Team Lope Tyre Clubbe » fixed-gear

Team Lope Ride Report : Primavera Metric Century 2012 02

TRDL thom — Tue, 24 Apr 2012 16:42:40 +0000

This is a companion report to the detailed, dare I even say thurra, ride report Ironlung posted this morning. The Primavera event is probably one of my favorite charity rides in the area, largely based on what Lung pointed out in his write-up: excellently supported, beautiful views at the reservoir, and close enough to home to keep it from being a travel hassle. In previous years, I took a road bike, so my perspective was shaky as I planned for this year’s run on a fixed-gear. I remembered the Calaveras Wall but that was about it. Anyway, Lung and I basically rode a variation on what we took to LA in Lifecycle, and ride every day, basically: him on a Cinelli X MASH Bolt, me on a Cinelli X Mash [sceond gen]…we were set up a little differently from each other. He used drop bars, and I had bulls. Our gearing was a bit different too: he ran 44/16 for a 72 inchgear as his base, and 44/20 for the steep climbing sections, yielding something like 57 inchgear. I rode a deeper 48/17 (77 inchgear) with a 48/19 (67 inchgear) for climbs. Previously, neither of us had used bail-out gears on our bikes. We brought cogs on Lifecycle but never used em, and on all of our rides in Marin and the like, we muscled through climbs with what we had, and avoided the super-steep stuff altogether out of practicality (if one may use the term when discussing fixed-gear bikes in this context)… but here we were facing climbs that were part of a regular regional loop for roadies, and those climbs were spread out over a good distance, so attrition would also be a factor. As any cyclist can tell you, you can go all out and ride farther and longer than you thought possible… on one climb… but that’s it, you’re not going to recover. To sustain for a whole day you need to see the long picture. We knew this was going to be the most climbing we’d done fixed, and early in the riding season to boot, but we were all in.

It was also one of those rides where there were very few hitches. I got out of the house 15 minutes ahead of schedule, we arrived about 20 minutes ahead of our plan, and had no delays in check in. We ditched the start and got right on the road, didn’t dilly-dally at the rest stops, had great food throughout and at the end, and never needed SAG or field support. No llama drama. And Lung never had tripleCramps and my bike didn’t become, like a helicopter, a cluster of components traveling in unstable formation, which was all in all a nice change.

Yep, my gearing was too brutal to make it up the wall without stopping, but not for long.

It wasn’t devoid of challenges. I got two hours of sleep before the start, thanks to a sweltering heat wave. Team Lope vet Jeff Muadib Marks met us on the route, living thereon) and made it up Calaveras before suffering the SAME EXACT MECHANICAL that knocked me out of last year’s Gran Fondo, a rear derailleur shattering that I had never even HEARD of before.

Here’s Jeff examining his SAW III type deathtrap derailleur

Lung’s salt tablet deployment system was getting a little surly, and I dropped my chain on the rollers due to bearing race issues in my rear axle, though quickly resolved. There was some saddle soreness. I had suffered a pretty bad wrist wrenching on Mt Tam a few days prior that i was nursing at the start of this, which was at full bore inflammation by the end, so the final descent was very painful. BUT. It was the descent after the final climb, after a full effing day of climbing and riding so I was stoked. And like Lung said, it was great to burn your candle on a long day like that but walk away (literally) without injury or recovery issues, feeling like you could ride the next day. You never know, especially when pushing fixies on these things.

The Calaveras reservoir area was my favorite. Thanks to Jeff’s misfortune, we got to enjoy it longer than in previous years.

Anyway, it was a great ride. I will say that I wasn’t as well equipped as Lung, partly avoidable and partly not. For one thing, I chose to keep my 77 inchgear as my main drive, rather than gear back down to the 72 we both generally ride… had I switched back, I would have probably felt better as the day went on, because of the muscle work I was essentially wasting. I mean, it’s a compromise, right. Go to 72, spin more, ride slower. But at 77, ride faster and work harder, sooner. I needed to swap cogs sooner than Lung, and I was suffering more at the end of the day. My bail out gear was a 67, which was not enough. It was sure as hell better than the 77 but it was still too steep for these climbs, so while I DID successfully ride all the climbs on the route, I stopped a number of times to recover.

Interesting snake whip skids coming down to Rest Stop 3 at speed…

But man, we had a blast. Skidding all over the place, flying along those rollers, great conversations on the route and at the rest stops with wide-eyed riders that marveled out our general madness, and I can’t reiterate this enough: AWESOME ride support. Strawberries and pineapple and all sorts of carbs at every stop, fudgecicles, ICE for the water bottles, effing ROOSTERS for no reason, more SAG vehicles on the road than I can remember ever seeing, even when you consider the smaller scale of this event compared to the rider count of something like the Gran Findo or the Marin Century. It was just a great time all day, even when it wasn’t.

