another mountain bike had I not gotten such a good deal on the Race Lite frame. I gave the Dakota frame to someone who, I think, sold it for a "fix".
Anyway, I rode Heidi for five years. Then, I drifted away from off-road riding and (reluctantly) sold her to someone out west who promised to ride her in the hills, where she belonged. I simply could not bear the thought of turning her into a "beater" or utility bike.
The ephemerally alabaster landscape surrounding me got me to thinking about Heidi.
I'm not referring to Johanna Spyri's novel or the movies made from it. I'm also not reminiscing about an Alpine romance from my youth.
Rather, I am going to talk about this Heidi:
That is what I named her. She was one of the first of my bikes I named. And, being a true mountain bike, the name fit her.
She was built around a Bontrager Race Lite frame. Before Trek bought him out, Keith Bontrager was building Race Lites in California from a combination of butted chrome-moly tubings.
The way he built those frames was all but unique: Instead of brazing frame tubes into lugs or fillets, he TIG-welded them with gussets. While not as elegant as lugged or fillet-brazed frames, they were about as strong as any joints could be with thin chrome-moly steel tubing.
That construction, and the frame's geometry, made for what might have been the sweetest ride anyone ever achieved on a hardtail steel mountain bike. I never knew that a mountain bike could be so responsive until I mounted the Race Lite. It had that resilient, even smooth, ride associated with some of the best steel road frames.
Keith Bontrager was a Physics major in college, and he said he never took aesthetics into consideration when designing or building his bikes or components. Still, I always felt that Heidi was attractive, in a very rugged sort of way. As much as I love purple and green, I liked her look even better after this makeover:
When I changed the fork, I changed the decals (Bontrager made replacements readily available) as well as some of the accessories. The bike's original build, which you see in the first photo, consisted of parts that came off Heidi's predecessor: a Jamis Dakota I upgraded as I wore out the original parts.
Mind you, I liked the Dakota and rode the heck out of it. I might not have bought another mountain bike had I not gotten such a good deal on the Race Lite frame. I gave the Dakota frame to someone who, I think, sold it for a "fix".
Anyway, I rode Heidi for five years. Then, I drifted away from off-road riding and (reluctantly) sold her to someone out west who promised to ride her in the hills, where she belonged. I simply could not bear the thought of turning her into a "beater" or utility bike.
09 February 2013
Banana On Sports
Yesterday's post turned into a capsule history of the banana seat. I hadn't intended that; somehow, while under the influence of a Dunkin' Donuts dark hot chocolate, my mind drifted in that direction.
I was thinking about banana seats because of a bike I saw yesterday:
It was parked outside the main building of Borough of Manhattan Community College. The school is located, literally, in the shadow of the site of the World Trade Center; for a few years after 9/11, I could only pass through that part of town. However, yesterday, I had business down that way, and spotted the bike--just as its owner showed up to unlock it.
I didn't get much of a chance to talk with her. Her name is Julie, and she's a librarian at the college. I would have loved to ask her whether she bought or received the bike in the state I found it--or whether someone converted it for her.
I know enough to realize that her bike is a Raleigh "Sports" three-speed from the mid-1970's. The particular shade of blue (with a silver panel on the seat tube) was offered around that time, which is when I first began to work in bike shops.
Probably the only more elegant "Sports" models were made in silver-gray. The paint and panels are, I think, tasteful without being overly formal: It's not difficult to imagine students as well as professors--or librarians--riding it.
Like many Raleigh three-speeds ridden by commuters, it has a basket fitted to its handlebar. However, it has another modification that the chaps in Nottingham never envisioned: a banana seat! At first glance, it looks utterly incongruous. However, as most people who ride the Raleigh Sports--or other English three-speeds--want a comfortable ride, and the banana seat is indeed the idea some people (particularly those who ride short distances) have of comfort, there is a certain weird logic to installing one on such a bike.
The rest of the bike's eqipment seems to be original, except for the tires: a white/cream Schwalbe on the front, and a whitewall of some sort on the rear. The white/cream Schwalbes look great on Raleigh three-speeds; I installed them on the last such bike I owned. I guess two white walls wouldn't look bad, either.
I'm guessing that Julie has a bike that suits her purposes, although I would never install a banana seat on a Raliegh Sports (or almost any other bike, for that matter). Anyway, I'm glad she's riding to work.
I was thinking about banana seats because of a bike I saw yesterday:
It was parked outside the main building of Borough of Manhattan Community College. The school is located, literally, in the shadow of the site of the World Trade Center; for a few years after 9/11, I could only pass through that part of town. However, yesterday, I had business down that way, and spotted the bike--just as its owner showed up to unlock it.
I didn't get much of a chance to talk with her. Her name is Julie, and she's a librarian at the college. I would have loved to ask her whether she bought or received the bike in the state I found it--or whether someone converted it for her.
I know enough to realize that her bike is a Raleigh "Sports" three-speed from the mid-1970's. The particular shade of blue (with a silver panel on the seat tube) was offered around that time, which is when I first began to work in bike shops.
Probably the only more elegant "Sports" models were made in silver-gray. The paint and panels are, I think, tasteful without being overly formal: It's not difficult to imagine students as well as professors--or librarians--riding it.
Like many Raleigh three-speeds ridden by commuters, it has a basket fitted to its handlebar. However, it has another modification that the chaps in Nottingham never envisioned: a banana seat! At first glance, it looks utterly incongruous. However, as most people who ride the Raleigh Sports--or other English three-speeds--want a comfortable ride, and the banana seat is indeed the idea some people (particularly those who ride short distances) have of comfort, there is a certain weird logic to installing one on such a bike.
The rest of the bike's eqipment seems to be original, except for the tires: a white/cream Schwalbe on the front, and a whitewall of some sort on the rear. The white/cream Schwalbes look great on Raleigh three-speeds; I installed them on the last such bike I owned. I guess two white walls wouldn't look bad, either.
I'm guessing that Julie has a bike that suits her purposes, although I would never install a banana seat on a Raliegh Sports (or almost any other bike, for that matter). Anyway, I'm glad she's riding to work.
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