What We Can See Because of Ken Bukowski

During a conversation with an acquaintance of mine, I mentioned that I served as a "captain" on tandem rides for the blind and visually impaired.

This acquaintance, who makes workplaces ADA-compliant, wasn't surprised.  "Really, the only thing a visually-impaired, or even a blind, person can do that you or I can't is to drive a car," she declared.

Still, I must admit that of the ways one can become disabled, losing my sight is the one I fear most.  Even after hearing my acquaintance's words, and similar claims from others who are, or who work with people who are, visually impaired, I have a difficult time imagining how I would do almost anything I do now without my sight.

Certainly, I don't know how I'd ride (except, of course, on the back of a tandem) or how I might have worked as a bike mechanic. There are, however, people who have assembled and fixed bikes without the ability to see.

From The Buffalo News

One of them was Ken Bukowski.  Until September, he'd worked at Shickluna Bikes and Darts in Buffalo, New York.  For more than three decades, he assembled and repaired bikes, and gave customers lessons on how to shift gears and ride safely.  He was so good at all of these things that some customers were unaware, at first, that he was blind.  According to shop owner Tom Pallas, "many times he steered us to a missing tool because he heard where we had set it down."

Left sightless from a gunshot wound to the head at age 24, Bukowski went to the Blind Association of Western New York (now the Olmsted Center for Sight) to learn how to type.  Soon, he was enrolled in the Association's pilot program for bike repair.  When he completed that training, the Association convinced Pallas to hire him.

They worked--and-- rode together.  In fact, they pedaled the Five Borough Bike Tour on a tandem in 1987.  The thing that made him a good rider is probably the same thing that made him a good mechanic:  "concentration", according to Pallas. 

In addition to fixing bikes, riding and organizing rides, Bukowski did other things people don't normally associate with the blind:  bowling, skydiving and cooking. About the latter, his wife, Elaine Filer, said that because he didn't work much during the winter, by the time she got home from work "he'd have almost the whole dinner prepared."  

She was not the only one to benefit from his culinary skills:  For many years, he also volunteered as a cook at the Little Portion Friary, a homeless shelter in Buffalo.

He finally stopped working at the shop because of his bout with cancer, which claimed his life on 11 November.  He was 65.  Whether or not you think he lived a long life, you can't deny this:  He left an example. That, certainly, is something any of us, regardless of our abilities or disabilities, can do. 

His Reward For Helping Others Ride

Yesterday, I complained about boneheaded planners and inconsiderate (or just clueless) drivers.  So, dear readers, I figured I'd give you a feel-good story today.

Owen Werner's mother is justly proud of him.  The 11-year-old from Elk Rapids, Michigan learned that a man in nearby Kalkaska modifies bicycles for special-needs and low-income kids.  So, Werner started a fundraiser in his school to help the man's work--and get those bikes to disabled and poor kids.

His efforts paid off, in the way he hoped--and in a way he didn't expect.

You see, Owen is one of the kids he was trying to help--although he wasn't thinking of himself when he started the fundraiser.  But, apparently, someone else noticed--specifically, the owners of McLain Cycle and Fitness.  They gave him a specially-modified bike for his needs:  He has a condition that's kept his muscles and joints from developing normally.

Owen Werner

In watching the video of him, I couldn't help but to remember someone I knew in high school.  He walked and moved in a way similar to how Owen gets around.  But he had the misfortune of growing up in a place and time where it was believed that kids with similar handicaps were incapable of any sort of physical activity.  He was even left back a year because, in spite of having an otherwise-perfect academic record, he didn't pass Phys Ed.  

Fortunately for him, he was extremely (almost frighteningly) smart and talented in all sorts of other ways.  I have to wonder, though, what his life would have been like had he grown up now--or simply in some place with more forward-thinking people than my high school had in the mid-1970s.  

Seeing Owen Werner also reminded me of something that I see in my work and everyday life:  How often physical disability and poverty go hand-in-hand.  If you go to any public housing complex, you will find disproportionate numbers of people, young and old, in wheelchairs and walkers, or who need other kinds of physical assistance.  At number of them are, and have been, my students and have spent all or parts of their lives in "the projects".  

