Call Me Paranoid, But....

You get pulled over, whether you're cycling or driving, even though you're within the speed limit and aren't violating any other laws.  Or a sales clerk follows you around a department store when you don't have any of the store's merchandise on you.  Or you don't get a promotion or raise given to someone who is, or seems, no better or worse an employee than you.  Or, worse, you're summoned into the HR office at your workplace to defend yourself against questionable or simply false allegations.

After such experiences, you might wonder, "Why me?"  If you are a member of a group of people who lives under suspicion--say, you are a young black male or someone who is, or merely "looks", Muslim or Middle Eastern--or merely someone who looks like you're "not from around here", you can't help but to think that your appearance or identity might have something to do with it.  And, in the workplace situations I've described, you can't help but to believe--too often, with justification (Trust me, I've been in such situations!) that someone in your organization "has it in for you" just because of who you are.

It's easy to feel the things I've described in the previous paragraph if you are cycling, particularly in some place where there aren't many adult cyclists or where people are, for whatever reasons, hostile to cyclists.  Or, worse, if you encounter some traffic cop on a motorcycle who has nothing better to do and, being on a bike, you are an easier target in his quest to make his ticket quota for that month.

Lately, other cyclists and I have felt a similar kind of unease--some might call it paranoia.  Within the past week or so, a number of localities have passed, or merely discussed, ordinances that have no other purpose than to harass, or simply discourage, cyclists.  And it's hard not to wonder whether the inauguration of Trump has something to do with it:  Could velophobic legislators and law enforcement officials feel empowered by the Bike Hater-in-Chief in much the same way xenophobes and bigots have felt emboldened to carry out acts of hate?

I want to thank dear reader Coline--who lives in Scotland, no less!--for pointing out two of the latest pieces of legislative lunacy.

The first comes from the state of Montana, where there is a draft bill that, if passed, would ban cyclists from riding on two-lane country roads that lack shoulders. Now, I have never been to Montana, but the article Coline sent me corroborates what I've heard from people who've been to The Treasure State:  most of the state's roads--and, basically, all of the roads outside of the towns (aside from the Interstates)--fit that description.  What that means, of course, is that cycling would be off-limits in much of the state.

What sort of message does that send to some fourteen- or fifteen-year-old in a state that is already automobile-centric?  If that kid can't get from one town or another--let alone ride for fun--he or she is likely to say, "To hell with it; I'll have my license soon!"  And, of course, such a ban would deter folks who might have considered a vacation there.  Personally, I wouldn't want to take a trip somewhere if I couldn't ride--unless I were going, say, to climb a mountain or hike a glacier.

Roads like this could soon be off-limits to cyclists in Montana.

The bill also contains another stipulation that would discourage riding:  Cyclists always have to ride single-file, no matter how large their group or how wide the road.  Hmm...Isn't discouraging social interaction among people of a group, or in a particular situation (such a workplace), the easiest way to "divide and conquer"?  That, of course, is what tyrants have always done to exert power over people they want to subjugate.  (Why do you think the slave-merchants brought people from different African clans and tribes aboard their ships?  Those captives didn't speak each other's languages and therefore were kept in a captivity even more pernicious than the chains that bound them.)

Will Montana's new motto be "Where Cycling Died"? 

The second authoritarian absurdity to which Coline alerted me comes from California.  Actually, it falls best into the category of nanny-state nonsense.  While Montana's bill is not yet up for a vote, the ridiculous regulation I'm about to describe became law in the Golden State on the first day of this year.  

Section 27400 of the California Vehicle Code prohibits a person from wearing "a headset covering, earplugs in or earphones covering , resting on or inserted in both ears" while cycling.  It calls for a fine of $178 for a violation.

Now, I want to say that I never ride with any sort of listening device in my ears.  When I'm riding in traffic, I want to be as alert as I can be to traffic and other parts of my surroundings.  When I'm riding in a more bucolic area, I prefer to listen to ambient sounds such as tides and wind or, if there are no such sounds, to simply enjoy the silence.  If I am riding with other cyclists, I cannot interact with them if my ears are plugged and Metallica or whatever is blaring in them.