That’s the last of the unreasonable fixed-gear assaults on event rides for this year, as Marin Century and Gran Fondo both warrant road bike use (I mean, warrant it MORE) and we missed the Wine Country Century (and gave up on Solvang due to travel time)… but we’ll continue to ride our unreasonable fixed-gear bikes up unreasonable climbs in Marin and around the bay area year-round, so wave or holler if you see us…

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team lope ride report : bay point to sacramento NAHBS ride

ironlung — Sat, 03 Mar 2012 06:57:08 +0000

pretty long one for what it is, but i’m in a hotel room kinda bored and extremely worn out, so there you go.

mid-last year, i found out that the NORTH AMERICAN HANDMADE BICYCLE SHOW was going to be held in sacramento, which is about 100 miles from san francisco, and i immediately decided to go. then about 3 months ago – i decided to RIDE there.

it’s impossible to do the ride directly from san francisco without going such an indirect route that it becomes something like 150 or 200 miles. but you can take BART and do it from anywhere in the east bay. when i first plotted the course, it was from the richmond BART station, and was going to be about 80 miles. but then i found out about another route, from the pittsburg/bayPoint station, which was 10 miles shorter and had far less climbs. now anyone who knows me knows that a 10 mile difference isn’t enough to make me change my mind about a route, nor is a few hundred feet difference in elevation. but a couple things came to mind. one, i was doing this unsupported. and as a result of that, two, i was gonna be carrying all my gear. an 80 mile ride is one thing. an 80 mile ride with a 30 pound pack on is a WHOLE other story. so i opted for the shorter ride.

i posted on my facebook page that myself and a buddy of mine were planning the ride and offered people to join. a friend of mine that i hadn’t seen in several years and her boyfriend wanted to get in, so now we were up to 4. but then my friend who originally helped me plan the trip bailed out in order to do the MASHSF time trial race to NAHBS, which was on saturday. fuck that noise, i don’t ride to compete, and i wanted to stay more than one day. so now we were down to three. and we finished all the planning and got everything sorted and met at the BART station this morning. but when we got there, we found that there was a facebook group who’d also planned to take the ride together – about a dozen of them – and they were all SO fucking cool that we decided to do the ride together.

the group was made up of a number of different types of cyclists. randonneurs, roadies, commuters — just people who really like bikes. there was no attitude, no competition, they were just fun-loving people. some were kitted up, some rocked street clothes, and some rolled as i do — street clothes over top of kits. some had racks and panniers, some had backpacks. some were women and some were men. some were friends and some were strangers. it was amazing. and what was really cool was that MANY of them either currently worked in, or used to work in bike shops. so these were people who knew what the fuck was up with tech, too. VERY fucking cool.

when our trip started, i thought it was going to be the easiest goddamn thing ever. we were on an off-street path for something like 10 miles, no other bicycle traffic, very little people traffic, zero cars, and it rolled and twisted throughout.

it was awesome, except that 5 minutes in, i heard ssISSssISSssISSssISSss… fuck. flat. i wasn’t taking any chances so i changed my tube AND tyre in the fastest tyre change you have EVER seen and we were back on the road.

after that 10 miles or whatever it was, we were on a road alongside traffic and it was still pretty mellow. no climbs, smooth road, wide shoulder, very good for city-to-city distance rides. this lasted about 2 miles or so and then we saw it rising in front of us — the antioch bridge. now this bridge looks pretty ominous, almost like the first hill of a roller coaster, which you clack-clack-clack up until being pitched over the precipice.

(this is the backside of the bridge, after crossing, but you get the point.)

but i quickly noticed something. the antioch bridge is one lane in each direction, with a shoulder that’s got sleeper strips on one side and grates on the other, and the lanes are separated from each other by a 4-foot wall or so — same as what’s on the outside of the shoulder. you’re essentially in a slot-car track, trapped into a 2-foot-wide section of shoulder, and constantly battered by the blasts of wind coming off the semis that are whipping by at 70. inside those walls, those wind blasts are no bullshit. they push you out one second and pull you back in the next. oh wait, did i mention the headwinds? yeah, as you start climbing up the bridge (which isn’t a super significant climb, maybe about 10% or less), you start noticing that as you get out over the water and away from the trees and buildings, the wind is getting greater and greater. by the time you’re midway up, it’s coming at you like you’ve never felt before. everyone was downshifting. everyone but the only person who couldn’t — me. i had no choice. i had to speed up. i pushed and pushed and pushed, sucking wind and struggling as the headwinds held my backpack like i was attached to my starting point with an elastic cord. as i got to the top, i thought i was set. i was going to descend. hahahaha, nope. the headwind was just as bad on the other side. so you know how on a fixed-gear, you have to pedal when you descend cause you can’t coast? well, even the geared people had to pedal down the other side because if you coasted, the headwind would, i shit you not, stop you. you were pedaling DOWNHILL, just to move. and don’t forget, you’re SCARED. you’re trapped and being blasted around and you don’t have much room to move and FUCK THAT. it is NOT for babies. i was out in the front this whole time because i had to be — i have only one speed. when i got to the bottom, i pulled over and turned around and the next nearest person was like 100 yards behind me. and when he pulled over, the next nearest person was 50 yards behind him. we all pulled over and chilled for about 10 minutes, laughing and sharing stories of fear before we moved on. but that headwind was it now. that would be our companion for the next 40 miles.

as we continued along, despite the headwind, we all started to get to know a bit about each other, to goof around, just having a good time. but the road conditions were OBSCENE. there was glass and gravel everywhere. there were sections of shoulder that had started to tear away, leaving 8-inch-wide jagged tears that were up to 20 feet long. there were sleeper strips and foliage and roadkill and just so much shit it was ridiculous.

eventually, we got to roughly the halfway point, where there lies a small frontier town called isleton. i say "frontier town" because it really was. one main street with buildings lining each side that looked as if they were straight out of the 1800s.

we’d heard from one of the town’s AMAZINGLY friendly locals that there was a cafe on the street that made good sammies, so we were in. (i’ve since come to find out from someone else who knows the town that there’s some bomb tamales [bombales?] in the back of the bodega across the way, too, so i’ll be keeping that in mind.) but yeah, seriously, large sandwiches for $5 a piece, made the way you want em, and ice cream for $0.50 a scoop, from one of sacramento’s most famous ice creameries, whose name i don’t recall right now. anyway, we intended to be there long enough to eat and digest, maybe an hour.

and right about 3 minutes before that time, one of the guys’ bikes’ rear tyre just exploded. no warning, it wasn’t even on it’s wheels, it was on it’s side. it just … blew up. so he pulled it off and discovered a missing section of rim tape right over a metal burr. he remedied that and patched the tube and the patch didn’t hold. he replaced the tube and put that on and that exploded. he patched it again and when he was pumping it up, the valve just sheared off. it was the craziest thing any of us had ever seen. FINALLY it was remedied, but this was now two hours of fucking around with it, so we’re now three hours down. NOT COOL. and during this time, i noticed a quarter-inch cut in the sidewall of my tyre. my tyre that i just put on brand new about 30 miles ago. i was getting ready to cut a boot out of the tyre i’d replaced, when one of the guys said he had a $0.25 BART card that i was welcome to, and those things are like kevlar, so i quicky booted my tyre. after all this, we headed off into the last 35 miles and we were pleasantly surprised to find that despite no shoulder, the road conditions were much improved and while there was still headwind, we were able to go at a good clip and knock it out.

by this time, my gear bag was starting to weigh heavy, and my legs were starting to feel the burn. over the next couple hours, i was really in a zone, just turning off the pain and turning over the cranks. at one point, i was ready to call it for 10 minutes and just rest, but i managed to HARDEN THE FUCK UP and make it through. our group had split apart into 3 factions at this point, as the less strong cyclists fell back, the experts shot ahead, and the intermediates … well, fell in the middle. as one of three of the people out front, myself and the two cyclists i was with were able to pull over and have a NICE rest while we waited for the intermediates to catch up. when they did, they said that one of the novices was bonking and another had a flat, and that they had said we should all go ahead. so we did. and as we pulled into sacramento, finally, at 6:15PM, we split off our separate ways to our separate hotels. a funny moment when i checked in was the desk grrl, noting my bike, says, "where did you ride from?" and even though it wasn’t ENTIRELY true, i said "san francisco." and her jaw drops and she looks at me and goes, "really?" "yeah." "WOW." then she checks the computer and goes, "i have a room on the ground floor if you’d like." hahahahahahaha, i thought that shit was awesome. "yes. yes, i’d like that room very much, thank you." so i took a long hot shower, ran to the nearest market and picked up some food for my room’s fridge, and got settled in. i had high hopes of going out tonight, but that’s SO not gonna happen. i’m really beat.

now when you do a point-a-to-point-b ride (as opposed to a point-a-to-point-a LOOP), there are some distinct differences. as such, i was looking at this ride as very akin to a day on ALC, which is also a point-a-to-point-b ride. but there were a few key differences, and they were REALLY big because you’re unsupported except by your own group. here are some.

