No Longer On Guard Against Chainguards

Until recently, chainguards were anathema to most "serious" cyclists.  I think it had to do with the fact that the first derailleur-equipped bikes most Americans saw, in the early days of this country's bike boom, lacked that amenity. 

Chain guard on 1975 Schwinn Varsity

Or, it had a disc--like the one in the above photo- that was about as good at keeping your clothes out of the chain as fishnet fenders would be at keeping you from getting sprayed during a monsoon.

More than a few cyclists and mechanics--including the late Tom Cuthbertson, author of Anybody's Bike Book--actually advised removing your chainguard and, if you rode with long pants, using cuffs or bands.

For more than three decades, I rode bikes without chainguards.  In fact, the idea of installing one on any of my bikes scarcely even crossed my mind. 

Then, about a decade ago, there was a cosmic convergence.  All right, maybe it wasn't quite cosmic, but it was unexpected and perhaps serendipitous for makers and sellers of chainguards.  Around that time, a demand for "practical" bikes--including Dutch-style, English three-speed and Parisian porteurs--emerged along with an interest in vintage bicycles.  Folks like Chris Kulczyki, the founder of Velo Orange started rummaging warehouses, first in North America, then in Europe, looking for beautiful old chain guards like this one:

Mercier chain guard

I love that one, and others that have cut-out patterns and such.  I equally love the ones that are simply shaped and finished to fit with the overall aesthetic of the bike, like the one on this 1958 Motobecane Pantin Ladies' bike:

Pantin is the community on the outskirts of Paris where, for decades, Motobecane made its bicycles and mopeds.  It seems fitting as a model name for a city bike that's elegant enough for the most urbane boulevardier.  Such a person probably would not dream of riding without a chainguard! 


 

Chains Of Light

When I was in fifth grade, my class took a trip from our school in Brooklyn to an exotic land on the other side of a frigid, turbid body of water:  the East River.  We, of course, went to Manhattan.

In that exotic isle, we visited the Metropolitan Opera House of the  Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts, which was then only a few years old.  I knew nothing about opera or classical music, but the place had me entranced in a way no amusement park ever could. 


 



What had me most enthralled were the chandeliers.  I'd never seen anything like them, and few things have ever fixated themselves in my mind as they did.  To this day, I don't know whether it showed that I had exquisite taste at an early age or that I was simply a magpie in a human body. Whatever the case, I simply could not take my eyes away from them.


 



I decided, then and there, that if I ever became rich, I would want such a fixture hanging over my dining room table.  

In the meantime, though, I might go for this:

Carolina Fontoura Alzaga constructed this masterpiece from  bicycle chains. Somehow it seems even more operatic and baroque than the ones in Lincoln Center.  I love it!

Vera Gets New Bags From Ely

Vera doesn't seem to have suffered any structural damage from the accident a few weeks ago.  I feel confident in saying that after doing some work on it.

In the course of doing some maintenance and repair, I decided to make a few changes.  One involved going to a slightly longer handlebar stem extension.  I took the opportunity to install one with a built-in cable hanger:

And, as you will notice, I did something to the stem.  Look at how the bell is attached.  Yes, I drilled a hole and tapped it so that the bell, which I unscrewed from its bracket, threaded in.

The bell, by the way, is Japanese.  I bought it from Velo Orange.  From what I understand, it's also available from Jitensha Studios.

One reason I decided to set up the stem that way was to de-clutter the front.  Also, having a cantilever brake means having a hanger, and whoever originally set up this bike didn't leave much room in the steering column for much besides the headset.  There was enough room for the hanger, but I wanted to put something else in there:

Yes, I made the plunge:  I'm using a decaleur, also from Velo Orange.  More to the point, I'm using it on a great piece of kit:  RuthWorks' Randonneur bag.   

I've written about his Brevet and wedge bags in other posts.  Ely Rodriguez makes RuthWorks bags and seems to have a great time doing it.  Not only does he offer canvas (and other materials) in all sorts of colors; he pays great attention to detail.  So, his bags are full of all sorts of thoughtful features as well as great workmanship.

I love the way the top flap opens.  I suspect that it provides greater protection against the elements, though I have not yet ridden with this bag in bad weather.  

It's hard to believe that in all of the years I've ridden, I've never before used a front bag like this one, much less a decaleur.  It seems that those things disappeared from the face of the Earth right around the time I got involved in cycling.  I didn't even see them in Europe:  It seems that all of the traditional manufacturers of bicycle luggage and the stuff you need to use them on bikes disappeared, or started to use synthetics where they once used cotton duck canvas and more modern methods of attaching the bags. 

And, it seemed that the world was forgetting about how to position bags. (I actually had a Specialites TA front bag that I never used because no one had any idea of where to find the hardware I'd need for it.)  One ironic result was that we were always complaining that our handlebar bags bounced:  All of the lore and science that would have told us that they were really meant to be front bags, not handlebar bags (which meant they'd mount lower on the bike , close to the wheel rather than high up on the handlebar) disappeared like the scrolls and books that burned in the Library of Alexandria.

What this means is that I wish I'd known about bags like this, and how to use them, when I took my European, New England and California-Nevada tours.  I would have been so much more comfortable about carrying the Honeywell Pentax I brought on those trips!  And, let's face it, with a bag like the one Ely made for me, I would have been riding in style.

My bag includes large velcro strips that wrap around the rails of a front rack.   It might be possible to use the bag with just those straps and no decaleur.  (Perhaps the bag could also be lashed to the rack's "tombstone".)  It's also possible to use it with something like the Nitto F15 handlebar support or the Rixen Kaul "Klick Fix" system.  Either of those supports, however, attach to the handlebars themselves and render the bag more like a traditional handlebar bag.

If you order one of these bags, you can ask Ely to make it without the loops for the handlebar rack or the Velcro straps.  You can also ask him to make other accommodations for whatever racks and attachment systems you use.  He's very willing to work with you on helping you get a bag you like.  He even makes "vegan" bags, without leather or other animal products.

Now, I grant that this is my first experience of using such a piece of bike luggage.  So I can't honestly compare it to other boxy Randonneur bags.  However, I can wholeheartedly recommend this piece of kit for its details, convenience features and Ely's workmanship.

And, oh, can you tell that I love the color?  It's called Nantucket Red, but it's really more like a salmon pink.  My other RuthWorks bags in that color are great on my other Mercians, with the purple/green "flip=flop" (#57) finish.  I was tempted to ask him to make a gray or black bag for Vera, but I think I like this color with the British Racing Green finish.  What do you think?

(You've noticed another bag on the rear of Vera.  I'll write about it soon.)