I'll Be Fine: I Went For A Ride

I once held a racing license.  And I actually rode in a few races.  Ergo (and you thought it was only the name of Campagnolo's "brifter"!), I was a racer.  Right?

Well, maybe not so much.  I fancied myself as one.  I even managed to convince a few people (and a couple of actual racers) that I was one.  I rode racing bikes, wore racing jerseys, shorts and shoes and ate and drank what I thought racers put into their bodies.  

And I actually placed well in a couple of races.  A third place, even!  For a time, I thought that if I rode just a little longer and a little harder....

(These days, it's difficult for me to think about doing things longer and harder.  But that's another story:  perhaps one for my other blog!)

Realistically, I knew I wasn't going to challenge Bernard Hinault.  But I thought that if I moved up a category every year I could become...a champion (of what?)...a pro?

So what, exactly, caused me to realize that I wasn't going to realize such lofty goals?  No, I didn't crash and break my leg and wreck my Colnago during my next race.  Nor did I admit that, even at the relatively young age I was, I didn't have much (if any) of a "window":  There were riders my age who, even if they hadn't won a major race, had at least been riding for years in the European peloton.  The pack in Prospect Park, as invigorating as it could be, simply didn't compare. But even such an admission would not have been enough to make me realize that I wasn't a racer.

I think I finally understood, today, for the first time, why I never  was, or could be, truly a racer.  It has to do with an observation someone I was trying to woo years ago made about me.  According to this person, I don't care about things or experiences so much as the emotions and memories I have about, or associate with, them.

To this day, it remains one of the most perceptive things anyone has said about me.  Of course, back then, I didn't want to hear it, because she was one of the many attractive women I tried to make my "arm candy", I mean companion, in order to convince the world (in reality, myself) that I was indeed a macho heterosexual guy--if one with a sensitive soul.

Anyway, today I took a ride that really was bits and pieces of other rides I've done, spliced together.  I packed a bag of tortilla chips and some salsa I made into the Ruth Works Randonneur bag on Vera, my green Mercian mixte.  I intended to enjoy a roadside picnic somewhere along the way.  But that is not the only reason I chose Vera:  Yesterday, we had heavy rains; puddles and even mini-ponds lined the streets and roads, not to mention the paths.  Vera has fenders, with a flap on the front.

A gray glacier of clouds crept across the sky; after riding along the World's Fair Marina and Flushing Bay to Fort Totten, drops of rain stuttered across my skin as I ascended Bell Boulevard to Northern Boulevard, where I turned left and rode across a roadway that slices through a tidal marsh to Nassau County, where I followed no planned route.

So I found myself pedaling through shopping centers, suburban subdivision, country clubs and a couple of parks that had something resembling nature in them.  Finally, I found myself on a road that twisted through a wooded area--not exactly a virgin forest, but green nonetheless:  actually, quite soothing under the cloud cover that seemed to follow me, even if it didn't spill any more rain.

From Cyclopology

I knew, generally--though not specifically--where I was.  That is to say, I knew I was somewhere in the middle of Long Island, probably heading south or east, but to where I didn't know.  If I was lost, it wasn't such a big deal: I could get only so lost.  If I rode south for a few miles, I'd reach the ocean; if I pedaled east, it would take me a good bit longer to reach the Atlantic. (That's why it's called Long Island!)  And if I went west, I'd be in the general direction of home; going north would take me back to, well, the North Shore, where I could turn left and head in the direction of my apartment.

The real reason I was riding, though, wasn't to explore or get lost--or to challenge myself. (The wind would do that for me when I pedaled into it on my way home!)  Instead, I was riding with the echo, if you will, of a conversation I had last night with someone I hadn't talked to in a few years.  There was no "falling out" or other rupture in our friendship; life had just taken us in different directions for a while.  

We actually worked together for a time; neither of us is at that job anymore.  She decided to return to school and is almost done with the coursework for her PhD and, luckily, found work that allowed her to support herself.  But, along the way, she broke up with the fiance she had the last time we talked.

I, too, ended a relationship I was in at the time.  But mine didn't end as amicably as hers; it couldn't have.  She knew that and asked, several times, how I'm doing.  Better than I was in that relationship, I said.  

"Good.  Don't look back."

"I don't."

