Dec 2, 2007
working bicycles
A great Flickr set of Working Bicycles. Will post more on this later, but wanted to share the visuals now.
Nov 30, 2007
new bike! part 4: road test
I was going for solid, and I got solid. My impression after one week of riding is that this is a big boy bike. I'm very happy with it. The Cross-Check has the same forward zoom that the RB-1 had when stomping on the pedals. The bigger tires absorb all sorts of road noise, and despite all the crap I bolted to it, there's not a rattle or squeak in the whole lot.
The relatively slack front end will take some getting used to. The Cross-Check is a good replacement geometry-wise for the RB-1 everywhere except the head tube angle, which is 72 degrees to the RB-1's 74. Add to that a bit more fork rake, and you wind up with a bit of weird side-to-side behavior. The RB-1 handled perfectly, never too fast or too slow. In contrast, the first time I sprinted on the Cross-Check, I felt the bars go a little funny and wound up about three feet off my line. A bit alarming, but I think that's just a matter of getting the muscle memory to find my center of balance. And other than that one quirk, I love the ride. The bike tracks dead straight in all but that full-on sprint, and has a pleasing, springy ability to go a little faster with just the slightest effort. I paced next to a cab that desperately wanted to invade my bike lane this morning on 21st Street, and when he accelerated to get past me, I just tapped the pedals a bit harder, my speed jumped up to keep pace, and I shepherded him back to the car lanes.
It's not perfect-- yet. But pretty much everything I dislike about the ride is tweakable. The Brooks saddle is brand new, hard and slippery. It will eventually break in, but It's also extremely hard to get it in the right position; it seems like the minutest up-and-down adjustment requires a front-to-rear adjustment as well, and vice versa. I'm making tiny tweaks still. I also slide all over the slick saddle, changing my balance involuntarily.
The handlebars, as well, aren't yet as comfortable as I'd hoped. When riding with my hands on the brake hoods, the outside bend of the bars catches me in the heel of the hand. Some bar/lever positioning is in the cards. Also, the drops are a bit far down for me to remain in comfortably without a few more yoga sessions. I think I may need a stem with a few degrees more rise.
All in all, though, very happy. This is a bike I know I could ride out the front door on, and make it to Patagonia.
The relatively slack front end will take some getting used to. The Cross-Check is a good replacement geometry-wise for the RB-1 everywhere except the head tube angle, which is 72 degrees to the RB-1's 74. Add to that a bit more fork rake, and you wind up with a bit of weird side-to-side behavior. The RB-1 handled perfectly, never too fast or too slow. In contrast, the first time I sprinted on the Cross-Check, I felt the bars go a little funny and wound up about three feet off my line. A bit alarming, but I think that's just a matter of getting the muscle memory to find my center of balance. And other than that one quirk, I love the ride. The bike tracks dead straight in all but that full-on sprint, and has a pleasing, springy ability to go a little faster with just the slightest effort. I paced next to a cab that desperately wanted to invade my bike lane this morning on 21st Street, and when he accelerated to get past me, I just tapped the pedals a bit harder, my speed jumped up to keep pace, and I shepherded him back to the car lanes.
It's not perfect-- yet. But pretty much everything I dislike about the ride is tweakable. The Brooks saddle is brand new, hard and slippery. It will eventually break in, but It's also extremely hard to get it in the right position; it seems like the minutest up-and-down adjustment requires a front-to-rear adjustment as well, and vice versa. I'm making tiny tweaks still. I also slide all over the slick saddle, changing my balance involuntarily.
The handlebars, as well, aren't yet as comfortable as I'd hoped. When riding with my hands on the brake hoods, the outside bend of the bars catches me in the heel of the hand. Some bar/lever positioning is in the cards. Also, the drops are a bit far down for me to remain in comfortably without a few more yoga sessions. I think I may need a stem with a few degrees more rise.
All in all, though, very happy. This is a bike I know I could ride out the front door on, and make it to Patagonia.
Nov 25, 2007
new bike! part three: customization
Note: This is going to be a long and detailed post, but some folks out there might be looking to set up commuting bikes or buying a Cross-Check, and I want to share my parts-gathering process since I am an opinionated, obsessive, unapologetic bike nerd.
When my new CC arrived, I knew it wasn't really mine yet. I have all sorts of bicycle habits, preferences, preconceived notions, obsessions, tastes, peeves and annoyances which must be worked through via careful selection of new parts, application of tools, and rootings through the Box Of Old Parts.
