The Mountain Bike Becomes A City Slicker

A while back, I got a '90's Cannondale mountain bike for not very much.  I could have ridden it as-is, replacing only the shifter.  But I decided to make it into a second city bike-commuter, sharing duties with my Fuji Allegro.

One thing I really didn't was the suspension fork that came with the bike.  For my intended purposes, I don't need a suspension fork.  Also, I didn't want to hunt down parts (like elastomers) for a fork that hasn't been made in about 20 years.

I know the steel fork that's on the bike now looks out of proportion to the oversized aluminum tubes of the frame.  But it'll do the job and I'm not too worried about the looks of this bike.  If anything, I'm hoping that its steampipe visuals will allow me to park it on the street without too many worries.

Some of the parts--like that seatpost and seat collar--I had lying around. (I'm not lying.) As was typical of mountain bikes of the time, the Cannondale came with a quick-release seat collar--which makes it easy for casual thieves to take your seat and seatpost!

I would have kept the wheels, which consisted mostly of no-name components. But I got a really good buy on a pair of Sun CR18 rims.  They're a 26 inch version of the 700C rims on the Fuji, which have served me well.

Whatever this bike lacks in aesthetics, I think it more than compensates in simplicity and usefulness.   Yes, that's a Velo Orange Porteur handlebar, in the 22.2 size.

On a bike like this, I don't expect a ride anything like that of any of my Mercians.  For that matter, I didn't expect anything even as nimble as the Fuji--which isn't set up for that.  But I have been pleasantly surprised.  My commutes and errands don't seem any slower than they've been on the Fuji.  An added bonus is that I can ride through just about any pothole or other obstacle without a second thought.

Bike Thieves Meet The Id

Alert:  I will talk politics and religion in this post.

Donald Trump may well be the first American president to rule entirely by his id.  

That's the part of our psyche that reacts to immediate needs and impulses.  Much of our education and acculturation is, essentially, training in not living by our ids.  Of course, your teachers, parents and other authority figures don't tell you that (unless, perhaps, they're psychologists or psychiatirists).  In my milieu, I don't think anyone had even heard of that two-letter term, just as they never used words like milieu.  I didn't hear such words until I went to college.

Because of such training, most of us will only go so far in response to being wronged.  I don't think any previous president would have assassinated the military leader of another country because, well, the leaders of their country did things we didn't like.  (And he said he was doing it to prevent a war:  Even Rudy Giuliani would have a hard time being more Orwellian!)  Likewise, most sexual abuse victims won't do what a 19-year-old in France did to the priest who sexually abused him and his father:  He rammed a crucifix down the prelate's throat.

I have retaliated with physical violence once in my life, when someone tried to sexually assault me.  I'll admit I've thought about reacting with force, but didn't, on more than a few occasions.  And I have made threatening gestures against potential aggressors--including a would-be bike thief I scared away.

I'll admit that at the moment I confronted the perp, I thought about doing what a couple in Visalia, California did. Corey Curnutt and Savannah Grillot baited would-be bike thieves with a bike planted in their front yard.  When someone tried to steal it, they rushed out and beat, with baseball bats, the person who tried to take it.

According to police, they did this four times between July and November of the past year.  I'm guessing that the vigilante couple would have been caught eventually, but they probably hastened their arrests by posting videos of their deeds on YouTube.

Now I'll confess that if I were on a jury, I really wouldn't want to vote to convict Curnutt or Grillot--or the young man in France.  But one reason why we're taught not to live by our ids is that part of our psyche is incapable of restraint.  Plus, almost every ethical and moral system of which I'm aware condemns retaliatory violence.  

All right, I'll end with one more confession:  I cheered when Thelma shot Harlan.  Then I felt ashamed of myself--just a little.  At least I knew "Don't try this at home."  

If You Want The "Perfect" Bike

Today you can walk or ride down Franklin Street in Greenpoint, Brooklyn and see twenty-something bro's with beards even longer than those of the Hasidic men who live only a few blocks away. 

Those same young men are, as likely as not, to be washing down their "artisanal" food with "craft" beer--while tapping away at iPads pulled out of their handmade bags.

If you've been following this blog, you know about my bikes and bags.  So I am not one to criticize someone for buying things that are made by hand or in small batches.  But for much of human history, the wish not have things that aren't made by machines would have seemed ridiculous.  One of the goals of almost every technological revolution--including the Industrial Revolution of two centuries ago and today's Digital Revolution--is to have fewer, or no, humans involved in the creation and production of everything from screwdrivers to software.

Indeed, I can recall companies boasting that their products were "untouched by human hands" before you picked them up from the shelf to buy them.  To those early industrialists in Manchester, St. Etienne, Chemnitz and Paterson, the idea that someone would willingly pay more for an item made by hand would have been blasphemous.  While profit was surely a major, if not the primary, motive for automation, those engineers and entrepreneurs were also guided by the belief that "perfecting" their products meant having fewer and fewer people involved in making it, and they saw a "perfect" product as a goal.  The reason, expressed by someone explaining his move from human workers to robots, is that the inanimate laborers "don't get sick, don't have bad moods, don't talk back and don't make mistakes."

(Fun fact:  Czech writer Karel Capek introduced the word "robot" to the world's lexicon with his play R.U.R., or Rossum's Universal Robots. He created the term from an old Church Slavonic word, robota, which means "forced labor," "servitude" or "drudgery.")

So the idea that some of us would actually spend money on a handbuilt bicycle frame or wheels would seem ludicrous to the initiators of those technological seismic shifts.  Even those who could afford handcrafted objects (once they became more expensive as mass-produced goods got cheaper) and could appreciate fine workmanship would have scoffed at the idea of buying something that could have been "corrupted" by human imperfection.

Such folks, if they were cyclists (or simply liked the idea of having a "perfect" bicycle) would surely have been drawn to Festka bicycles.  Co-founded 10 years ago by Michael Mourecek, Festka makes "perfect bikes," in his words.

Now, of course, most of us have different ideas as to what constitutes a "perfect bike," if we indeed have such a concept.  But Mourecek is not referring to a bike that can "do everything."  Nor does he mean the machine that's most efficient at converting human effort into speed.  And he isn't talking about a bike that doesn't experience mechanical breakdowns.

Rather, Mourecek means "perfect" in the sense of quality control in industrial production.  Given his clientele, it's no surprise that Festka produces carbon composite frames.  (They have also made steel and titanium-composite bikes, but most customers opt for carbon fiber.) In that sense, they're no different from other high-performance, high-cost current production bikes.  Most such bikes are made in China, not by engineers or scientists, as he points out, but by semi-skilled workers.  Those laborers, most of whom are women (because they're considered more dexterous than men), use blowers to stick computer-cut carbon fiber sheets called "pre-preg" (fabric impregnated with resin) onto frame-like shapes.  This process is time-intensive, which is probably the main reason why carbon fiber frames, even those made in China and other low-wage countries, are more expensive than frames made from other materials.

Another consequence of such a process is, as Mourecek points out, is the possibility of human error.  On the other hand,  "The robots are very precise; they are always in the same mood, they don't have family issues or go out to wild parties," he jokes.  "Every day, they produce the perfect job for us."

What's more, the process can be adapted to create any sort of frame geometry or aesthetic the customer desires.  As an example, Czech illustrator Michal Bacak blended Portuguese Azulejo and English Churchill Blue Willow patterns to create a pattern that makes a bike ordered by Thai bicycle collector Suratchaj Chenyavanij look as if it belongs in a china closet or curio cabinet.  Oh, and that bike's finish (which, I admit, is lovely) was embellished by 24-karat gold leaf.  

In an irony that the denizens of Franklin Street can only strain for (If you're trying to achieve it, it isn't irony!), part of the appeal of Festka bikes is, as Mourecek concedes, the perception that they're hand-made.  The fact that they cost more than most handmade machines (The "porcelain" bike set Chenyavanij back about $35,000) only helps to reinforce that feeling.

Oh, and those bikes are made in the Czech Republic: an irony that surely would not be lost on Karel Capek.