That said, I can think of no reason to outlaw ear peices or headphones for cyclists.  As the article I've linked explains, if the practice poses any danger, it's only to the cyclists themselves.  Also, as the article points out, there are clusters of cyclists who wear devices while riding. They include urban areas where people are riding to work, doing errands or taking their kids to the park.  They also include college campuses.  Such places are easy targets for police officers who are over-zealous or simply see an easy target.  I don't think it's a stretch to say that the law, like those against loitering (which can be interpreted in all sorts of ways) targets people who have little wealth and power.  In other words, it's a law after Trump's own heart!

When An Iris Doesn't Fit: Twofish

All four of my Mercians have a few things in common besides, well, being Mercians.  For example, they all have Phil Wood hubs and bottom brackets, Zefal HPX pumps, Brooks saddles and at least one part from Nitto.  In addition, all of them have Ruth Works bags, made by Ely Rodriguez, attached to them.

They also have King headsets.  Arielle, Tosca, Helene and Vera are also have another King in common:  water bottle cages, specifically the Iris model.  I have been very happy with them:  They are easy to use, hold the bottle well, don't bend and haven't shown any signs of breaking or even wear.  And, yes, I like the way they look.

Only recently have I discovered a "problem" with King Iris cages.  Actually, it would not have been a problem if I hadn't stumbled across the 1981 Trek I've been working on.  That frame doesn't have braze-on mounts for water bottle cages.  Most Bike Boom-era ten-speeds, even high-quality ones like my Romic and Peugeot PX-10, didn't have them. Around the time my Trek was made, a good bike was as likely as not  to have brazed-on water bottle mounts.

Most water bottle cages of that time, whether the high-quality ones from Specialites TA, Blackburn or REG, had tabs for clamps (which sometimes were supplied with the cages) as well as mounting holes.  On the other hand, many modern cages--like my Irises--do not have the provision for clamps and are made only for braze-ons.

I know that adapters are available.  Basically, they are plastic bands or zip-ties cinched with a plastic boss that contains a nut into which the cage is bolted.  I have never tried them, so for all I know, they may work just fine.  But I don't think they're worth $15.  Also, they just wouldn't look right on the Trek (or, for that matter, any other decent bike).

So, the obvious solution is to use a classic or classic-style cage with clamps.  Turns out, I had clamps but not, to my surprise, cages I could use with them.  So, I searched for some vintage or vintage-style cages.  In particular, I would have loved to find the single-clamp model TA made for a few years.  Back in the day, they cost about $4 or $5 new.  The ones I found on eBay were listed for $50 or more, and some of them looked as if they were fished out of the nearest bayou.  And other classic steel cages--or even the old Blackburn alloy ones and the near-clones made by Minoura and other companies--were expensive and some, shall we say, looked as if they had been more than used.  

Finally, I came across something that looks like a stainless steel version of those early Blackburn cages:


The welds on it are very clean and the finish is nice.  It weighs about twice as much as the Iris, or almost any other modern stainless steel cage:  The manufacturer lists a weight of 96 grams.  Then again, almost any vintage steel cage weighs at least that much--and if I were so concerned about weight, I wouldn't be putting my effort into a bike like the Trek 412, would I?

The cage is made in the USA by Twofish.  They make a similar cage with an attachment that allows it to be strapped onto a frame.  People seem to like it, but I would rather go with the more traditional clamp setup, especially on a vintage bike.

Perhaps the best part of all is the price.  When I bought my  Iris cages, I paid $14 to $17 each. To me, such prices are entirely reasonable for good-quality stainless steel cages, especially ones made in the USA.  And Ron Andrews makes those cages (as well as the titanium version) by hand in his Durango,Colorado garage.

Now, I don't know whether equally colorful individuals or little elves in Sequoia trees weld the Twofish cages.  But they are made in this country, in California:  one of the highest-wage states.  So imagine my delight in finding this cage for $10.50.

Unlike most modern cages, this one has "tabs" that will accommodate vintage-style metal water bottle clamps.  The ones I have will fit just fine.

And I think it will look right, and fine, on the Trek.  That is what matters most, doesn't it?

If You Can See The Difference....

One of my favorite bloggers is The Retrogrouch.  So, I intend no disrespect to him with this post.

He is, of course, not the only cyclist to refer to himself as a Retrogrouch.  I am mainly in sympathy with him and the others who so identify themselves:  I ride steel frames, hand-laced wheels, downtube shifters (on my geared bikes), pedals with toe clips and Brooks saddles (except on my LeTour).  And all of my cranksets have square tapered axles.