There are, of course, several reasons for that. One is that the physical disability of a child can impoverish a family.  Another is that disabled people, in spite of all of the technological and social advances of the past few decades, have much more difficulty finding employment, let alone anything that pays well.  Moreover, a kid from a low-income background--or an adult who has trouble getting a job with a good insurance plan--might not get treatment that could keep a low-grade malady from turning into a crippling disability.

On a more positive note, I also couldn't help but to think of how versatile cycling is.  Someone, I forget who, said that a bicycle (or tricycle) can be adapted to just about any physical disability besides blindness or deafness.  And, of course, deaf and blind people can ride a tandem with a sighted or hearing "captain." (I know:  I played that role on a few rides with blind riders.)

Somehow, though, I don't think anything is going to stop Owen from doing whatever he wants.  Aleasha Witt, his mother, has every reason to be proud.

What Should You Watch For? A Horse, Of Course!

In previous posts, I've written about close encounters with animals.

As Steve A pointed out, it's pretty rare for cyclists to get hit by a deer because we're "a lot easier for a running deer to avoid than a large, speeding car."  I would imagine the same could be said for other animals.  Even so, it's pretty scary to see a deer dart across a path or a road 10 meters in front of you--especially if you're speeding down a hill!

One scenario that most of us rarely, if ever, imagine is a horse galloping into our path.  That's pretty odd when you realize that, at least here in North America, we are riding in proximity to our equine more often than we are to, say, Alpine Ibexes or macaques (or elephants--I saw one not far away but I think I might've scared it off!).  This is especially true in urban parks, which often have designated bike paths and horse trails not far from each other. 

Well, about a week and a half ago, a woman lost control of the horse she was riding in Gates Mills, an affluent village near Cleveland.  She and the horse careened into a couple riding a tandem bicycle.  I couldn't find many other details about the crash except that the cycling couple suffered "non-life-threatening" injuries.

Oh, and the woman riding the horse was found to be at fault for the crash, but she wasn't charged.  Hmm...Maybe she should get points on her license.  

If You Want To Escape, Pack Light

The first rule of thumb for cycle touring is:  Feel guilty about carrying anything more than your maps and water bottle.

It's the sort of advice I might have given when I was younger.  But I cannot claim credit for it: The honor belongs to Doug Shidell and Phillip van Valkenberg. Their pearl of wisdom came in a book they co-authored:

Now tell me:  Does that book look like it came out of the early '70's, or what?  Well, it did, a couple of years after Shidell and van Valkenberg met.  The former was a student at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, and the latter was a recent alumnus.  They were a couple of long-haired guys with "hippie tendencies" and a recently-found passion for cycling.

Doug Shidell and Phillip van Valkenberg.  This photo was published on the inside of the back cover of Bicycle Escape Routes.

They also loved their home state of Wisconsin, and their book is as much a billet doux to the Badger State as it is a guide to cycling in it.  In addition to maps and descriptions of rides, it gave sage advice about how to deal with snarling dogs and whatever else a bicycle tourist might encounter, as well as counsel on how to live in the moment:  "Marsh hawks spend much of their time sitting on fence posts in the fields," they wrote.  "If you see a bird sitting or flying low over the fields, stop near a tree or bush to remain inconspicuous and watch him for a little while."

The book also had a sense of humor about everything, including the squeaky bearings on Shidell's bike:  "We were serenaded by this bicycle's version of 'Song of the Volga Boatman' on every upgrade.  Respite of sorts came later when a spot weld let go on one of Doug's racks, creating a squeak that completely drowned out the original noise."

Since that book was published, van Valkenberg, now 73, has written seven more about cycling in Wisconsin.  He has also been a nearly non-stop advocate for cycling in the state, having worked to bring about the Elroy-Sparta State Trail and organized tours, races other rides.  These days, he and his partner, Georgia Kaftan, ride a tandem recumbent bike.

Shidell is 67 and lives in Minneapolis.  He was the first employee of Quality Bicycle Products, from which he's retired.  He also has written about bicycling and bike advocacy for the Minneapolis Star-Tribune and started a website and map-publishing effort called Bikeeverywhere.

Interestingly, he says that his cycling and  bike advocacy were motivated by environmental concerns.  He first heard about global warming in the 1970s, he said, and because the "dangers made sense to me", he thought, "I'll just start riding a bike instead of driving around."

I wonder whether either of them carries anything more than his maps and water bottle--and, if he does, whether he feels guilty about it.

A Buddy Bike For Disabled Kids

Back in the day, I served as a "captain" on tandem rides for The Lighthouse.  That meant I would  pedal and steer on the front of a tandem, while a blind or visually impaired person would be the "stoker" on the back seat.

And, yes, I followed all of the rules of being a gentleman cyclist--including that one.

I've heard that similar rides have been offered for deaf or audially-impaired folks.  That makes sense for the same reasons that tandem rides for the blind are a good idea:  It allows them to share in the joy we feel when we ride.  Also, it shows that people who partially or completely lack vision or hearing can do just about anything the rest of us can do. 

(One of the best and most creative florists I ever encountered was legally blind.  He could see colors, forms and arrangements, but had no peripheral visions.  Thus, while people and organizations called on him for weddings, banquets and other occasions, he couldn't drive!)

From The East Side Riders Bike Club website

Now the East Side Riders Bike Club (ESRBC) of Los Angeles is trying to provide a similar service for another group of people who have been, too often, deprived of the opportunity to ride and do much else we take for granted.  They work to help the Watts neighborhood (site of the 1965 riots) with bike programs and other charitable work to help keep kids out of gangs and other criminal activities.  

As it happens, communities like Watts have disproportionate numbers of developmentally-disabled children.  (When I worked as a writer-in-residence in New York City schools, I was struck by how many of the "special education" or "special needs" kids with whom I sometimes worked were residents of the projects or other poverty pockets.)  So, the good folks of the ESRBC saw another opportunity to help:  Getting kids with disabilities on bikes.

To that end, they appealed to Buddy Bikes, a Florida-based company that offers "adaptive" bikes.  Buddy Bikes is raising money so that ESRBC can get one of their machines--which cost $1500-$2000--at a reduced price.

The "Buddy Bike" that ESRBC would receive is like a tandem in reverse:  The "captain" pedals from the rear seat, while the disabled kid spins his or her feet from the front  What that means, of course, is that the Buddy Bike has a more complex steering system than what is normally found on traditional tandems.

The sad irony of this, though, is that Buddy Bikes is making their offer just as they are closing shop.  Their website says they will stay in business long enough to sell off their remaining inventory, and that they will keep their website up for another three years after.

We can only hope that the ESRBC continues their work!

Tandem Role Reversals?

As I have mentioned in other posts, I've ridden tandems only a couple of times in my life.  It's something I would do again if the opportunity presented itself.  Of course, for such an opportunity to present itself, I'd need a tandem partner--and, of course, a tandem bicycle.  About the latter:  Not many of us who live in NYC apartments own them.

Anyway, my experience as a transgender woman has led me to notice some of the male biases in cycling I hadn't noticed when I was still riding and living as male.  

While I was of average height for a male, I am taller than most women.  That means it's still relatively easy for me to get a diamond frame that fits well (though I've still opted for custom bikes, for various reasons) and if I look and wait, I can get a women's or mixte frame that suits me.  On the other hand, it's more difficult for me to buy cycle clothing, as some of my body proportions have changed, in part from my gender transition as well as aging.  So, while it used to be easy for me to buy clothing--all I had to know was my waist and chest (or shirt) size--now clothes that are the "right" size might be too loose or tight in the hips, bust or other areas--or sleeves, pants, tights and shorts (!) might be too short. 

All of that, I believe, is a result of not considering the full range of measurements possible for a woman.  There seems to be an assumption that female cyclists will be young and built like fashion models.  Also, I have too often seen a built-in inferiority complex when it comes to stuff made for women:  It's, as often as not, just less-well-designed or lower-quality versions of stuff made for men.

