Is Thin “In” Again?

When I first became a dedicated cyclist, about four decades ago, it could have shared a motto with the fashion industry: Thin is “in.”  Even touring bikes had tires, and were constructed from parts, that are positively svelte.

Cycling was also like fashion because thin and rich went together.  The most expensive bikes were thinner and lighter than the rest:  You could get a Schwinn baloon-tired bike for a song, or less.

All of that began to change with the introduction of frames made from large-diameter aluminum tubing—and mountain bikes.  Road racing bikes still had skinny tires, but the development of mountain bikes showed many people the practicality of wider tires.

About a decade ago, “fat tire,” or simply “fat”bikes appeared.  They looked like downhill mountain bikes on steroids.  While they first became popular as “snow” bikes or the two-wheeled equivalents of Hummers.  I’ve seen some here in New York, though none in hipster or affluent neighborhoods.  And I have seen fewer of them over the past few years.

It seems that I’ve been witnessing a larger trend, according to Jeff Barber in Singletrack. Apparently, the fat-bike trend reached its peak around 2015, at least if we judge it by the number of models offered by manufacturers.  According to Barber’s article, half as many models are available this year, and a few companies have stopped making them.

One thing I have noticed is that here in New York City, the popularity of fat bikes seems to have fallen off as motorized   and electric bikes have become more common.  Just as I don’t recall seeing fat bikes in Greenpoint or other self-consciously hip precincts, I don’t see residents of such neighborhoods on e- or motorized bikes.  In such places, if you see someone on a bike with an electric or mechanical
assist, he (yes, he’s almost invariably male—and an immigrant) is probably delivering dinner to someone who doesn’t ride an e-bike, but might ride a “fixie” to the N.Y. Waterways ferry.

I wonder whether the fall of the fat tire correlates with the rise of ebikes in other parts of the country. Or is thin “in” again?

Does Your Bike Lie?

It’s 2:00 in the afternoon.

Is the bike’s owner inside the bar?

The girlfriend of an old cycling buddy once told me she could gauge his mental and emotional state by looking at his bikes. “He doesn’t say much,” she explained.  “But the bikes tell me everything.”

I wonder what she’d make of this bike.

Breaks

Shawn Granton, the man behind Urban Adventure League, was running errands in his adopted hometown of Portland.  He was riding at a speed normal for those circumstances when the seatpost on his Raleigh Crested Butte broke under him.

What was unusual, though, was the way it failed:  in the middle of the tube, near the seat tube collar.

In my four decades-plus as a cyclist, which includes time as a bike mechanic, I have seen and heard of maybe a handful of seatposts that broke.  And I can think of only one post besides Shawn’s that broke mid-tube:  In my last bike-shop gig,  I worked on a warranty claim for a customer who experienced the failure of an early carbon fiber post.  I think he rode into a pothole or something, because the jarring threw him forward, away from the jagged edge of the sheared post.  Had he not been thrown forward, he could have found out what it’s like to have a broken bottle shoved into his crotch.  I don’t wish such a thing on anyone!

The only other mid-tube seatpost failure I can recall happened to a onetime mountain-biking buddy.  During a ride in Massachusetts, his post bent about halfway between his saddle and seat collar.  Perhaps that doesn’t count as a “failure,” but I don’t think he was anticipating a mid-ride change in his bike’s geometry!

I myself have had two seatpost failures. In the first, about 30 years ago, the seat rail clamp bolt broke on a Laprade-clone post.  I was a block from my apartment , on my way home from work.  Fortunately,, a driver about 50 feet behind me saw me and swerved away.  Only my feet made contact with then pavement.

The second seat post failure was potentially more serious.  I wasn’t hurt but I was pissed.  On that post—an expensive after-market Syncros—the head, which included the seat clamping mechanism, separated from the tube of the post.  I was doing (or trying) some stupid mountain bike trick  when the break occurred.  I think I did another stupid mountain bike trick to keep myself  pedaling , more or less upright, through a turn.

Syncros wouldn’t replace the post, but the shop where I bought it gave me another.  Not long after, Syncros had a major recall.  At the time, I remember thinking “I should have known better than to buy anything called ‘Syncros’!”  After all, it was the name, a few years earlier, of Campagnolo’s early (and short-lived) indexed shifting system.  It certainly earned its nickname: “Stinkros.”

Anyway, I am happy that Shawn and his bike are OK—and hope he doesn’t experience another mishap like it.