OK, first things first: the graphics on the Surly are UGLY. Yes, they're a quirky bike manufacturer, and Surly itself is a great name for a bike company (reminds me of an older mechanic I used to work with whose dream if he won the lottery was to open his own bike shop called Rude's, from whence he'd insult any patrons until they left. Kinda like a bicycle version of the record shop in High Fidelity). And yes, the paint is inoffensive (can't go wrong with solid, neutral colors). But the graphics are cheesy in an early-90s Mountain Dew commercial sort of way. I have to admit one of the things that sold me on Surly was the fact that they don't clear-coat their decals, and therefore I could remove them without screwing up the paint. That was step one in the reclamation process: removal of all stickers. While I was at it, I removed the tubing sticker, the lawyerly warning about closing your quick-release properly, and as many other brand names as I could scrape off. Also removed were the cheezy reflectors on cheezy plastic mounts (I later added lights).
Note to anyone who wants to try it: some of the forums recommend that applying some heat with a hair dryer or heat gun. I didn't do that. I had great success with scraping carefully with a straight-edge razor blade at room temperature... UNTIL, that is, I put a couple of nasty gouges in the paint. Not recommended. I'd listen to those folks and their heat.
Some other things became readily apparent on the inaugural ride home from the shop. Most obviously, the cockpit setup was pretty unworkable. The Salsa Bell Lap bars were way too wide for city riding. The boxy Tektro levers didn't have a good feel when riding on the hoods (sorta like holding a deck of cards in each hand). The bar-end shifters were waaay too far away. And the black tape? Just boring. So basically I loosened the cables, unbolted the bars from the stem and started over from scratch.
With the bike stripped except for crank, derailleurs and seatpost, here's how I built it back up. Half the parts came from Velo Orange, a shop specializing in retro randonneur equipment, and the other half from Universal Cycles. A couple of others were in my garage already.
Part #1: Nitto "Noodle" bars, 41cm. Comfy, light bar, elegant bend, silver, and crowned with the goofy Nitto heraldic crest (how does a parts company based in Tokyo decide that the brand image they need is medieval helmets and crossed broadswords?). More importantly, they're narrow enough to avoid car side mirrors, almost 5 inches narrower than the stock bars at the bar ends.
Part #2: Shimano Ultegra STI shifters. The big purchase, but this is the interface to the bike. I spend most of my riding time with my hands on the drops and I've just gotten used to being able to brake and shift at will. Frequently both at once, such as on that weird access ramp on the Manhattan side of the Manhattan Bridge. Invaluable for city riding. The Cross-Check comes with a Shimano drivetrain, so I could leave the rest intact.
Part #3: Cinelli cork tape in Natural. A classic. Two layers for the cushy cushy. Finished with a pair of Velox rubber bar end plugs I had laying around (I have never had a Cinelli plastic bar end plug stay in more than three months).
Part #4: DMR V8 Pedals. The CC delivered with crap pedals (as most high-end bikes do these days, since manufacturers assume you're going to replace them with whatever matches your shoes). I don't wear cycling shoes. In fact I don't really wear any cycling-specific clothing these days except rain gear. As such, I put on a pair of middle-of-the-road DMR mountain bike platform pedals. Big, durable, symmetrical so there's no mucking about with tipping your toes into them at traffic lights. Just stomp on 'em and go. Added bonus: the gray ones almost match the Surly gray. Almost.
Bonus Part #5 (Super Impulse Purchase): Paul NeoRetro Brakes. OK, this was a little unnecessary, but my gear-fetishist tendencies kicked in and I convinced myself I had to have 'em. I have a thing for strong, simple brake calipers. I like having springs that you really have to exert some pressure on (I still have a set of Deore XT brakes from 1990 that I am jealously guarding). The recent trend towards light, fingertip-control brakes is nice in the shop, but after two months of poor maintenance they feel like cardboard. These Paul brakes, with their machine-shop lines and tough-as-you-want-to-crank-'em spring tensioners really appealed. Plus, they're based on 1950's French Mafac Racer brakes, which are just gorgeous. Hell, you only live once.
Part #6: Brooks B17 saddle. I've never owned a old-skool riveted leather saddle, but I've never met anyone who's owned one who's regretted it. The break-in period's a bitch but afterwards it's like butter. I'm in the break-in period. Ow. Can't beat the looks, tho.
Part #7: Brass bell, with Velo Orange headset spacer mount. Nifty little bell, pre-mounted to a headset spacer so it rides next to the stem instead of on the bar tops. I like having clean handlebars (both visually, and for the extra hand position on long rides), so this was a great idea. In practice the jury is still out. First of all, it speaks very quietly. When commuting in NYC, you are frequently ringing a bell to signal "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY!" A polite little Japanese bell may not do the same trick (I had an Incredibell on the RB-1 that did). Also, the stem mount is hard to ring, especially with gloves. But, damn, it looks nice.
Part #8: Nitto front rack. A weird, vintage looking little front rack that I bought thinking "I can make that do something", but I wasn't sure what. Once mounted, though, she's a keeper. For starters, it is beautifully made, polished to a mirror finish. It wound up serving as an extra mounting point for fenders, a mount for a light (keeping yet another damn accessory off the handlebars), and occasionally, a rack. I discovered this weekend that a full plastic grocery bag slung over the handlebars so that the bag handles catch on the stem will nestle quite nicely on this rack as if by design.
Part #9: Honjo "hammertone" Fenders, extra long. Oh yes. Yes yes yes. These are the shit, a Japanese reproduction of a 1950s French design. Handmade. And uber-cool looking. And LIGHT (I think they are lighter than plastic fenders)! And very solidly mounted. The RB-1 had very little clearance so I could only fit thin plastic fenders that easily cracked. I went through about 4 pairs in 8 years (at $20-$30 bucks a shot), so spending $79 on the Most Beautiful Bike Accessory In The World was thoroughly worth it to me. They're tricky to mount (took me about 3 hours to do it right), but amazingly enough, there's a Flickr group dedicated to Honjo fender mounting. With the closeup pix of a half-dozen real world installs bettering any instruction manual, I got the job done. Not a creak or a rattle. Of course, I added my pix after the install too.
Part #10: Tubus Cosmo rack. I wanted a rack that would fit well, wouldn't break, and would be sufficient if needed on a long loaded tour. Trekkers seem to swear by Tubus and/or Jandd Expedition racks. The Tubus Logo and Cosmo get the load lower and further back (which avoids a problem with heel clearance on larger frames like mine), and the Cosmo has that great indestructible stainless steel finish. I can't come this far and cheese out, can I? Cosmo it is. I've never owned a rack with such a solid and sensible connection to the frame. No wimpy stamped sheet metal tabs here, but two 8mm dowels of solid aluminum. This thing feels like I could tow a truck with it. If you get one, make sure to get the 2007 model with the wider deck and flared tailpiece that protects the taillight. Finally, I put the Cosmo's beefy German-spec taillight mount to good use with a car-blinding Busch and Müller taillight/reflector, like a cherry atop a bicycle sundae.
Total cost: about $1900. Up there, but really not super-crazy. This is, after all, every-day all-weather transportation for me, and the alternative of spending $4 a day on the subway adds up to a similar amount after just a couple of years. Plus, good shit doesn't break very often. Throw in the health benefits and the enjoyment I get out of well-made gear, and it's money very well spent.
More pix of the Crosscheck, in process and completed.
So, how's it ride? Is there something wrong with me if I push this to part 4?
When my new CC arrived, I knew it wasn't really mine yet. I have all sorts of bicycle habits, preferences, preconceived notions, obsessions, tastes, peeves and annoyances which must be worked through via careful selection of new parts, application of tools, and rootings through the Box Of Old Parts.OK, first things first: the graphics on the Surly are UGLY. Yes, they're a quirky bike manufacturer, and Surly itself is a great name for a bike company (reminds me of an older mechanic I used to work with whose dream if he won the lottery was to open his own bike shop called Rude's, from whence he'd insult any patrons until they left. Kinda like a bicycle version of the record shop in High Fidelity). And yes, the paint is inoffensive (can't go wrong with solid, neutral colors). But the graphics are cheesy in an early-90s Mountain Dew commercial sort of way. I have to admit one of the things that sold me on Surly was the fact that they don't clear-coat their decals, and therefore I could remove them without screwing up the paint. That was step one in the reclamation process: removal of all stickers. While I was at it, I removed the tubing sticker, the lawyerly warning about closing your quick-release properly, and as many other brand names as I could scrape off. Also removed were the cheezy reflectors on cheezy plastic mounts (I later added lights).
Note to anyone who wants to try it: some of the forums recommend that applying some heat with a hair dryer or heat gun. I didn't do that. I had great success with scraping carefully with a straight-edge razor blade at room temperature... UNTIL, that is, I put a couple of nasty gouges in the paint. Not recommended. I'd listen to those folks and their heat.
Some other things became readily apparent on the inaugural ride home from the shop. Most obviously, the cockpit setup was pretty unworkable. The Salsa Bell Lap bars were way too wide for city riding. The boxy Tektro levers didn't have a good feel when riding on the hoods (sorta like holding a deck of cards in each hand). The bar-end shifters were waaay too far away. And the black tape? Just boring. So basically I loosened the cables, unbolted the bars from the stem and started over from scratch.
With the bike stripped except for crank, derailleurs and seatpost, here's how I built it back up. Half the parts came from Velo Orange, a shop specializing in retro randonneur equipment, and the other half from Universal Cycles. A couple of others were in my garage already.Part #1: Nitto "Noodle" bars, 41cm. Comfy, light bar, elegant bend, silver, and crowned with the goofy Nitto heraldic crest (how does a parts company based in Tokyo decide that the brand image they need is medieval helmets and crossed broadswords?). More importantly, they're narrow enough to avoid car side mirrors, almost 5 inches narrower than the stock bars at the bar ends.