/ no SAG. i don’t SAG, but that’s just cause i’ve never needed too. if i needed to, if i was hurt or needed help, SAG would be a knight in shining armor. on a ride you do yourself, you get hurt? you better heal up, son. or call an ambulance. cause ain’t nobody coming to get you.
/ no maintenance. you have a mechanical, and you better hope you have the parts and the tools to fix it cause guess what? if you can’t, you’re walking it or you’re hitchhiking.
/ no rest stops. sure you can pull over for some grundle suffrage or some shade, but for the most part, when you run out of water and food, or when you need lunch, you better be near a town or at least a gas station cause guess what? you’re fucked otherwise.
/ NO GEAR TRUCKS. this was the biggest one for me because i don’t SAG, i always have enough tools and often have enough parts, and we had plenty of opportunity for food and water. but carrying your own gear is a fucking HUGE deal. every pedal stroke is twice as hard. climbs (even though there was really only one on this ride) are BRUTAL. grundle suffrage happens faster and is more painful. you run out of water faster cause you need to hydrate more. you’re less aerodynamic, so headwinds are even more of a big deal. it’s absolute hell.

overall, this ride was incredibly difficult and a generally flat 70 mile ride should not qualify as "incredibly difficult." it certainly shouldn’t qualify as "absolute hell." but listen, i had a great fucking time, don’t get me wrong. i met a ton of great people. i rode with a friend that i hadn’t seen in years and who i’ve never ridden with before. i commuted to a city 100 miles away from where i live. i carried my own shit and supported myself. i’m on a 4-day vacation from work. the weather was wonderful. i didn’t bonk or cramp.

in fact, i have to say that the only negatives (and i separate "negatives" from "challenges") were that i got sunburn on my calves (i started shaving my legs, so they’re less protected), i got a flat, found a sidewall tear, and at one point had to tighten my left cleat. not a bad haul!

in the end, i saluted sacramento the only way lope knows how — with special lubricants.

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A Day of Highs and Lows

TRDL thom — Thu, 16 Feb 2012 21:45:49 +0000

Ah, the joys of breaking in a skid-stop capable fixed-gear bike… and fixed-gear capable organic engines.

Low: on Friday night, after doing some longer skids down my hill approaching my house from an alternate route, I felt slippage. Guh. I thought I had that stuff wrenched down, but of course these are new forces compared to backpedaling, so. This was expected. I took the wheel off, added Phil’s, cinched down the cog carrier and lockring, and was back in action.

High: On Tuesday, I began systematically trying to train myself for ambidextrous skidding, after that first attempt almost led me into the maws of Ole Coal Hi’sself. By the time I got to work, I had managed two reasonable ones (maybe 4") in gravely flotsam, and about 5 smaller ones on dry ground. It feels ridiculously alien, compared to the left leg forward on which I’ve been practicing normally.

Low: I’m starting to feel splints in my forearm tendons from gripping the drops and keeping my body as forward as possible.

High: On Wednesday, I had another 5 successful dry ground mini skids using the alternate right lef forward… still very alien, very hard to get my brain in gear. But baby steps. Lung waited a long time to go ambidextrous while in the meantime powersliding down whole city blocks with his dominant leg, so I thought I’d try and get ambidextrous from the get go if possible.

Low: Wednesday evening, I was stuck at the office late, and by the time I got off the horn, I was in hot water at home. I raced out the door, hit the light on my helmet, and shot down the street. It was some way down a little hill I descend that I realized I left my toolkit at the office. And my U-lock. Oh well, too late to turn back.

I skidded a few stop signs. On the third, I felt my leg drop and my cranks were spinning. I assumed I had some sort of crank or bottom bracket deaths, but when I pulled over to inspect, it was the other direction.

Scheiise! The lock ring had spun off and was dangling on the axle. The cog carrier (remember, I use these Sugino Keirin cogs) was about half way unthreaded, and the cog itself was off the carrier (nothing holds it on) and also rolling on the axle, still chained. I consider myself lucky: I knew at some point I’d probably unwind the cog, but when matters of drivetrain fail occur on a fixed-gear bike, if they didn’t send a chain to tangle the crank arm or simply send me to meet Ole Coal Hi’sself, I count myself in the win column. However, OF COURSE. No tools. And no U-lock means no Monkey socket end.

I spent about 10 minutes or so fiddling with it with my gloved fingers and managed to reseat the cog, re-spin the carrier a bit, and roll the lockring, despite threading problems. A few good pulls on the cranks got the carrier into place, re-hand-tightened the lockring, and then I just noodled home. I mean, I rode fast and hard and jumped on the cranks quite a bit to get that carrier cinched, but the real concern was the lockring rolling back off and then dropping the cog. It’s also really hard to ride without backpedaling. Not just not skidding. No counterpedaling to slow.

This morning, in Ye Shoppe, I examined the wheel off the frame, and saw that while the end of the hub had thread damage, and I saw some wear on the lockring, I was able to pull off the thread threads (You know what I mean, you can see one below) and then tighten everything down again. So, off I went.

High: Made it to work, including climbing Loring and doing a number of skids down the back side, without incident and the lockring doesn’t appear to have budged. I think from now on I’ll be checking this before each ride, though.

Tonight, more ambi skidding.

One more note: I checked my tyre again and since last check you can definitely see the difference, and by extension, the increase in my skid successes and confidence. Last time I saw no change to the tyre, and this time, I have three solid patches of wear. In fact, since I’ve been roll-stopping, or, you know, skid-hop-skid-hopping since I can’t seem to stay forward long enough to maintain the skid for more than at most 3 feet or so, the third patch is like a third of the wheel’s surface length. Ha. So I have two small contact skid patches and one looooooong one. Which also tells me that I need to consider a new ratio. Three skid patches is the worst possible. And while I won’t be skidding through expensive Gatorskins next time, Ineed more surface area. So, I suspect I’ll drop to a 17 cog, which will get me to 17 skid patches, though I’ll be back up to 75+ inchgear, which will make climbing again more onerous.

Final High: That 3′+ skid limit I mentioned? This morning, final skid before the front door skid (which my boss has noticed the marks on the sidewalk and given it the old WTF) and it was around a turn. Fun!

Experienced skid-stop fixie riders may or may not remember these days with nostalgia or disdain, but for me, all new.

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On Matters Related to Removable Grips

TRDL thom — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 21:07:25 +0000

On Raposcallion, my baby/cargo carrier, I keep changing bars as I experiment with finding a sweet spot between the moon bar upright riding position and the pitched-forward fixed-gear position when the kid seat is removed. I tried shorty arc bars I had cut down for Wrongbike at one point, and the latest is Sparrow knock-offs twisted up sort of like risers. I’m finding a bar position that will be fun when the kid seat is gone, but also allow me more of a conventional riding position even when Zoe (or Matteo, eventually) is on there. So, anyway, an aside to all that: I keep pulling grips off. Kind of wasteful when you don’t have an air compressor around to blast the grip off from within. This is the only bike I have that uses actual grips, the others all being tape-wrapped.

So, I got it in my head to look for grips that were removable. Beyond the usual shop methods, of course. And so I eventually found my way to these: Speed Metal by Portland Design Group. They aren’t the only grips out there using compression bolts to hold into place, but they would match the eventual look of this bike aesthetically, so why not.

It’s a pretty cool system. The inner ring is actually the outermost layer, contoured for your thumb, and the outer tube, the grip itself, slides up under it.

Each end point is secured with a tiny allen (of different sizes, interestingly) and overall it feels quite secure. In my case it’s only half-successful because the grips are too long for the curve point of the bar. So the outermost edge and that clamp ring are really just hanging out. But I secured them with plugs I fashioned and we’ll see how it works out. I tried putting blinkies on the ends but it looked kind of awkward. I may return to that anyway, just because I like having an outboard blinker when kids are on-board.

Pretty cool product!

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On Youngling Bike Seats

TRDL thom — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 18:53:31 +0000

For parents preparing to get their younglings on their bike for the first time, the immediate dilemma is the methodology: front seat, rear seat or trailer?
If you set aside the culture of fear associated with the placement of your beloved botlet on an inherently unstable apparatus in perilous motion, it becomes a combination of factors. What do you want to experience on the bike with them? What do you want them to experience?

I’ve had every iteration of the youngling carrier in the Team Lope shoppe, and I can tell you that while each have strengths and advantages, there was a clear winner in my family. Your choice will be subjective and personal. But I’ll break down what I’ve found. Remember, your youngling must have the neck strength to hold their head up even when jostled, and most importantly, you must be able to get the helmet on. We started with a Lazer helmet, which is the smallest available, and upgraded more recently to a Headcase helmet of her own selection. Pink.

Front Seat: I wanted to interact with my daughter on the bike, see what she saw, and talk with her as we rode, so I was hot for the front seat assembly. This was our second configuration, after using a rear seat first for a few months. The advantages of a front seat configuration are that you obviously have your youngling right up their with you, allowing you to interact and take data. For example, are they enjoying the ride, or is wind bothering them, or are they asleep, that sort of thing. My daughter cares not about the wind when on a bike, and generally narrates our voyage. She and I also regularly engage in surveillance assignments, such as watching for ravens or MINIs. Or girls. Speaking of girls, she rings the bell when we pass people. The weight is forward of the center of the bike, meaning you are pushing that high center of gravity mass around. It is the most stable position for a strong-bodied adult, as you are always gripping the bars, and less prone to the swing-out of the weight being on the back and getting away from you on a dismount. Care must always be used, of course. Disadvantages include the system being somewhat more difficult to manage for smaller, weaker individuals, and the fear factor: if you are convinced your child is going to be injured, it’s easy to imagine such things when you’re riding behind them on the bike.