The funny thing is, the tears that rolled down my cheeks as I descended from the ridges in the center of the island to the South Shore weren't for him, or for what knowing him cost me (two jobs and an apartment)--or about what it took to get him out of my life.  I am happier in my current job than I was in the ones I lost.  

And, to answer another question my friend asked, I am finally working, again, on a book I started writing years ago--even before I knew her.  "Great!  You're going to be all right!", she intoned.

I hope she's right.  No, I take that back.  I know she's right.  I have no idea of how that book will turn out, but I know I have no choice but to write it.  When I started it, I was a different person, living a different life--literally.   But I know I was carrying much of what's in that book--at least in its current state--long before I started to write it.  

She understands:  She is a writer, too.

"Just keep writing it.  You'll be fine."


That is how I felt while riding today.  I didn't know where I was going, but I knew I'd be fine.  Whether or not by design or choice, where I'd been had gotten me to where I was.  All of it:  All of my rides, all of my work, all of those days and years I lived a life not quite my own and, finally, in a relationship with someone who, just as I was claiming my own self and life, almost kept me from living it.

The road that had gotten me to today's ride: My old friend reminded me of it, and why I continue--even if I don't know where the ride, the journey, continues or ends.

Has any racer ever thought of his or her ride that way?

Not The Bee's Knees

Since I'm not Eric Rohmer, I'm not going to make this post about Le Genou de Justine. And it may not be the bee's knees, either.  Where did that expression come from, anyway?


Anyway...My knee doesn't look particularly bad:  a couple of cuts and some swelling.  As my doctor said, it feels worse than it actually is.  Still, I don't think you want to look at it.  So, instead, I'll show you what happened to Vera:

Thankfully, the real damage isn't to Vera herself--well, not to the frame, which is to the heart and soul of the bike.  The front wheel is only slightly out of true; the rear is unscathed.  All else seems fine, except for the handlebar.  The right side is bent downward, and there are stretch marks at the point where the main body of the bar meets the center sleeve. It had actually been bent more; I bent it back as much as I could so I could ride the bike home.  But, of course, I'm not going to take any chances with it.  I once broke a handlebar and I was fortunate not to have broken anything else!


I'd been riding the bar--a Nitto Jitensha--for not much more than a month.  It had the nice, solid feel of the Nitto drop bars and stems I ride on Arielle and Tosca.  And they gave me a good position--upright, with a somewhat leaning-forward attitude--for commuting and city riding. They were a bit wider than other city/upright bars I've ridden, which gave me a bit more steering power, but were a bit more difficult to maneuver in tight spots.  That brings me to the one and only complaint I had about the Jitensha:  Given its width, I expected the grip area to be longer. Plus, the hand position it affords is something of a cross between that of a flat bar (which I find is hard on my wrists) and that of the flats or "hooks" of a dropped or "moustache" bar.  I like the drop/moustache position better.  But that, and my liking of a longer grip area, are my personal preferences; if they're not yours, the Jitensha is a nice bar for commuting and other kinds of urban riding.  


I've decided that I'm going to replace it with a bar on which I've ridden more, and like:  the Velo Orange Porteur.  It's the same bar I've been riding on Helene, and I rode it on another bike on which I commuted for a time.  However, I'm not going to use it with inverse levers, as I have on Helene, because they won't work with the brakes that are on Vera.  


Finally, when I install the Porteur bars, I'm going to try a shift lever I found on eBay.  More about that later.  Now all I have to do is heal my knee.   Will Eric Rohmer make a movie about that?

Vera Shows Off Her New Accessories

I didn't have to work.  So I slept later and my day got off to, shall we say, a more leisurely start than I'd originally planned.

So I didn't take as long or ambitious a bike ride as I might've.  Still, I managed to get in about 100 kilometers, on a bike I haven't ridden in a while:  Vera, my green Mercian mixte.

A sweet ride she is.  And she's had a slight makeover.

From the saddle forward, she hasn't changed.  It is below the saddle, and to the rear, where she sports a new look:

When Velo Orange had a sale, I decided to go for a constructeur rack and some of those beautiful Rustines elastic cords.   At first, I was skeptical of a rack that rests on the fenders.  But, as Chris at VO and others point out, the fender doesn't actually bear the weight.  Nor, for that matter, do the struts on racks that attach to the rear stays.  Rather, those struts--and the fender--act as stabilizers.  Rather, the load is borne by the rack itself, which is surprisingly strong.