Part #2: Shimano Ultegra STI shifters. The big purchase, but this is the interface to the bike. I spend most of my riding time with my hands on the drops and I've just gotten used to being able to brake and shift at will. Frequently both at once, such as on that weird access ramp on the Manhattan side of the Manhattan Bridge. Invaluable for city riding. The Cross-Check comes with a Shimano drivetrain, so I could leave the rest intact.
Part #3: Cinelli cork tape in Natural. A classic. Two layers for the cushy cushy. Finished with a pair of Velox rubber bar end plugs I had laying around (I have never had a Cinelli plastic bar end plug stay in more than three months).
Part #4: DMR V8 Pedals. The CC delivered with crap pedals (as most high-end bikes do these days, since manufacturers assume you're going to replace them with whatever matches your shoes). I don't wear cycling shoes. In fact I don't really wear any cycling-specific clothing these days except rain gear. As such, I put on a pair of middle-of-the-road DMR mountain bike platform pedals. Big, durable, symmetrical so there's no mucking about with tipping your toes into them at traffic lights. Just stomp on 'em and go. Added bonus: the gray ones almost match the Surly gray. Almost.
Bonus Part #5 (Super Impulse Purchase): Paul NeoRetro Brakes. OK, this was a little unnecessary, but my gear-fetishist tendencies kicked in and I convinced myself I had to have 'em. I have a thing for strong, simple brake calipers. I like having springs that you really have to exert some pressure on (I still have a set of Deore XT brakes from 1990 that I am jealously guarding). The recent trend towards light, fingertip-control brakes is nice in the shop, but after two months of poor maintenance they feel like cardboard. These Paul brakes, with their machine-shop lines and tough-as-you-want-to-crank-'em spring tensioners really appealed. Plus, they're based on 1950's French Mafac Racer brakes, which are just gorgeous. Hell, you only live once.
Part #6: Brooks B17 saddle. I've never owned a old-skool riveted leather saddle, but I've never met anyone who's owned one who's regretted it. The break-in period's a bitch but afterwards it's like butter. I'm in the break-in period. Ow. Can't beat the looks, tho.
Part #7: Brass bell, with Velo Orange headset spacer mount. Nifty little bell, pre-mounted to a headset spacer so it rides next to the stem instead of on the bar tops. I like having clean handlebars (both visually, and for the extra hand position on long rides), so this was a great idea. In practice the jury is still out. First of all, it speaks very quietly. When commuting in NYC, you are frequently ringing a bell to signal "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY!" A polite little Japanese bell may not do the same trick (I had an Incredibell on the RB-1 that did). Also, the stem mount is hard to ring, especially with gloves. But, damn, it looks nice.
Part #8: Nitto front rack. A weird, vintage looking little front rack that I bought thinking "I can make that do something", but I wasn't sure what. Once mounted, though, she's a keeper. For starters, it is beautifully made, polished to a mirror finish. It wound up serving as an extra mounting point for fenders, a mount for a light (keeping yet another damn accessory off the handlebars), and occasionally, a rack. I discovered this weekend that a full plastic grocery bag slung over the handlebars so that the bag handles catch on the stem will nestle quite nicely on this rack as if by design.
Part #9: Honjo "hammertone" Fenders, extra long. Oh yes. Yes yes yes. These are the shit, a Japanese reproduction of a 1950s French design. Handmade. And uber-cool looking. And LIGHT (I think they are lighter than plastic fenders)! And very solidly mounted. The RB-1 had very little clearance so I could only fit thin plastic fenders that easily cracked. I went through about 4 pairs in 8 years (at $20-$30 bucks a shot), so spending $79 on the Most Beautiful Bike Accessory In The World was thoroughly worth it to me. They're tricky to mount (took me about 3 hours to do it right), but amazingly enough, there's a Flickr group dedicated to Honjo fender mounting. With the closeup pix of a half-dozen real world installs bettering any instruction manual, I got the job done. Not a creak or a rattle. Of course, I added my pix after the install too.
Part #10: Tubus Cosmo rack. I wanted a rack that would fit well, wouldn't break, and would be sufficient if needed on a long loaded tour. Trekkers seem to swear by Tubus and/or Jandd Expedition racks. The Tubus Logo and Cosmo get the load lower and further back (which avoids a problem with heel clearance on larger frames like mine), and the Cosmo has that great indestructible stainless steel finish. I can't come this far and cheese out, can I? Cosmo it is. I've never owned a rack with such a solid and sensible connection to the frame. No wimpy stamped sheet metal tabs here, but two 8mm dowels of solid aluminum. This thing feels like I could tow a truck with it. If you get one, make sure to get the 2007 model with the wider deck and flared tailpiece that protects the taillight. Finally, I put the Cosmo's beefy German-spec taillight mount to good use with a car-blinding Busch and Müller taillight/reflector, like a cherry atop a bicycle sundae.