Oh, there's another bias I've noticed:

The vast majority of high-quality tandems I've seen have "diamond" or "men's" frames in both the front and rear.  In a lot of ways, that makes sense because tandems have such long wheelbases and "diamond" frames are usually stiffer and more stable, than dropped top-tube frames with otherwise similar design and materials.

That itself isn't quite as much a reflection of bias as this:

Just about every tandem I've seen that combines men's and women's designs has the men's or "diamond" frame on the front and the dropped top tube on the rear.  The assumption is that the man will be the "captain" and  the woman will be the "stoker."  I guess it's still that way for most couples who ride tandems, but over the years, I've encountered a slowly but steadily increasing number of couples in which the woman is the stronger or more dedicated rider.  

For such couples, a tandem might look more like this:

unless, of course--to use a somewhat dated metaphor--the woman "wears the pants" in the couple.

Whatever their riding roles and styles, they will surely turn heads if they ride this:

Is This California Law A Lemon In Orange County?

Back in October,  a North Carolina law went into effect that, among other things, requires drivers in the Tar Heel State to give cyclists at least four feet of space while passing them.  At the time, both cyclists and motorists praised that provision of the law (House Bill 959), as well as another that allows drivers to cross the center line to pass a cyclist as long as there's "an assured clear distance" ahead and no oncoming traffic.

I have not seen any reports as to the effect the law is, or isn't, having on cyclists' safety.  To be fair, it may be too early to gauge because a change over the course of a few months in either direction could be just a statistical "blip".

Perhaps one could also say it's too early to tell whether a similar law the California Legislature passed in 2014 is having its desired effect.  That law, however, mandates only three feet when a motorist passes a cyclist.  Before the North Carolina's policy went into effect last fall, drivers were only required to give two feet.

I would like to hear what the folks in North Carolina say about their law next year.  If nothing else, it will be interesting whether they recount different experiences from what David Whiting, an Orange County Register columnist, reported after reviewing the coroner's records in his county.

Cyclists in the bike lane of the Pacific Coast Highway in Newport Beach, CA on 9 May.  From the Orange County Register.

Whiting, who says he has cycled roads in his area "for decades", writes that the past decade has averaged one cyclist killed by a motorist every month in Orange County.  That rate has been pretty consistent; so far this year, three cyclists have met their fates at the hands of motorists on Orange County roads.

For the purposes of his report, Whiting counted only those cyclists who were killed in encounters with motorized vehicles and not the ones (smaller in number) who were killed on trails, from falls or when they crashed into parked cars or other vehicles or objects--or the one who was run over by a train.  That makes sense:  Such deaths could not have been prevented by a two-, three- or four-foot, or any other distance, rule.

However, it also makes sense (or seems to) that such rules, whatever the correct or optimal distance may be, might prevent a few motorists from running down cyclists.  It is also fair to ask whether such rules actually work.

If Whiting's conclusion that the law is having little or no effect in Orange County is valid--which, I believe, may be the case--then I think it's necessary to ask why.  

Cyclist and advocate Bill Sellin, who has worked with the Orange County Transportation Authority, says the law has been good for "raising bicycling awareness" but otherwise "ineffective".  One problem, as he sees it, is that the penalties for passing cyclists close enough to scrape off their jerseys are lighter than those for littering.  Another problem, he says, is drunk and otherwise impaired driving.  But even more important, he says, is "addiction to cellphones".  Too many people, he explains, "are no longer paying attention to driving, but paying attention to a device".  

Sellin makes a lot of sense.  Perhaps a three- or four-foot rule, by itself, will not make cyclists safer.  However, if other laws are passed and, more important, enforced in tandem with it, we could see safer roads for both cyclists and motorists.  

Here in New York, we have a law against talking on cellphones while driving that is simply not enforced.  Some, especially among law enforcement in this city, argue that it's unenforceable or that there are "other priorities".  That, I don't understand:  A distracted driver is just as much of a danger, not only to cyclists, but to public safety in general, whether on city streets or rural highways.  

So is one who is intoxicated or under the influence, or with abilities impaired (which, by the way, are not the same thing). While local law enforcement officials and newspapers like to trumpet how many arrests they make, or summonses they give, for such violations, offenders too often get off with light penalties or, if they lose their licenses after repeat offenses, get back their driving privileges in relatively short order.

