Another Winner From RuthWorks SF

A few days ago, I wrote about the excellent (and, in my opinion, beautiful) randonneur bag Ely Rodriguez of RuthWorks SF made for me.

I photographed it on Vera, my twin-lateral Miss Mercian mixte.  If you looked at the photos, you probably noticed another bag hanging from the seat rails.  I’m going to tell you about it in today’s post.

As you can probably tell, it’s also Ely’s work.  He made it around the same time he made the Randonneur bag.  So far, I have used that under-seat bag on three of my bikes:  Vera, Arielle (my Mercian Audax) and Helene (my other Miss Mercian).  It was a great complement to all of them.

How can I describe it?  Well, first of all, I’ll mention its capacity.  I don’t have an exact number, in cubic inches or liters.  But I can say with confidence that it’s somewhere between the Gilles Berthoud GB 786 saddle bag and the Carradice Barley: two bags I’ve used.

What that means is that it would probably do you well for a long day ride, or one that could involve changes of clothing or necessitate raingear.  You could also carry iPads and small cameras in it; if I were to carry a single-lens reflex camera with extra lenses and filters, I’d feel more confident with the Randonneur front bag ( or anything similar) with a small rack underneath.

Now, you could use it alone on a ride like the ones I’ve mentioned, or on a brevet or a long summer weekend ride for which you’re packing light. 

Well, perhaps I shouldn’t say “packing light”.  “Low-volume” might be more like it.  The bag is very strong, being solidly constructed of cotton canvas duck and leather.  (Ely can make a vegan version of it, if you prefer.)  And it offers a couple of options for mounting:  through the loops of a saddle like the Brooks B-17, or with a strap around the saddle rails.  Of course, you could use both if you’re carrying a large or heavy load.  Whichever you use, the bag is stabilized by a strap that fastens the bag to your seatpost, stays or rack rails, depending on the size and configuration of your bike. 

I would imagine that you could also install the mounting system Gilles Berthoud uses on its largest saddlebag, or fashion your own version of a decaleur.  Speaking of which:  I would also imagine that it would work as a handlebar bag, although I have not tried it myself.

Having said all of that, I will say that you probably won’t need to go to such lengths:  I simply pulled the long leather strap tight around the body of the bag, and it stayed snug against the saddle rails on all of my bikes, whether the bag was packed to, or far from, its capacity.  

All in all, I can say:  1.) I am happy with this bag for, essentially, the same reasons I’m happy with my other RuthWorks bag and, 2.) This particular bag is a good one to consider if you need something larger than a basic tool pouch/wedge but don’t want to buy a Bagman, rack or other hardware.  And, also like the other RuthWorks bags, it’s something to consider if you like a “retro” look and traditional materials and construction methods, but you want it your way. As I’ve mentioned in my posts about the other bags he’s made for me, Ely offers a variety of options (and even does custom designs) as well as materials and colors.

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!