Total cost: about $1900. Up there, but really not super-crazy. This is, after all, every-day all-weather transportation for me, and the alternative of spending $4 a day on the subway adds up to a similar amount after just a couple of years. Plus, good shit doesn't break very often. Throw in the health benefits and the enjoyment I get out of well-made gear, and it's money very well spent.More pix of the Crosscheck, in process and completed.
So, how's it ride? Is there something wrong with me if I push this to part 4?
new bike! part two: selection
With a fairly good idea of what I wanted, I started scouring web sites and forums for clues of what's out there. Here are the bikes I considered:
Bianchi Volpe
Surly Cross-check
Surly Long Haul Trucker
Rivendell A. Homer Hilsen
The Bianchi is a beautiful bike, well-designed, with plenty of clearances in the right places. The olive-drab with red decals is a color scheme I particularly adore, with a welcome minimum of fussy details. Unfortunately, the largest size it comes in is a 61cm center-to-top. Not big enough for me at all, so it wound up a non-starter. But had it been available 2cm larger, I would have given it a serious look.
The Rivendell was almost perfect. Lots of commuters who favor all-around performance and practicality swear by them, and I won't offer much of an argument. I had loved my RB-1 for 13 years, so it made sense to look at the bikes its designer is creating today. In the case of his Homer Hilsen, I swooned. The Art Nouveau lettering! The randonneur geometry! The support for fat tires! The eccentric charm! And oh, that atomic-age headtube badge! I primed to open my checkbook when three things stopped me. First, the bike isn't available until January, and I need something now. Not insurmountable, but gave me a moment to stop and think. Second, the $1500 price tag for frame/fork would eat up a lot of my budget. I'm not averse to spending the money; I figure I save at easily $1000 a year in car and subway expenses by commuting on a bicycle, and I take care of my bikes well enough to get 15 years out of them if they don't get stolen. You do the math. But for $1500, I could purchase, modify, and almost completely outfit any of the other bikes on my list. So that came down as a second strike against Homer. Finally, the choice of long-reach sidepull brakes seemed a bit risky. Rivendell can tend towards the quirky; for a guy who rails against non-standard specs, Grant Petersen tends to include a lot of them (650B wheels, anyone?). Sometimes they pan out, sometimes they don't. In this case, there's only one manufacturer (Tektro) currently making decent brakes that fit this bike. Not sure what would have been so bad about spec'ing cantilevers (thus offering almost unlimited choices). So, Homer, so close. But not this time.
That left the two Surlys. I'd had my eye on Surly bikes for a couple of years, since someone often parked a candy-red Cross-Check in front of my office. It looked good, solid, and like a remarkably sensible, no-bullshit bike. Lots of braze-ons, a minimum of fussy design affectations, and smart chainstays that advertised "fatties fit fine" on a sticker. No, that's not referring rudely to your waistline... that means fat tires can fit in this road-ish frame with plenty of clearance left over for fenders. My second exposure to the Surly was, amusingly enough, reading the Ditty Bops' blog on their pedal-powered USA tour last year. This charmingly awesome band rode a pair of Cross-Checks from Santa Monica to NYC, while playing shows along the way. So I had confirmation that this was a bike that could make it from coast to coast, at least.
The Cross-Check bills itself as a race-ready cyclocross bike, but copious braze-ons belie its true capabilities. The bike seems plenty solid for moderate-duty loaded touring, and is plenty sprightly with narrow tires. It's also available as a pretty inexpensive frameset or a decently spec'd complete bike. Long horizontal rear drop-outs also allow a lot of flexibility to build the bike as a single speed, or vary the wheelbase by up to an inch for performance tweaks (or tire fitting).
The Long-Haul Trucker is the Cross-Check's heavy-duty younger brother, with heavier tubing, every braze-on you can think of, and a longer wheelbase. This is a true trekking machine, designed to be loaded like a burro and ridden across continents. Also, it's available in the ugliest shade of green in the Pantone book.
Ultimately, I chose the Cross-Check. I figure it's plenty capable of being loaded with my touring gear, and if I need the extra durability on offer from the Trucker, that probably means I'm going on a trek so outlandish that I should buy a special bike for it anyway. Also, the main job of this bike is going to be COMMUTING IN NEW YORK CITY. I need to preserve a modicum of lateral handling, since going in straight lines all the time is not always an option in the land of crazy taxis and clueless pedestrians. I don't need the tippiness of a messenger's keirin track bike, but the Cross-Check seems at least partially designed for nimbleness. The Trucker's loooong chainstays seem like they'd require an oil-tanker sized turning radius.
SO: Cross-Check it is. I went over to Bicycle Habitat, ordered me up a brand new 62cm one in Gray, and picked it up the day before Thanksgiving. I then promptly took it apart. Tune in for Part Three, when we put it all back together.