For my money, the best front seat system is the Bobike, which offers a compact seat and footrest, compared to any other system I’ve seen that utilizes overbuilt plastic cages. Nothing wrong with that business, but when on a front rack that’s a lot more to have to look around while riding, and it’s more THERE there to be in the way between you and your youngling. I like to get face to face with mine.
You can get the Bobike from the only domestic supplier that I currently know of, Longleaf, who also have the Lazer helmet.
http://www.longleafbicycles.com/product … bike-mini/

They also have attachments like a windscreen or even offer a deluxe seat. Great folks, and highly recommended. I should point out that you need to consider your ride when using this seat. It attaches to the stem, so you need to have either a tall quill stem, or if using a modern stem, you need enough height in the steerer to accommodate the mounting assembly (sold separately for modern stems) and do some adjustment so you aren’t striking with your knees. For me, on a fixed-gear, that meant playing around with bar types and seat positions. I started on an upright Mixte frame and now am riding in a pretty conventional fixed-gear position on curved short touring bars that are like risers in the setup.

Another option is the Yepp seat, also quite popular.
http://publicbikes.com/p/Yepp-Mini-Chil … dium=email

Rear Seat: The rear seat is the most common around, and we inherited ours from another family. The seat rests on a modified rear rack, which connects to your seat tube ad clamps to the wheel stays. This is the traditional business, with the youngling in a large bucket, secured over the rear wheel. Advantages are that it’s perceived to be more stable for smaller, weaker riders, and the youngling is protected from wind by your own body in front of them. Disadvantages include visibility, for one, and in my opinion, contrary to the above, a tendency to introduce a twisting moment at rest. So, I guess easier for some in motion, harder when stopped. Anyway, these are everywhere, so I don’t even have links for you.

Trailer: I resisted this one for over a year, but now have one as well. A trailer attaches to your rear axle or stays and is on a pivot assembly so you have freedom to move the bike around without locking up the trailer. Your turning radius is thus quite tight, and depending on how deluxe your trailer is, the ride can be cush. We use the Burley Bee, which os pretty much a stripper. The reason I went with such a simple model was weight: in this configuration, you are pulling the weight behind the bike, and being pushed around a little bit by it as well. So, lightness to me was key. Additionally, for my use, it was for distance riding and hill climbing, giving me the capability to get something approximating my more aggressive rides in with my youngling along, so weight was absolutely the most important factor. More deluxe models increase the suspension, offer attachments to transform into a stroller, add a microwave, whatever. My youngling likes the trailer fine at first, but she prefers to be on the bike and involved. The trailer is a passive experience, and will generally lead to napping. So, in my mind, it’s somewhat more for your benefit and less about their experience. But great for long distances, many can carry two, like mine (planning ahead) and also great for inclement weather. Mine has a windscreen and a rain cover. A friend back east also pointed out they can be adapted for snow use in some cases as well. In my mind, the trailer is a good second option to one of the above that you might use more regularly.

http://www.burley.com/home/bur/page_306/bee.html

Note that your options expand considerably once your youngling is old enough to hold on for dear life, as you can introduce the ride-along extensions that offer a third wheel and second set of seat/bars, or upgrade to a larger kid carrier like a bikefiet or an Xtracycle. I’m entering that world soon and will be looking into those in more detail.

Anyway, have fun, and get those kids out there early. It’s a great way to commute with them, spend time with them, and get some junk miles in, so to speak.

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richard todd’s SF bike messenger portraits

ironlung — Tue, 27 Dec 2011 22:21:21 +0000

THIS is a great project for several reasons, not the least of which being that it seems to reach from the late 80s till now.

the best part to me is that it reminds you that messengers on fixed-gears are in the vast minority.

also, that dude in the banner pic? not only do i still see him every day, he’s still riding that same schwinn spit-fire. AWESOME.

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Team Lope Offers best Wishes to Lisa of Team One

TRDL thom — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 22:15:43 +0000

Lisa and Alfie are familiar faces for the Aids Lifecycle crowd. They pretty much wrote the book on fixed-gear ALC, and where the folks, as Team One, that I contacted before our own fixed-gear participation to ask about their experiences and gear ratios. Great folks, and the type of people that always impress with their adventurous exploits: climbing mountains, double or triple century 24-hour rides, constant uploads of photos of nature, food and gear from various bike and moto trips… the kind of people you look at and think hey, not only are they living their lives to the fullest, but they’lll live forever, too.

Lisa suffered an aortic dissection the night they returned from their Thanksgiving weekend trip, sending her to the ER with chest pains in an ambulance and Alfie into a justifiable panic. 7 hours of open heart surgery later, she’s on the mend, very slowly. As someone who has had a family member have open heart surgery, I know first-hand the kind of stress Alfie is under, both during the operation and the long recovery period to follow.