On the other hand, I ride cassette hubs on my geared bikes (though the Trek 412 I'm building will have a screw-on freewheel).  The chief reasons are convenience and availablity:  No high-quality multiple-sprocket freewheels are made today (All of the good ones are single-speed.)  and most of the new-old-stock freewheels one can find on eBay and in other places have gear ratios that are useless to me.  (I am "of a certain age" and don't race, so what can I do with a 12-13-14-15-16-17-18?)  The unusued ones command exorbitant prices, while buying a used one is risky:  Your chain may or may not play nice with it.

And, as you can see from the photos in my sidebars, some of my components are black.   Some see that as a sign of a "sell-out", but there were indeed black components in the '70's and earlier.   Even the high priests of "shiny silver" at Velo Orange (which is actually one of my favorite online retailers) concede as much.

So, having said my piece about Retrogrouches, I want to introduce another species or clan or tribe (depending on your point of view) of cyclists.  I will call them Retrogeeks.  

Now, Retrogeeks and Retrogrouches are not mutually exclusive.  In fact, many can be identified, and would identify themselves, by both monikers.  One notable exception would be the late, great Sheldon Brown:  His encyclopaedic knowledge of all things bicycle made him a Retrogeek but, although he rode mainly steel frames and many older components, he did not think old is always better than new.  So he is not a Retrogrouch, though some have called him that.

One hallmark of a Retrogeek is that he or she knows authentic vintage bikes and parts from ersatz ones, and can tell whether or not an old bike or part was modified. Today, I am going to conduct a sort of Rorsach test that might help you to begin to figure out whether or not you are a Retrogeek.  Take a look at this photo:

Now take a look at this:

They are both images of the old Zefal Competition pump.  With its color scheme, you probably wouldn't be surprised to know that many pro and semi-professional French bikes of the '60's and '70's came with it.  The only other portable bike pump that was considered its equal (or, in some eyes, its better) was the Silca Impero.

What is the difference between the two Competitions in the first two photos?

If you look at the first two photos in this post, you will see that the pump in the second has the traditional press-on valve fitting, like the ones available for Silca pumps. To my knowledge, all Competitions came with it.  The pump in the first photo, in contrast, has a thumb-lock fitting--from a Zefal HP pump, the Competition's successor.

Pity that poor HP.  Had it been functional, I probably would use it on the Trek 412 I'm putting together:  It was the pump of choice at the time the bike was made.  Apart from the finish (polished on the Competition, silver anodized on the HP) and the color scheme, the only difference between the Competition and HP is in the head.

One nice thing about the Silcas is that you can change the head simply by twisting it off.  A Zefal head, on the other hand, attaches to one of the strangest-looking screws ever made

all the way inside the body.  Zefal used to make a tool for the purpose.  The only one I ever saw (or used before today) resided on Frank's toolbench in Highland Park (NJ) Cyclery, where I worked.

From Yellow Jersey

A screwdriver with a long flat blade would unscrew it--as long as the shaft is about 400mm long. (At least, I think that's how long the Zefal tool was.)  My longest screwdriver is only 12 inches (about 300mm).  So I resorted to another implement

or, I should say, collection of implements.  Assembled, it makes me think more of a crane--or of something made with an Erector Set-- than of any other hand tool I have ever seen or used.  

It consists of a 3/8" socket drive with two extensions--  one of 10 inches (250mm), the other 6 inches (150mm), a 3/8"-to-1/4" adapter and the blade assembly from one of my reversible screwdrivers which--wonder of wonders!--fit into the 1/4" socket.

Getting the screw out wasn't difficult.  But reassembling was a bit trickier.  I dropped the screw into the pump shaft and jiggled it until the threads protruded from the bottom.  Then I inserted my contraption and held it against the screw and screwed the head on for a couple of threads.  You can't screw it on all the way since the hole at the bottom of the pump has a hexagonal shape, into which the inner lip of the pump end fits.  

So, after threading the head onto the screw for a couple of threads, I rotated the pump body until the hexagonal lip of the pump head skid slid into the hexagonal hole at the bottom of the pump body (easily yet snugly:  the parts were well-machined). Of course, I lightly greased the hexagonal parts and the screw threads before re-assembling everything--and, between disassembly and reassembly, I cleaned out the shaft and gave the inside a light coating of fresh grease.