It real benefit, though, is that it sits lower than other kinds of racks.  We all know that the lower the center of gravity, the more stable the bike is. And, on a bike with a load, stability translates into speed.

All right.  I'll admit it:  The real reason I went for the rack is the look.  It really seems right, I think, on a classic twin-stay mixte.  Plus, the rack matches the one on the front. 

Indulgent, perhaps.  But Vera doesn't seem to mind, and it didn't seem to make the bike faster or slower.  But I'm liking it, so far.

Not The Five Boro Bike Tour

Everyone who knows I’m a cyclist, but isn’t one him- or herself, is going to ask whether I did the Five Boro Bike Tour.  The answer is “no”.

I am happy for those who did.  I simply don’t want to ride in such a mass of people, some of whom have no idea of how to ride in groups.  Also, I don’t want to be stuck on Staten Island for three hours, waiting to get on the Ferry. That happened the last time I rode the 5BBT.

Plus, I’m cheap.  I don’t want to spend $25 on a one-day ride, even if there’s a T-shirt at the end of it. 

Finally, I did fourteen of the first twenty 5BBTs, twelve as a rider and two as a  marshal.  There just isn’t any sense of discovery for me when I do the ride, which takes basically the same route every year.

I did, however, go on a ride.  As I did yesterday, I decided on a bike before I decided on a ride.  In this case, I took Vera—my green Miss Mercian mixte—out on another gorgeous day.  The weather was much like yesterday, but a bit warmer.  So I wore one less layer and used more sunscreen.

Vera, like Arielle, didn’t seem to mind that I didn’t have a planned itinerary.  She took me through on a journey through a place that showed no sign of the changing season, and another that couldn’t help but to remind one of the fact that today was one of the first warm days of the year.

Passing Forest Park and rolling down Woodhaven Boulevard as it turned onto Beach Channel Drive, I could have been on my way to the Rockaways again.  Much as I enjoy riding there, Vera wasn’t about to take me there, and I was happy for that.  

We detoured through the western side of Howard Beach,where tidal marshes stand between Jamaica Bay and 78^th Street.  The reeds look the way they did during the winter, the fall and the previous summer and spring.  They don’t even seem to have been affected by Superstorm Sandy—or a fire that raged a few months later.  

From there, I picked up the bike trail along Shore Parkway to the Canarsie Pier, where it seemed every male from the surrounding neighborhoods was fishing.

Then I continued along the Shore Parkway path.  Traffic along the highway was, by that time, at a near-standstill in both directions.  Some of the vehicles had bikes attached to them, but I suspect some were on the way to the piers, the beaches or any number of outdoor spaces.

Next stop:  Coney Island.  It simply wasn’t possible to ride the boardwalk because it was so crowded.  It was like the Fourth of July, except that nobody was swimming.  Although the ocean is warming, it’s still only about 10 degrees C (50F):  too cold for most people.  Lots of folks were walking, playing volleyball, building sandcastles or simply hanging out in the sand. Even Hasidic Jewish girls were taking off their shoes and treading the sand in their heavily-stockinged feet.

Up to that time, the wind had been blowing at or beside me.  That meant, of course, I’d have the wind at my back for a  good part of the ride home.  Even with all of its cracks and potholes, the ride up the Ocean Parkway bridle path  and past Prospect Park and the Williamsburg waterfront went quickly.  

So…I had two great days and two great rides on two great bikes.  I could hardly ask for more.

Vera's And Helene's Cousin?

And here I was, thinking that I rode the only Mercians with Velo Orange Porteur handlebars in New York City.

On my way home, I wandered, as I often do, through Greenpoint, Brooklyn.  It's just across the Pulaski Bridge from Long Island City, Queens--which, in turn, is just upstream (on the East River) from Astoria, where I live.

I was spinning the gears on Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear, on Greenpoint Avenue, one of the neighborhood's main throughfares.  (I won't use the word "drag" because I don't want to create unintended connotations!)  Out of the corner of my eye, I tawt I taw, not a puddy tat, but an interesting bike.

My instincts proved correct.  Indeed, parked on the street was a Mercian.  Of course, I will find a bike interesting just because it's a Mercian, but this one--in spite of its classic panel scheme--would prove to be unique.

I wish a car weren't parked right next to it and that I had something more suited to close-range photography than my cell phone. I did the best I could by squeezing myself between the car and bike and doing my best imitation of Gumby.  At least I captured, I think, something of the bike's look, with its pewter-gray paint and its creme anglaise-coloured panels.  

The grips, I think, made those Porteur bars look like they belonged on the bike.  If I were building it, I would have gone with a honey or brown Brooks saddle, though I don't think the black seat looks bad.  I'm guessing that whoever put the bike together had that saddle on hand, possibly from another bike he or she had ridden.

One nice thing about the bike was that it looks as if it wasn't put together merely for looks or style.  For one thing, it is a Mercian, so it is built for a nice ride. (Why do you think I own four of them?)  The frame is constructed of a Reynolds 531 "Super Tube" set.  Reynolds 531, like other top-quality bicycle tubing, was made in different thicknesses.  The "Super Tube" sets combined different thicknesses. I suspect that, as the frame is a small size, lighter tubes were used on the top tube and possibly the seat tube. The components are all first-rate:  mainly Shimano, including Dura Ace hubs and rear derailleur. 

I was tempted to leave a note on the bike, in the hopes that its owner would contact me.  That is a risky thing to do here in New York (and, I suspect, in many other places).  So all I can do is hope that the bike's owner sees this post and contacts me.  I would love to know more about the bike--and, possibly, whoever rides it.  Perhaps he or she would like to meet Vera or Helene, my Mercian mixtes with Velo Orange Porteur bars!

"Marley's" Wheel Finds Its Home--For Now

As you may have guessed, the wheel Marley "helped" me build has found a home--for now.

Yes, it's on the Trek 560 frame I "rescued."  Today I took it out for its first run--a visit to the doctor's office, with a stop at the Donut Pub on the way home.  The trip is about six miles each way.

About half a mile from my apartment, I had to make my first stop, for the traffic light before the entrance to the Queensborough Bridge.  I had to think for a split-second:  I don't ride coaster brakes regularly, so I had to "re-learn" the impulse to pedal backward.  Obviously,it's very different from stopping with a handbrake, but it's also not as much like coming to a halt on a fixed-gear bike as one might expect.  On a coaster brake, you backpedal for about an eighth of a crank rotation. Once the brake engages, you can't backpedal any further.

 On the other hand, when you want to stop your fixie (without hand brakes), you actually tense your legs up and shift that tension backward and downward, toward your heels.  You can't really backpedal unless you're unbelievably strong or are willing to live with two broken legs for a long time.

Once I got used to the backpedaling motion, it wasn't hard to control my stops:  The Velosteel brake works quickly and smoothly.

As for the bike itself:  The jury is still out.  Not surprisingly, it's accelerates pretty quickly, as the wheelbase and chainstay lengths are about the same as those of Arielle and Tosca.  However, the frame is made of heavier tubing and, more important, the seat tube is about 1 cm longer, which I noticed somewhat on dismounting the bike.   The most significant difference, size-wise, between the Trek and my diamond-frame Mercians is that the top tube is about 2.5 cm longer.  One consequence of that is that I'm using a stem with a shorter extension, which makes the steering less sensitive than it is on any of my Mercians except, possibly, Vera.

I have no doubt this could be a very good errand, city or winter bike.  I just wonder how comfortable it will be for me.  And, of course, I will have a more difficult time riding in a skirt than I would on Vera or Helene.  

Whether or not I keep the bike, I'm going to hold onto the wheel I just built, as well as the front one. I'd also probably take the saddle, and possibly the handlebars, off the bike before I sell it or otherwise give it up.  But I'm not going to make that decision before I ride it at least a few more times.

Views After My Commute

After I rode home from work, Vera and I were ready for a little more action and some visual stimulation.

So we climbed the stairs to the walkway/bike lane of the RFK/Triborough Bridge.  We could not have had a better view of Upper Astoria clothed in fall colors:

It's a New York view most people never see.  But, when I turned around, I encountered the sort of vista almost everyone expects late on a mid-autumn afternoon in the Big Apple:

Even the Hell Gate railroad trestle took on the hues of foliage reflected in the late-day sun:

Vera was being modest about helping to make this mini-revelry possible:

 

Convincing Me Otherwise

Every once in a while, I think about repainting Vera. The finish is pretty scraped up, though actually not bad for a bike its age.  Also, I think about having shifter bosses brazed on and having the cable tunnels near the top of the down tube removed, as I use a down tube shifter.

Of course, one thing that deters me from doing so is money: It hasn't been abundant for me lately.  But seeing this bike may also keep me from altering and refinishing Vera:

It's a Holdsworth from, I'd guess the 1970's.  At least, the style of the lugs and paint as well as the Campagnolo Record gruppo (with a Nuovo Record rear derailleur) lead me to believe it's from that era.

All of the Campagnolo equipment--including the large-flange hubs--seems to be original.  About the only deviations I could see were the replacement brake blocks (Mathauser Kool Stop) and a non-Campagnolo headset I could not identify.  The latter component might have been a British-made TDC headset, which was often supplied with English frames.

Even though the paint was worn away on some parts of the frame, I didn't feel that it was battered or decrepit.  Of course, the fact that someone is using it makes it seem contemporary and relevant. But there's just something about high-quality lugged steel bikes--particularly the British ones, in my opinion--that seems to age well.

Of course, they also give sweet rides!

Not In The Forecast

After yesterday's rain, it was nice to commute under clear skies.  However, a rainstorm that wasn't in the forecast drenched the campus this afternoon.  And I hadn't covered the Brooks saddle on Vera!

When I finally got outside, the rain had stopped. 

I hope this is a good omen for Vera's saddle--and a lot of other things!  Does catching only the tail-end of a rainbow count?

Product Review: King Iris Water Bottle Cages

Each of my Mercians now has at least two Kings.


No, this isn't going to be a tell-all about the Royal Family.  And, this also isn't going to reveal something your Western Civ teacher never mentioned.


Each of my Mercians--Arielle, Helene, Tosca and Vera--now has a Chris King headset.  They really are much better than any other made.  I once had a King headset that I rode on three different bikes over a dozen years or so.  Yes, those headsets are expensive.  But, given that I get three to five years out of most loose-bearing headset, I think the King is worth the investment.


But this post isn't about those headsets.  Much has already been written about them, most of it laudatory, and I have little to add.  Instead, this review is going to be about the other Kings on my bikes:  the Iris water bottle cages.

The maker of King water bottle cages bears no relation to Chris King--at least in bloodlines.  (Can't get away from the Royal Family meme, can I?)  However, they share the same kind of excellent workmanship.  And, it wouldn't surprise me if the water bottle cages share the headsets' near-indestructibility.


King offers several styles of water bottle cage, including ones that look rather like the old Blackburn and TA cages.  The one I chose, the Iris. is something like the Velo Orange Moderniste and similar cages offered by other companies.


King's Iris cage, at first glance, is a bit chunkier than those. But there's a good reason:  It's made of tubular stainless steel, while the others are made of stainless steel rods or wires.  Actually, I liked the look of the King cages when I saw them, and liked them even better when I installed one on Vera.  And I liked them just as much after I installed, and used, them on my other Mercians.


All of King's cages are hand-made in Durango, Colorado.  The body is made of a continuous tube, which is welded to two small plates of the same material.  Those plates have holes drilled in them so you can mount the cage on any standard water-bottle braze-ons.


After nearly a year of using them, I have found Iris cages to be very solid, and to offer a firm grip on the bottle.  It might take slightly more effort to pull the bottle out than it does on other cages.  However, I think this is not a problem because the cage also eliminates the problem of rattling that I encountered with other cages since I started using stainless-steel water bottles.


King's Iris cages aren't super-light, at least not by today's standards.  At 48 grams, they weigh about what other similar cages weigh, and are heavier than carbon cages.  However, given how solid and nicely made these cages are, the weight is a small penalty, in my opinion.


And, given what I've said about these cages, I think that the  suggested retail price--about 17 USD--is quite reasonable.  You can find them for slightly less, as I did, especially if you buy more than one.

Just Vera, The Red Allez And An Old Mountain Bike

Today we had the coldest weather we've had in two years.  Last night it got down to 15F; the weather forecasters say that it may drop to 10F or below tonight.

One way you know we're having a real winter is to look at the bike racks where I work:

The only bikes parked there are Vera, the red Allez that's been there seemingly every day and an old Fuji mountain bike.

Are they ridden by hardy souls or addled minds? Now there's a question for a campus debate!

27 October 2011

Mid-Life Cycling Mysteries

I've been cycling for a long time.  Well, at least, I've been riding for longer than most people, though the current shape of my body might belie that. Still, even after more than three decades of riding even when I had no logical reason for doing so, there are still some things I can't explain.


Here's one of them:  In spite of my advancing age and declining strength, my past few rides--whether commutes or pleasure rides--have been faster and smoother than I expected them to be.  Now, what I am saying is completely unscientific: I am saying them mainly on the basis of having finished the rides I took in less time than I anticipated, or than I would normally take to do them.  And this has happened without any effort on my part to make to make "better" (i.e., faster) time.


What's more, I have noticed this on riding three of my four bikes:  Arielle, Tosca and Vera.  I guess if I want to make a really valid claim, I have to take Helene out, too. (It's been a month or so since I've ridden her.  I can rationalize it this way:  For the rides on which I would have taken Helene, I rode Vera in order to fine-tune her.)  But if I were to ride her with the intention of testing this hypothesis, it would sort of invalidate what I'm saying, wouldn't  it?


On the other hand, there have been times in my life when I was in much better shape than I'm in now, yet the rides were slower and more arduous than the past few have been.  


Have you, dear readers, experienced anything like what I've described?  If so, can you account for it in some way?

07 December 2013

Another View From Vera

As cyclists, we can't help but to notice skyscapes and other vistas.  Whether they're views of the sea, hills, trees, cornfields, Victorian houses or glaciers (Yes, I pedaled alongside one in the Alps!), we are aware of the way in which natural and architectural structures interplay--or don't play nice--with the sky

Here's an interesting one I saw yesterday, while running errands on Vera:

Now, you might think it's just another view of a New York skyscraper against the sky. At least, that's what you might think if the grid lines didn't cris-cross the almost preternaturally sky-blue glass.

That glass forms the exterior of the new 4 World Trade Center, just down the block from One World Trade Center, a.k.a. the Freedom Tower.  The original WTC buildings were destroyed on 11 September 2011; the new 4 WTC opened on the 13th of November this year.

19 May 2017

Why I've Stripped Helene

The weather has been hot, particularly for this time of year.  But that's not the reason Helene is stripped.

I confess:  I stripped her.  

Why would I do such a thing to a pretty Miss Mercian?  It's not for maintenance:  I haven't been riding her lately.  

Actually, I took off all of her parts for that very reason:  I haven't been riding her.  But don't worry:  I'm not leaving her exposed.

She's getting ready for a journey.  

First I have to put her in a box.  Then she'll be on her way.

A year after I acquired Helene (in the photos below), I found Vera, my other (green, twin-tube) Miss Mercian.  I've been riding that one quite a bit, as you know if you've been reading this blog a while.

So...Helene, it's nothing personal.  You're a great bike.  But you shouldn't have to compete with Vera or any of my other bikes--or anyone or anything else (all right, except for Max and Marlee).  So, I'm sending you off to someone who will give you the attention and good times you deserve.

Yes, I've sold her.  I'd been thinking about doing that for a while. Finally, I found someone who will appreciate her and understands why I'm selling her.

Actually, the fact that I hadn't been riding her isn't the only reason I've sold her.  I'll soon tell you another reason why.

27 September 2012

Verdant Verities And Vera

A few trees in this area--such as the ones I saw on the Canarsie Pier last week--have begun to change color.  A few leaves seem to have fallen, but most of the trees are still green and full.  

However, I noticed another kind of "fall" along the World's Fair Marina promenade as I cycled to work today:

A lot of branches have fallen--or, more precisely, were ripped and broken from their trunks--during the recent storms.  I saw some of the arboreal debris scattered across the path last week; now, it seems, they are being gathered.  In addition to what fell. other limbs have been cut from the trees because they were weak or ready to come off.

Soon these trees will be yellow, orange and red, then brown.  Then they'll be bare.  But one part of my commute will still be green:

Why do you think I call her Vera?  Well, to tell you the truth, the eponymous Pink Floyd song played while I was cleaning her up just after I first got her.  But, still, you have to admit it's an appropriate name--unless, of course, I decide to paint her.  

17 October 2014

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.