Whiting, for his part, makes points that make a lot of sense. One of them is that rules requiring motorists to maintain a certain distance won't, by themselves, make cyclists or motorists safer.  Only, as he points out,  more courteous behavior between cyclists and, as Sellin maintains, enforcement of rules against impaired and distracted driving, will make a three-, four- or x number-feet rule meaningful.

Collecting 200 Years Of Bikes

There are all sorts of great reasons to visit the Bourgogne region of France.  There are the food and wine, of course.  If you're interested in art, history or architecture, the place is a treasure-trove.  And the cycling is great.  I know:  three of my bike tours included excursions to the area.

Speaking of which:  In 2010, la Musee du Velo opened in the town of Tournus, which is also home to l'Eglise de Saint Philbert, one of the oldest and best surviving examples of Romanesque architecture.  Earlier, the Musee had been in nearby Cormatin, where it closed due to financial reasons in 2007.  

I saw the museum in its earlier location.  France is known for such monumental museums as the Louvre and Orsay, but small, quirky places like the Musee du Velo are found all over the country.  (If you're in Saumur, you simply must check out the Musee du Champignon. Really!)  

One of the things that makes the Musee du Velo so interesting is its collection.  It includes a version of the hobby-horse Karl van Drais created 200 years ago and is considered, by some, to be the first bicycle.  

Another fascinating artifact is this brake on an 1869 bike:

I hear someone's still trying to break that saddle in!

There are also a number of penny-farthing (high-wheel) machines and one of the first Tour de France bikes to use a derailleur in 1937, when such mechanisms were first permitted in the Tour.

I got a kick out of this 1938 triplet

with its drop bars in front and two moustache bars (No, Grant Petersen didn't invent them!) for the "stokers".  If you want to turn your kids into tandem riders, there is this:

If their legs tire out, let one of them ride this 1950 machine

which can be propelled by pumping the handlebars from side to side!

In addition to these and other bikes, the museum has a fantastic collection of Tour de France memorabilia, items from chinaware to match boxes with images of bicycles and cyclists, and what might be the most beautiful collection of bicycle bells in the world.

The museum's collection might be said to have begun with this:

which was used by a fellow named Michel Grezaud.  He was a butcher in the area during the 1950s who used that trike to make deliveries.

He is also the one who amassed the museum's collection and, with his wife Josette, founded the original museum.  Sadly, he did not live to see it in its new location.

On The Streets And The Silkroad

Today I will start with a quiz.

Take a look at this bike:

Now check out this:

What do they have in common?

Now, if you know anything about either of these bikes, you might think it's absolute heresy to posit that they might share any trait besides two wheels.  The first machine, a Schwinn Clairmont, can be purchased in Wal-Mart and other fine stores. ;-)  

The second, on the other hand, is a Silkroad from Tout Terrain.  Somehow I don't expect to see it parked on a street near me, or anywhere else.

So what trait could such disparate bikes share?

Believe it or not, it's in the frame!

All right, I'll tell you:  They both have rear racks that are integral to their frames.  In other words, you can't remove them.

Such an arrangement has been uncommon for a long time.  Interestingly, even it was more common, it was found on bikes at the top and bottom of the price spectrum.  

Once upon a time, British and French custom builders made frames of which the rear carrier--intended to lug loaded panniers and other items for long tours--were constructed as part of the frame.  Of course, those were special-order items and customers would wait months, or even years, for theirs. 

I recall seeing a Jack Taylor tandem and Rene Herse single built in this way.  I tried finding photos of bikes like them, to no avail.  

You won't find such an integrated carrier/frame on anything but a bike dedicated to loaded touring, even from the elite builders I've mentioned.  I'm not sure that any of today's builders construct bikes in that way:  It is an extremely labor-intensive process, and if the height of a stay is off even by a little, the carrier--and possibly the frame--will be misaligned.  

Also, the market for fully-loaded tourers---even during the peak of their popularity (at least here in the US) during the early- and mid-1980s--has always been small.  Not many people want a bike that is so purpose-specific:  Few cyclists go on more than one long tour in their lives.  Most cyclists, understandably, would rather press their racing or trekking bike into touring service and remove the racks and bags once the tour is over.