Team Lope wishes Lisa and Alfie the very best and a speedy recovery for Lisa. We will see you on a ride as soon as you are able!

Read more on the harrowing tale here: https://www.caringbridge.org/visit/golisago/

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The Burley Cub Trailer

TRDL thom — Mon, 07 Nov 2011 16:31:41 +0000

It took me years to get here, but I’m now one of those: I have a kid trailer.

I got this after sitting in the hospital and holding my newborn son and doing the calculus on transporting two kids by bike, which I absolutely will be doing as much as possible. Sure, Matteo is 9 months or so away from that, but I was thinking also about how much I needed to spend more dedicated time with Zoe during this difficult transition, which would normally translate to lots of fixed-gear cargo bike riding. But as we enter our colder, wetter winter months, it was clear that would be a more narrowly possible scenario.

I chose the Cub by Burley for a number fo reasons. It’s one of the most inexpensive trailers on the market, yet offers the same quality of construction as Burley’s more expensive offerings. It’s basically a stripper. While the double-price models allow for conversion to a stroller via the use of a roll bar that becomes a handle and a third wheel that mounts in lieu of the tow bar and the like, this model does precisely none of that, which suits me well: I dont use strollers. I carry kids on my shoulders or on my chest or they walk. The lack of frills keeps this model down to 19 pounds, which is pretty amazing. The Cub also folds flat enough to fit in the Clubman for family adventures, fits within a bike lane comfortably and carries up to two kids, fifteen puppies or one SG. It’s also yellow.

Lung came out for the maiden voyage on a cold day with menacing waves of storm clouds overhead. This was the kind of ride day I was preparing for, when my wifebot(tm) wouldn’t tolerate the idea of the kid on the front of the bike like a masthead cutting through the storm. It wasn’t a long ride, but it was a successful mission. We rode the highways and byways, we hit the park, we had lunch. It worked out great. The UV and wind/rain protection keeps the wee one safe while you ride, and the nature of towing allows you to use any bike, such as my road bike, and go for long distances as desired.

I think Zoe and I both prefer the stem-mount front view bike seat, but this trailer allows for the flexibilities. All in all, a fine addition to the stable.

http://www.burley.com/home/bur/page_307/cub.html

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Team Lope Ride Report: Gran Fondo Fireball

TRDL thom — Mon, 03 Oct 2011 21:50:14 +0000

Team Lope Ride Report: Gran Fondo Fireball

You know that trope in romantic comedies, where the protagonist suffers all manner of circumstantial and personal disasters before being lifted by a beautiful girl in the third act? Well, I had one of those. The 2011 Levi Leiphiemer King Ridge Gran Fondo was like that, but at the end, I saw my gorgeous daughter run up and squeeze my face, so I got the happy ending. And I’ll tell you in advance, there were no deaths, and my spirits were high throughout, so this is not a tale of woe. But read on, for the biggest logistical disaster in Team Lope history.

Preparation

As you may have read in earlier posts, about a week before the Gran Fondo, I made the decision to change road bike frames. My Look KG381 Team carbon frame, my pride and joy, was a size too big, now becoming a real issue with my back and pelvis injury to deal with. I decided to give up the ghost on the Look, hunted for a more suitably sized frame, lucked into a sweet NOS Cinelli Xperience from 2007, and set out to get it ready for the ride. I built up the majority of the bike earlier in the week late at night, then hit a snag due to needing new shifter cables and housings, and with time running out, I took it down to Tam Bikes for a re-string and deraiileur adjustment. As much as I wanted to do the build myself (my second time on a proper road bike) time was of the essence, as family obligations would prevent me from getting down to the shop again before the ride. This would give me a day to test ride it to work, make any tweaks, and I’d be ready. Or so I thought. Taking it in, the shop was slammed, but agreed to fit it in… by Friday at closing. This meant no test and tweak time, but at least I’d be ride-ready. My wifebot(tm) got one of her increasingly bad feelings about the ride. She encouraged abandoning it. But I had two other riders depending on me for a ride, and frankly, I had contingencies. Gran Fondo has some seriousness to it, no question: more arduous in some ways than the Tam Climbing Century in terms of gradients, and lots of intermediate climbs peppered through the course. But if I couldn’t get the bike done, I’d take the MASH. Looking at the ride profile, there were two sections where I’d have little hope of staying on the bike, even pre-back-injury, as the gradients were too steep and the climbs too long. But hell, I’d ride the thing fixed as I often do in these events, and where I needed to hoof it. I’d hoof it. I’d still get a great ride in. Meanwhile, adding to the bad mojo, Team Lope’s Muadib had a crash a few weeks ago, horfing his road bike to bits, and while he survuved unscatched, he was out of the Gran Fondo as a result. And Eric nearly got creamed on the way into Mill Valley on Friday as well. The near-misses and snags were mounting.

