How I Learned That Size Matters

Youth is a time of transgressions.  Maturity is about discretion.  And one's, shall we say, august years are right for confessions.

I am going to confess something to you now.  No, I am not going to tell you about some crime I committed--though some might argue that the other party involved in this story is guilty of at least a misdemeanor--at least by the laws of civilized society, whatever that is..

Steve's comment to the post I wrote a few days ago moved me to disclose my past misdeed.  No, I am not talking about a sexual indiscretion (though I committed, uh, one, or maybe two or three, in my day).   I am talking about the sort of mistake that I prevented more than a few customers from making when I was working in bike shops.

You see, I bought a bike that was too big for me.  Way too big, in fact.  Now, I want to emphasize that I bought the bike and paid for it with some of the very first money I earned.  Previously, I had one other bike that was too big for me when I got it.  But at least my well-meaning, if misguided, grandfather gave it to me with the idea that I would "grow into it."  He didn't live to see me ride it.

On the other hand, I lived through a couple of periods of development in my life while riding the too-big bike I bought.   I was beating other kids in impromptu races and, at the age I was, I could ride bikes and wear clothes that didn't fit, and eat just about anything, and be none the worse (or so it seemed) or wiser for it.

The bike in question was the Schwinn Continental I mentioned in previous posts. In the peak months of the bike boom, dealers of popular brands like Schwinn, Peugeot and Raleigh were taking orders for basic ten-speed bikes months in advance.  In all of my local shops, bikes from those brands--and others--sold out before they even left the factories.  It wasn't unusual for every ten-speed in a dealer's stock, or that a dealer had on order, to be reserved for someone.  When I was ready to buy my Continental, there was an five-month waiting list--until Michael's Bicycle Co, on Route 35 in Hazlet, NJ, got a shipment in earlier than expected.  The bikes sold out almost immediately--except for one.  "As long as you don't mind the color," the shop's owner said, a bit condescendingly.



This Schwinn Sports Tourer, from the same era as my Continental, has a 26 inch frame.




So, instead of living through five months--an eternity when you haven't yet turned fourteen--I only had to sit tight for six weeks--the time it would take for the shop to assemble the bikes that had been ordered first--for my 26-inch (66 cm) frame.

Mind you, all of the road racing and touring frames I've had since were in the 54 to 57 cm (21.25-22.5 in) range.  A 66cm/26 inch frame is commonly recommended  for a rider with a 97cm/38 inch inseam; such a rider is likely to be anywhere from 194 to 201 cm (6'4"-6'7") tall.  In contrast, at the time I bought the bike, I was 173 cm (5'8") tall and had a 79 cm/31 in inseam.  (Now I am 178 cm/5'10" tall with am 81 cm/32 in inseam.)

No one  in the shop made any effort to convince me I shouldn't buy the 26-inch frame.  Perhaps they thought that, even at the peak of the '70's Bike Boom, the shop might find itself "stuck" with such an odd-sized bike.  They needn't have worried:  Even after the Boom died down a bit, a couple of years later, I sold the bike for as much as I paid for it.  And I don't think it fit the person who bought it any better than it fit me!

Schizophrenic Measurment Systems

On a Montreal street, I saw a sign like this:

In French, “foot” is “pied”.  Apparently, the same translation is made when “foot” refers to the unit of measure rather than the bodily appendage. 

Such a sign is not remarkable until you realize that Quebec, like the rest of Canada and the world, uses the metric system.  Thus, that speed limit sign that reads “50”—in kilometers per hour, of course-- translates into a speed limit of about 30 miles per hour. Likewise, those one-pound packages of pasta, chips or other food become 500 kilograms (about 17.5 ounces, or one pound and 1.5 ounces) and gasoline, beer and milk are sold by the liter rather than the gallon, quart or pint.