Bianchi Volpe
Surly Cross-check
Surly Long Haul Trucker
Rivendell A. Homer Hilsen
The Bianchi is a beautiful bike, well-designed, with plenty of clearances in the right places. The olive-drab with red decals is a color scheme I particularly adore, with a welcome minimum of fussy details. Unfortunately, the largest size it comes in is a 61cm center-to-top. Not big enough for me at all, so it wound up a non-starter. But had it been available 2cm larger, I would have given it a serious look.
The Rivendell was almost perfect. Lots of commuters who favor all-around performance and practicality swear by them, and I won't offer much of an argument. I had loved my RB-1 for 13 years, so it made sense to look at the bikes its designer is creating today. In the case of his Homer Hilsen, I swooned. The Art Nouveau lettering! The randonneur geometry! The support for fat tires! The eccentric charm! And oh, that atomic-age headtube badge! I primed to open my checkbook when three things stopped me. First, the bike isn't available until January, and I need something now. Not insurmountable, but gave me a moment to stop and think. Second, the $1500 price tag for frame/fork would eat up a lot of my budget. I'm not averse to spending the money; I figure I save at easily $1000 a year in car and subway expenses by commuting on a bicycle, and I take care of my bikes well enough to get 15 years out of them if they don't get stolen. You do the math. But for $1500, I could purchase, modify, and almost completely outfit any of the other bikes on my list. So that came down as a second strike against Homer. Finally, the choice of long-reach sidepull brakes seemed a bit risky. Rivendell can tend towards the quirky; for a guy who rails against non-standard specs, Grant Petersen tends to include a lot of them (650B wheels, anyone?). Sometimes they pan out, sometimes they don't. In this case, there's only one manufacturer (Tektro) currently making decent brakes that fit this bike. Not sure what would have been so bad about spec'ing cantilevers (thus offering almost unlimited choices). So, Homer, so close. But not this time.
That left the two Surlys. I'd had my eye on Surly bikes for a couple of years, since someone often parked a candy-red Cross-Check in front of my office. It looked good, solid, and like a remarkably sensible, no-bullshit bike. Lots of braze-ons, a minimum of fussy design affectations, and smart chainstays that advertised "fatties fit fine" on a sticker. No, that's not referring rudely to your waistline... that means fat tires can fit in this road-ish frame with plenty of clearance left over for fenders. My second exposure to the Surly was, amusingly enough, reading the Ditty Bops' blog on their pedal-powered USA tour last year. This charmingly awesome band rode a pair of Cross-Checks from Santa Monica to NYC, while playing shows along the way. So I had confirmation that this was a bike that could make it from coast to coast, at least.
The Cross-Check bills itself as a race-ready cyclocross bike, but copious braze-ons belie its true capabilities. The bike seems plenty solid for moderate-duty loaded touring, and is plenty sprightly with narrow tires. It's also available as a pretty inexpensive frameset or a decently spec'd complete bike. Long horizontal rear drop-outs also allow a lot of flexibility to build the bike as a single speed, or vary the wheelbase by up to an inch for performance tweaks (or tire fitting).
The Long-Haul Trucker is the Cross-Check's heavy-duty younger brother, with heavier tubing, every braze-on you can think of, and a longer wheelbase. This is a true trekking machine, designed to be loaded like a burro and ridden across continents. Also, it's available in the ugliest shade of green in the Pantone book.
Ultimately, I chose the Cross-Check. I figure it's plenty capable of being loaded with my touring gear, and if I need the extra durability on offer from the Trucker, that probably means I'm going on a trek so outlandish that I should buy a special bike for it anyway. Also, the main job of this bike is going to be COMMUTING IN NEW YORK CITY. I need to preserve a modicum of lateral handling, since going in straight lines all the time is not always an option in the land of crazy taxis and clueless pedestrians. I don't need the tippiness of a messenger's keirin track bike, but the Cross-Check seems at least partially designed for nimbleness. The Trucker's loooong chainstays seem like they'd require an oil-tanker sized turning radius.
SO: Cross-Check it is. I went over to Bicycle Habitat, ordered me up a brand new 62cm one in Gray, and picked it up the day before Thanksgiving. I then promptly took it apart. Tune in for Part Three, when we put it all back together.
Nov 22, 2007
new bike! part one
Part of the reason for starting this blog now is that I recently purchased a new bike, so I had to kit out my every-day ride from scratch. My trusty Bridgestone RB-1 that I rode almost exclusively since I've moved to New York was recently stolen from in front of my office, when I ran in for "just a couple of hours" on the weekend. It was built up from a frame in 1994, first as my go-fast bike, and most recently it was stripped down to the frame again in May 2005 and rebuilt from scratch with a full Shimano Ultegra Triple group and a beefy set of 36-hole Mavic rims. The Bridgestone, one of the last Grant Petersen-designed bikes sold under that brand, rode wonderfully, with a real tendency to go straight real fast. Handling was awesome, not too quick or too slow; it was stable as hell, but was also nimble enough to keep me out of trouble in NYC traffic. It was also a machine that was dialed-in to my tendencies, and when I found it missing about a month ago, I felt like I had lost a close buddy. Not to mention the fact that it started a lot of bike geek conversations... I was constantly being approached by bikers who appreciated what a great bike RB-1 was, and felt lucky to have gotten mine. I have a couple of the catalogs from that era, and they capture Bridgestone's quirky, anti-corporate philosophy of just making great bikes that are pratical, rideable, not too flashy, and built to last. Of course, they soon went out of business (in the US, at least).
However, the RB-1 was not perfect. First of all, the largest frame at 61cm was about 1.5cm too small for me (I'm 6'4"). In recent years, I rode with "bullhorn" handlebars (actually, 3ttt drop bars flipped over and cut off at the drops) to get the handlebars a bit higher. This eliminated some extra hand positions, and even with a 140mm stem, the top tube never felt long enough. This also put my STI brake levers in a downward-sloping position that put their center of gravity too far forward and made them rattle badly when hitting a bump of any magnitude.
Second, as I've become a car-free commuter, I've started bolting a lot of accessories on my bike: rack, fenders, pump, lights, BOB trailer hitch, the works. The RB-1 had one set of rack eyelets in the back, elegantly placed mid-dropout. but this could only be used for rack, fenders, and BOB with some creative washering and grinding. More crucially, the relatively short rear chainstays left only enough space between the rear wheel and seat tube for the thinnest plastic fenders, and I was constantly battling (with an ugly combo of zip ties and stiff wire) to keep the fenders in place. They ultimately cracked and flaked off.
Third, it was designed as a racing frame (granted, a versatile, thoughtfully-designed Grant Petersen racing frame, but racing nonetheless). This left it a teeny bit too flexy at the bottom bracket (especially when pulling the trailer or loaded with groceries). I was definitely pushing the operating envelope of the RB-1, and feared that it would just someday fold up on me like the Bluesmobile.
Finally, that wheel clearance thing limited tires to a practical limit of 700x28 smooth tires with the fenders. Deb and I do a lot of touring, frequently on dirt, and the ability to have a bike shod with 700x38 cyclocross mini-knobbies for a weekend would be a definite plus.
Bike nerd that I am, I gave all of these things a lot of thought even when I had the Bridgestone, and after it got lifted, I got serious about finding the right bike.
Full custom was (and still is) an option. I know that for the amount I ride, and how well I take care of my bikes (the RB-1 was 14 years old, and my other bike is going on 21), I could justify a custom ride. However, the waiting lists at my two favorite builders (Vanilla and Richard Sachs) are, as of this writing, 4 1/2 and 6 years respectively. Uh, dudes, I need a bike NOW. So plan B was to find the best stock bike, tweak the crap out of it, and secure my place on the custom waiting list so I can upgrade in, say, 2013.
What was I looking for? Well, I was 90% happy with the Bridgestone, so starting there was a good first step. A road bike, with drop bars. Similar frame geometry. Steel: there's outside chance that I might do some loaded trekking in the future, and I want something I can bend back or have welded in a Mexican village in a pinch. Aluminum (usually feels dead to me, and fatigues when crashed) or carbon (sorry, no) were not considered. Titanium woulda been acceptable, but there aren't a lot of good touring/city-ish road bikes out there stock in titanium, so again, we're looking at custom, and with a ~$1000 material penalty as well.
WIth that as the starting spot, I wanted to address the RB-1's shortcomings. First of all, the bike needed to be bigger. I'm right at the top of the size scale for off the rack, both in suits and bicycles, so just buying the next size larger isn't always an option. If a bike maxes out at 62cm, I need to make sure that 62cm fits me. And the ideal geometry would still maintain RB-1-like numbers but be slightly stretched around the top tube (for my ape arms) and around the chainstay (for fenders and fatty tires).
Clearances for all accessories are a must, and lots of braze-ons would be a necessity. A stiff, heavier-duty frame would also be required, as would big tire clearance. So I wound up looking in the touring/cyclocross category, to see what's out there. In the next post, the decision is made.
However, the RB-1 was not perfect. First of all, the largest frame at 61cm was about 1.5cm too small for me (I'm 6'4"). In recent years, I rode with "bullhorn" handlebars (actually, 3ttt drop bars flipped over and cut off at the drops) to get the handlebars a bit higher. This eliminated some extra hand positions, and even with a 140mm stem, the top tube never felt long enough. This also put my STI brake levers in a downward-sloping position that put their center of gravity too far forward and made them rattle badly when hitting a bump of any magnitude.
Second, as I've become a car-free commuter, I've started bolting a lot of accessories on my bike: rack, fenders, pump, lights, BOB trailer hitch, the works. The RB-1 had one set of rack eyelets in the back, elegantly placed mid-dropout. but this could only be used for rack, fenders, and BOB with some creative washering and grinding. More crucially, the relatively short rear chainstays left only enough space between the rear wheel and seat tube for the thinnest plastic fenders, and I was constantly battling (with an ugly combo of zip ties and stiff wire) to keep the fenders in place. They ultimately cracked and flaked off.
Third, it was designed as a racing frame (granted, a versatile, thoughtfully-designed Grant Petersen racing frame, but racing nonetheless). This left it a teeny bit too flexy at the bottom bracket (especially when pulling the trailer or loaded with groceries). I was definitely pushing the operating envelope of the RB-1, and feared that it would just someday fold up on me like the Bluesmobile.
Finally, that wheel clearance thing limited tires to a practical limit of 700x28 smooth tires with the fenders. Deb and I do a lot of touring, frequently on dirt, and the ability to have a bike shod with 700x38 cyclocross mini-knobbies for a weekend would be a definite plus.
Bike nerd that I am, I gave all of these things a lot of thought even when I had the Bridgestone, and after it got lifted, I got serious about finding the right bike.
Full custom was (and still is) an option. I know that for the amount I ride, and how well I take care of my bikes (the RB-1 was 14 years old, and my other bike is going on 21), I could justify a custom ride. However, the waiting lists at my two favorite builders (Vanilla and Richard Sachs) are, as of this writing, 4 1/2 and 6 years respectively. Uh, dudes, I need a bike NOW. So plan B was to find the best stock bike, tweak the crap out of it, and secure my place on the custom waiting list so I can upgrade in, say, 2013.
What was I looking for? Well, I was 90% happy with the Bridgestone, so starting there was a good first step. A road bike, with drop bars. Similar frame geometry. Steel: there's outside chance that I might do some loaded trekking in the future, and I want something I can bend back or have welded in a Mexican village in a pinch. Aluminum (usually feels dead to me, and fatigues when crashed) or carbon (sorry, no) were not considered. Titanium woulda been acceptable, but there aren't a lot of good touring/city-ish road bikes out there stock in titanium, so again, we're looking at custom, and with a ~$1000 material penalty as well.
WIth that as the starting spot, I wanted to address the RB-1's shortcomings. First of all, the bike needed to be bigger. I'm right at the top of the size scale for off the rack, both in suits and bicycles, so just buying the next size larger isn't always an option. If a bike maxes out at 62cm, I need to make sure that 62cm fits me. And the ideal geometry would still maintain RB-1-like numbers but be slightly stretched around the top tube (for my ape arms) and around the chainstay (for fenders and fatty tires).
Clearances for all accessories are a must, and lots of braze-ons would be a necessity. A stiff, heavier-duty frame would also be required, as would big tire clearance. So I wound up looking in the touring/cyclocross category, to see what's out there. In the next post, the decision is made.
Nov 18, 2007
Kickin' It Off
Watch this space for chronicles of a daily bicycle commuter taking the leap into a car-free existence. I'll be posting news about daily bicycle commuting in New York City, gear reviews, sharing ideas, and chronicling my hack-and-build bicycle projects. This may also be leading to a bicycle-related project that will go far beyond just blogging-- but more about that at another time.
My day job is computer programmer, but I've been an active cyclist and bicycle commuter my whole life (having started riding to school), and I worked for six years as a bicycle mechanic. I've ridden a variety of bicycles, mostly lightweight racing bikes (and I even entered a few races when I was younger). But lately I've realized I am never going to race again and that my racing bike are an ill fit for my riding style. I have begun to really appreciate the design of the traditional touring bike and all the dorky gadgets that go with it.
My daily commute is 6.5 miles each way from Park Slope, Brooklyn to central Manhattan, and I average about 3,000 miles per year. I've built up a ton of tips and tricks which I'll be sharing here and I hope to get others to post their ideas in the comment threads. Let me know if you're living car-free, cycling a couple of days a week, or just considering starting out. With the cost of gas going ever up, there's no better time to get on the bike.
My day job is computer programmer, but I've been an active cyclist and bicycle commuter my whole life (having started riding to school), and I worked for six years as a bicycle mechanic. I've ridden a variety of bicycles, mostly lightweight racing bikes (and I even entered a few races when I was younger). But lately I've realized I am never going to race again and that my racing bike are an ill fit for my riding style. I have begun to really appreciate the design of the traditional touring bike and all the dorky gadgets that go with it.
My daily commute is 6.5 miles each way from Park Slope, Brooklyn to central Manhattan, and I average about 3,000 miles per year. I've built up a ton of tips and tricks which I'll be sharing here and I hope to get others to post their ideas in the comment threads. Let me know if you're living car-free, cycling a couple of days a week, or just considering starting out. With the cost of gas going ever up, there's no better time to get on the bike.
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