The "operation" was a success:  I pumped two tires to full pressure (90 PSI).  Yes, I cleaned out the head before I re-assembled the pump.

I know I could have kept the Competition as it was.  I ride only Presta valves, so the press-on fitting would have worked just fine. (I know:  I used both Silcas and Zefal Competitions for years.)  But it is easier to pump high-pressure tires with the thumb-lock attachment.  Plus, I now have a pump that nobody (or, at least, hardly anybody) else has.  Don't worry:  I saved the original Competition head and screw, just in case I decide to convert it back.

Now, if you've been following this blog for the past few weeks, you can guess which bike is getting this pump.

Going Dutch--Into The Wind

I haven't spent a lot of time in the Netherlands, and it's been a while since I've been there.  So I won't claim to be any kind of an expert on the country or its people, both of which I loved.  I will, however, offer an impression, which relates to a comment on yesterday's post.

Like just about every place I've ever visited, the Netherlands and the Dutch people have their paradoxes. They can be most readily seen in, I believe, their art.  This is a nation, remember, that has given the world Vermeer, Rembrandt and Mondrian as well as Collin van der Sluijs and, of course, Van Gogh.  The contradictions can also be seen in the country's history and social policy:  More than a few historians and econominsts have argued that capitalism as we know it began in the Netherlands in the 16th Century, but in more recent years it has become famous for having a social "safety net" that is tightly woven even by the standards of its western European neighbors.  Also, the country that embraced the social order of Calvinism more than any other would become among the first to legalize same-sex marriage, heroin and other drugs and the right to die.  And, finally, what other nation could have produced a politician like Pim Fortuyn, who famously declared, "I'm not a racist.  I like Arab boys!" ?

I mention all of those things because, if you know about them, what the commenter brought to my attention makes perfect sense.  Perhaps an orderly society creates the need for people to do crazy things:  Sports like bungee-jumping aren't invented in places like Syria and western Sudan.  Mountain biking was born in America, not Afghanistan.  

So a competition that forces cyclists to pedal into 100 kph headwinds would originate--where else?--in the land of tulips and stroopwafels.  Oh, it gets even better:  The riders aren't astride the latest aerodynamic carbon-fiber bikes.  Since they are riding in the Netherlands, they are required to ride--what else?--Dutch-style city bikes.  You know, the kind in which the rider sits up like a dog begging for the treat in his owner's hand.  The kind with fully-enclosed chainguards and wheel covering so extensive that you can pedal to your wedding in your gown or tux.



Naturally, the Headwinds Championship is run along the Oosterscheldekering storm barrier that protects the land from the sea, but not the riders (or anybody or anything else) from wind.  I have alongside seawalls and other coastal barriers, so I know that if the wind is blowing the right (wrong?) way, they can act as funnels or tunnels, especially if the barrier is on an isthmus or some other narrow strip of land.

The competition is organized on short notice, so as to all but ensure the worst possible conditions.  I wonder whether the race is organized by the same folks who put together the Paris-Roubaix race.  I wouldn't be surprised if some of them are Dutch!

Pumping And Sailing

A couple of days ago, I returned from a week in Florida.  Aside from a couple of brief spells of rain, which passed quickly, the days were sunny and warm, so  I did a fair amount of riding.

Now, I know that spending a week or two there every year hardly makes me an expert on cycling in the Sunshine State.  But I can comment on something I've noticed whenever I've ridden there:  wind.  I wouldn't say there is more of it than in New York. It is however, more noticeable, as the terrain is flat and even in the urban areas, the buildings aren't as densely clustered--and certainly not as tall!--as in even the most suburban neighborhoods of New York.  

When I rode to St. Augustine from my parents' house, I pedaled into a fairly stiff wind almost the entire way there.  The flip-side of that, of course, is that I breezed back:  I completed the 52.5 kilometers back to my parents' house in about half an hour less than it took me to pedal the same distance to St. Augustine.  I had a similar experience in riding to Daytona Beach, although the wind wasn't quite as stiff.  On the other hand, on another ride, I breezed down to Ormond Beach but fought the wind on my way back.

Today the wind will be much stiffer than anything I experienced last week:  Gusts of 80-110 KPH are predicted.  This would certainly be a day to plan a ride into the wind and with it coming home!  The thing is, though the cross-winds could be really tough.  

Hmm...If I could manage to ride into the wind for a bit, perhaps my ride home could look something like this: