A Jersey I'd Actually Buy

I haven't owned a bike jersey in years.

Time was, though, when I had more of them than I have shoes now.  

(OK.  I managed to include two gender stereotypes in the previous sentence.  If you don't want to read on, I understand.)

When I bought a jersey, I chose it for fit, design and colors, in that order.  Or at least, I told myself they were in that order.

Truth was, I didn't care much about which team or brand name--or whether any at all--was on the garment.  I had jerseys from the French National Team and the Credit Agricole, La Vie Claire "Z" and Banesto teams, among others.  I also had jerseys with club names and logos as well as brands I rode, as well as some I didn't. If I liked the look it fit, I wore it.

Someone gave me a Festina jersey. It didn't have a needle in the pocket.


Every once in a while, I think of getting a wool jersey or two for old time's sake.  Plus, they're at least practical.  And it would mean getting more classic or basic color schemes and logos, which would suit me fine.

I don't know if it's made in wool, but this is one I'd definitely consider:

Winter Fix For Vera

What do you do when you’re not riding?

Well, I guess that depends on your reason for not riding.  If you’re in bed with illness or injury, you don’t do much of anything except (if you’re like me) read and write.  But if you’re icebound, you can do those things and make soups, bake, be cuddled by pets and partners and watch Fargo for the umpteenth time.

And, oh yeah, you can work on your bike(s). I’ve been doing a fair amount of that.  If you ride regularly, you need to clean and perhaps overhaul or fix various parts of your mounts.  You might also decide to upgrade or otherwise change something or another to meet your changing needs as a rider, or simply to try something new.

I’ve managed to work on all of my bikes as snow has turned to ice on streets I normally ride.  I cleaned the drivetrains—and changed the chains—on all of my Mercians.  Because of the accident I had in August, I did the most work on Vera, the green Miss Mercian I bought second-hand three and a half years ago.

Neither the frame nor most of the major components were damaged.  I expected the handlebars to be bent, but they weren’t.  (Now you know that Velo Orange makes strong bars!)  But the chainring and chainguard were:  I couldn’t get the wobble out of the ‘ring and the guard crumpled. Also, the front fender bent and, as it turned out, developed cracks around the fork crown mount.  I figured it would be a good idea to replace it for safety’s sake.  Translation:  It was an excuse to try something new!  And, it just happened that Velo Orange recently introduced a new fender style, the Facette.  

Actually, it’s new for VO:  It’s a reproduction of an old French (what else?) style.  I thought it might work nicely with the lines of Vera’s twin top stays:

Those lines and the shape give the fenders—and the bike—a sort of Art Deco look, I think.  

Ely Rodriguez made the fender flap when he made the front bag and all of those other wonderful RuthWorks SF bags he's made for me. 

And, oh, by the way, I replaced the single chainring I bent with two.  The Sugino XD crank was sold as a single but has a provision for a second chainring.  Since the crank has a 110 BCD pattern, a wide variety of chainrings is available.  The ones I chose are made by Stronglight in France; the larger one has 46 teeth and the smaller one 34.

Installing two chainrings meant installing a front derailleur—a Shimano 105 from the 8-speed gruppo—and a lever to operate it.  

I haven’t ridden the bike on the streets yet.  On the repair stand, the new chainrings and derailleur were playing nice with the new chain and cassette.  I feel confident they will work out. I’ll miss the green-and-gold chainring and gold chainguard, but I think I like the look of the new parts—and the bike overall.  And we all know that’s what’s really important! ;-)

What Did You Do In Your Youth?

My first multiday bike tour took me from New Brunswick, NJ (where I was attending university) into the Poconos.  From there, I rode down to Island Beach where, more than three decades later, Superstorm Sandy would blow a Ferris wheel into the ocean.  Then I pedaled gingerly up the Jersey shore back to New Brunswick. 

All told, I spent a week on the road.  For two days, I wandered the Poconos, and I spent a day hanging out at Island Beach where I slept on the beach and, surprisingly (in retrospect) nobody chased me.  Sometimes you get away with stuff like that when you're twenty years old and, in the eyes of the world, male.

That ride was one of the few things I'd done up to that point in my life that impressed anybody.  As a friend of my mother's said, on that ride, I pedaled more miles than most people ever pedal.  She was being a bit hyperbolic, but I understood what she meant.

I was not impressed with myself because the ride was actually a bit easier than I expected it to be.  (Don't forget, I was twenty years old and full of testosterone!)  In fact, I castigated myself afterward because, even though riding wasn't difficult, I brought far more stuff with me than I needed.  Now it seems comical, especially since, in my memory of that ride, I hauled even more than this guy:

 

He spent 28 days on the road.  Actually, I use the word "road" loosely, as Edward "Ryko" Reichenbach's journey from Adelaide to Darwin took him through the Australian outback.  He tramped through sand, waded swamps and dodged all manner of obstacles.  In contrast, the most remote rural roads I rode were paved and never more than an hour's ride from a store or some form of habitation.



The time Ryko took to complete his 1914 ride was a record that stood for quite a while.  And being the keen photographer he was, he left a rich visual chronology of his adventure.