Of course, loaded touring is not the only purpose for which an integrated rack is useful.  They also make a lot of sense on cargo bikes, or even city bikes that are abused.  I think those purposes are the ones Tout Terrain had in mind when they designed the Silkroad and other models.  

But you have to wonder for what purpose--other than big-box store sales--the Schwinn Clairmont was designed. Perhaps it is meant to evoke balloon-tired kids' bikes sold in the US during the 1940s and 1950s, some of which came with built-in racks.  The funny thing is that on such bikes--from the likes of Columbia, AMF and other low-budget manufacturers--the rear racks were seldom used to carry books, sneakers or anything else besides other kids.

If anyone from Tout Terrain (or Peter White, who seems to be their main dealer here in the US) is reading this, I hope you are not offended by my comparison.  I simply find it ironic that your bikes can have something in common with a bike that just might disintegrate in the very spot where I saw and photographed it (with my cell phone) today--or end up in a landfill in a year or two.

Exposing "What Have We Here"

Now I'm going to expose you to some real "bike porn."

I stripped a bike bare.  Yes, stripped it.  And photographed it when it was in a compromised position. 

I'm so heartless and exploitative, aren't I?

Well, I didn't strip the bike completely bare.  Three parts that came with the bike--and which I intend to use--are on it.

That thing clamped near the bottom bracket is a cable guide.  The only things brazed to this frame are a "stop" on the underside of the downtube for the shift-lever clamp and a cable guide on the chainstay.  When this Trek was made, such an arrangement was common.

Somewhat more significant is a part you can't see:  a Sakae Ringyo Laprade seatpost. In keeping with the time the bike was made, it's fluted.  

Sakae Ringyo (SR) Laprade

But most important, it's good.  In fact, some might say that it's the first modern seatpost.  That is wrong only because its design copied the French Laprade seatpost made by a small company called JPR.  Very few of those posts made it here to the 'States--or, from what I can tell, anywhere outside of France. 

JPR Laprade seatpost

SR's version is slightly heavier but, frankly, has a nicer finish (much as it pains me, as a Francophile, to say such a thing) and cost a fraction of the French version.  Moreover, SR was one of the major original-equipment suppliers to bike manufacturers of the 1970's and 1980's.  Finally, it seems that SR offered a greater variety of sizes than JPR did.  So guess what people bought when they upgraded their old bikes or built new ones?

The rest, as they say, is history:  Most modern seatposts adapted the Laprade design: one easily-accessible bolt on the underside of the clamp.  In fact, some companies even call their versions "Laprade-style" seatposts.  The Nitto seatposts on my Mercians all share the design.

The third part on the frame turned out to be one of the most pleasant surprises on this bike.  I took apart the headset to clean and grease it

Yes!  Roller bearings!  That means it's the legendary Stronglight A9 headset.  Best of all, it's alloy, not the plastic version that came on some bikes of that era.  

Stronglight A9:  the headset that came with this bike

That headset is almost as nice of a surprise as the Phil Wood rear hub that came with the bike.  One of my loyal readers asked about that hub, and we're working out a swap.  I would have kept it, except that it's 48 hole.  As I don't think I'll ever own a tandem, I really don't need that hub.

I sold the crankset that came with the bike.  It's an SR forged set, with a nice finish, but it has an obsolete bolt pattern (118 BCD).  I'm guessing the buyer (on eBay, where else?) is doing a period restoration. I could have gotten satisfactory gearing with that crankset, but I'm going to use another that will make it easier to get useful (for me) gearing.  Don't worry:  It has a classic five-bolt spider and doesn't look like a Christmas ornament left on a radiator and painted with anime graphics.

So far, I think I lucked out:  Remember, this bike came from an estate sale!

Letting The Cat Out Of My Randonneur Bag

I just did something dangerous.

It was even more risky than riding my old Bontrager Race Lite with a Rock Shox Judy down the steps of Montmartre.  Or rappelling from a rock face over white waters to a rocky shore.  

Those stunts could have left me maimed.  But of course I didn't believe that was going to happen to me; otherwise, I never would have done them. Truth be told, I knew that neither of them would last any longer than "the pause that refreshes", if you know what I mean. 

But what I did could have taken away hours that I will never get back.  You see, in the middle of reading those stacks of papers that seem to multiply no matter how much time I spend reading, I needed a diversion.  I was going to go for a bike ride, but I might not have come back--or at least gotten back to the task at hand.  

So, instead of a bike trip, I took a side trip on Google.  

Hmm..So that's what Max does when I'm not home.

And he's famous.  How did I not know?

And he dismounts even more gracefully than I do!

Please, don't tell me that Max and Marlee crashed the tandem:

I don't have a tandem.  But I don't want them to crash anything?

When I fix stuff, Marlee feels the need to inspect:

She says she can't help because--get this--"I don't have opposable thumbs!"

Do all cats use that excuse?

Sometimes I think that if dogs try to please humans, cats try to be as much like humans as possible without actually being human.  I am especially conscious of that when I'm leaving for work on a cold, wet, raw day and see Max and Marlee curled up on the couch.

Now tell me:  Which is the more intelligent species?

The Wheels Are Turning...

So...back to my estate-sale find.

A few days ago, I started to mention what I might do about the wheels.  The front wheel that came with the bike was a "goner".  That made me want to build another rear because the wheels that came with it have 27 inch rims and tires.  I haven't used that size in years and no longer have it in any of my spare parts.  I really would like not to buy any new ones.

But the rear wheel is laced to a Phil Wood hub, which I would love to use.  The problem is, it has 48 spokes.  I don't have any rims in that pattern, though I'm sure I could get one--at least in a 700C size, which I probably will use.  However, I think it might be more difficult to find in the 650B size, which I am also considering.

I think I will end up building 700C wheels for a few  reasons.  One is that I have some 700C rims drilled for 36 spokes.  They include Mavic Open Pros and Sun CR-18s.  I would probably use the latter, as I want to use 32C (or possibly even wider) tires and the CR-18 would look more "right" with the other equipment, I think.  Plus, I like to keep the Open Pros (which I bought on sales) as spares for my Mercians.

Another reason why I'm leaning toward 700C is that if I go to 650B, I will definitely need new brakes.  I know I could probably get a good buy on those long-arm Tektros or something else,  so my reluctance to spend money is only somewhat of a factor.  More important, from the measurements I've made and charts I've looked at, even those long Tektros might not have enough reach for 650B.  Remember, the bike was made for 27 inch rims, which are even larger in diameter than 700s, let alone 650s.

Whichever way I go, though, I think I know which hubs I'll use.

Turns out, this rear Sansin Gyromaster is the sealed-bearing model.  From what I understand, it's the one Specialized rebranded for those great touring bikes they made in the early and mid-'80's.  It's also the one SunTour rebranded for one of its groupsets--the Cyclone, I think.





So I know it's a good hub, and appropriate for the bike.  Best of all, the locknut-to-locknut width is 126mm (actually, 127mm according to my calipers):  the width of the dropouts on the bike. It has 36 holes, just like my rims. And it just so happens I opened it up not too long ago and put in some fresh grease.

I'll do the same for this Suzue sealed bearing front hub, which also has 36 holes.  I recall that this hub came as original equipment on some of those nice touring bikes Miyata, Panasonic and other companies were making around the time my Trek was built.  If I'm not mistaken, it also came on some Treks--but not mine.

So, if I use those hubs--which I probably will--I eventually will have to decide what to do with the rear wheel that came with the bike. I suppose I could keep it, though I don't know when I'll use it, as I'll probably never build a tandem or a fully-loaded touring bike with 27 inch wheels.  I suppose I could try to sell it, though the market for a 27 inch wheel of that kind might be kind of limited.  (If someone out there has an old Schwinn Paramount tandem...)  Or I could take the wheel apart and try to sell the hub...and, if anyone wants a vintage Super Champion 58 rim in 27 inch with 48 holes, that, too.

So, in brief, 700 would be the practical choice and 650B would be an experiment.  

Ah, choices...