That “pied carre” sign is oddly reflective of the standards (if they might be called that) in bicycle measurements.  Until the 1980s, British bikes, as well as most Japanese and high-quality American bikes, used British standard measurements for everything from bottom bracket threads to frame sizes.  Often, the metric equivalents were provided along with their Imperial counterparts.  So, for example, a one-inch steerer tube would also be marked as 25.4 mm.

The other main standards of bicycle measurements were Italian, which is still (mostly) in use and French, which was found on most continental European bikes not make in Italy.  Both standards were metric, although some of the Italian measurements (such as bottom bracket and steerer tube sizes) were metric “translations”, if you will, from Imperial sizes.  I can find no explanation of why they were so; I am guessing that they were leftovers from the days when Italian racers, like their counterparts in other European countries, were using BSA components.

Only the French system of threading and measurement was completely metric. The handlebar stem quill (the part that inserts into the fork) diameter was 22.0 mm; the British and Italians used 22.2 mm, which is 7/8”. Most American bikes and some Japanese bikes exported the US took 5/6” diameter, which the Japanese usually listed as .833” and is today known as 21.1 mm.  My Schwinn LeTour, made by Panasonic in Japan, uses that size. So did my old Nishiki International.

At one time, it was commonly believed that if the worldwide bicycle industry were to adopt a single set of standards, it would be the French system, as it was the most consistent and because almost every country besides the US was using the metric system for everything.  But, because of the influence the American bicycle market came to exert over that of the rest of the world, the ISO standards became a veritable mishmash of metric and inch measurements.  Bottom brackets are 1.37 (or 1-3/8) inches by 24 threads per inch and headsets are 1 or 1-1/8 inches.  (A few tandems and early downhill mountain bikes are 1-1/4.)  On the other hand, everything from seat post diameters to axle lengths are expressed in millimeters.

Perhaps the most bizarre aspect of bicycle measurements comes in frame sizing.  British and American frames-- even customs and Paramounts—and Japanese bikes made for export up to 1980 or so were built with inch sizing.  So, my International was 23 inches; the next size down was 21 and the next-largest size was 25.  My Romic and first Trek were 22  inches; my subsequent road bikes had 55 or 56 cm frames.

Now almost all road bikes have frames measured in centimeters.  However, most mountain bike frames are, and have been, marketed (at least in the US) with inch measurements.  So, while my Bontrager Race Lite had an 18-inch frame, the Land Shark road bike I would get a few months later was 55cm.

A certain cartoon exhorted its viewers to “BlameCanada!”  Hmm…Could our neighbors to the north be the reason behind our schizophrenic system of measurements?  Then again, “pied square” I saw was the only instance of Imperial measurements I saw in Montreal. (You won’t find it in Paris, or anywhere else in Europe.)  And it was used only in reference to real estate.  I wonder why that is.

What Are You Wearing For Your Halloween Ride?

Tomorrow the New York City Marathon will wind its way through the Big Apple's five boroughs.  Knowing that, the pub crawls that will snake their way through various Gotham neighborhoods--as well as cities all over North America--today seem oddly appropriate.

Hmm...I wonder how many people will make the rounds of bars today and round the turns of tomorrow's run.

The first time I heard about Halloween pub crawls, it occured to me that it's what people do when they don't want to grow up but are too old for "Trick or Treat."

Most of those becostumed kids who knock on doors are in cities or relatively compact suburbs or towns.  And, of course, all of those pub crawls are in urban enclaves of young professionals.

So what does one do when separated from his or her nearest neighbors by miles of prairie or mountains or soybean fields or whatever?  Do kids in such places go Trick or Treating?  (I'm guessing there aren't many young professionals in such places,and whatever twenty- and thirty-somethings are living in them have other things to do!)  If so, how?

Well...I have a hard time imagining their parents driving them from one potential shakedown site to the next.  Could it be that they're riding from house to house on bicycles?

Why not?  I've seen racer-wannabes in team kit who looked more ridiculous than anything I've shown in this post.

Happy Halloween.