Build complete, 11:55pm the night before.

Friday afternoon, no word from the shop. Later in the day, I was informed a message was left for me on voicemail, and that the bike wouldn’t be completed. This was a bad time for my Google Voice account to have the ‘silent message’ error. No data. I didn’t know what was wrong, but since they weren’t going to be able to do it, my wifebot(tm) graciously shot over in the MINI with a sleeping Z, grabbed me, took me over to the shop so that I could get the bike, and see what my options were. The shop was slammed and they ran into some issues so the bike wasn’t going to happen. However, the only reason I had brought it in was that I ran out of shifter cable and housing at home and didn’t have any more time. So they gave me cable and housing pro bono and I figured what the hell, I’d give it a go! So now I was back where I left off on Wednesday night: my remaining tasks were to restring the brifters, string up the derailleurs, and adjust them. I’ve done this once before, on Villain, so I was ready to take it slow and get through it. I’ve confessed before that I find deraiileur adjustment maddening, with the two limit screws on each, the adjusters, etc. I just don’t have a good sequencing set-up. But I had at it. My comedy of errors, however, continued. First, the rear derailleur was missing the pinch bolt, which apparently must have dropped back at the LBS. I stole one off of my old Dura Ace rear and proceeded with only minimal workaround. Next,t he Jagwire cable housing I got from the shop? I couldn’t cut it cleanly. It splayed out into all the fiber fragments, thanks to my wire cutter being designed for electronics and not a nice sharp one for this application. I ended up recovering cable housings from, believe it or not, the torn-down groupo from the Vista 10-speed that became wrongbike! HA. So, that would have to do in a pinch. Thinner housings, easier to cut. Next problem: my SRAM 10-speed chain was too short. It used to be WAY too short when I first strung up Villain (The SRAM instructions describe stringing big ring to big ring, and adding a link; later readings of third party guides say they mean one outer set, one inner set, of links; so I was one link short) but on this build, I was using a compact 50 tooth chainring so I thought I’d be safe. I was going to avoid crossing into that big cog from the big ring (as you should anyway) and just keep that risk factor in mind. Next, I was out of black electrical tape. WHAT! You say? The fixed-rider’s best friend? But it’s true. I had one roll at the office, gave one roll to a rider in need a few months ago and Zoe ran off with another. Suddenly, I had none of the stuff, just in time to rewrap my bars. I ended up re-using the tape from before, which wasn’t pleasant but got it done. By 11:45pm I had the bike completed, and took it down the street for a test. I was having rubbing in the back and it took a few to figure it out: the skewer slipped out of one of the drops. I’m so used to track axles now that I forgot that if you don’t really wrench those skewers down, they can pull out from chain tension (!) and it did. What’s a little more lost frame paint? So, by midnight, I was upstairs, bike was done, and I was ready to get a few hours sleep before getting up for the early start. My derailleurs needed help but I was banking on some ride mechanical support for that. I’d at least be on the road. Wifebot(tm) was still unhappy about me going: my cough remained, suggesting illness, we had to rent a car so that I could bring myself and two riders with me up there, and all the portents of doom leading up to it gave her the concerns, especially as she is full term and I need to be avaialble in case the baby comes early. But I wanted to give it a shot. I like reaching a quitting point and instead, doing the opposite of quitting. In other words, not quitting. And anyway, had the road bike not come together, I’d bring the MASH and do it fixed anyway, and if I had to walk up the entire Coleman climb, I would. It’s the Team Lope way. If I can ride to LA on a fixed-gear, I have enough legs for this ride.

Ride Day

We drove over to Santa Rosa nice and early, with bagels and coffees and not much traffic, and parked about a mile away from the start at Finley Park, as the parking near to the event was limited and a problem with local businesses in previous years. We headed out on the bikes, and I left my vest and warmers in the car because it was already reasonable in temperature. Go ahead and keep a running tabulation in your head about all the things I’m mentioning that would backfire later. We’ve got last minute build, a used 10-speed chain with probably the 1000 miles on it already that these rinky-dink light chains are supposed to top out at (can you believe that? single speed chains and heavier gauge MTB chains, even 8/9 speed road chains, these can go forever… but 10 speed narrow chains with hollow pins? No), clothing layers left behind…

Systemic Failure

OK, so about a half mile from the camp, everyone’s ahead of me, and we’re waiting at the light. I decide that my bars are still a little low (SRAM brifters want to be higher on the drops, so I reseated them when I restrung the brifters, but they still needed a bit more height) and pulled my 3-head hex key out and made the adjustment. I was using a trusty Thomson X2 stem, a two bolt design. I adjusted while on the bike. Apparently, I’m told later, that was my mistake, because you can’t as easily judge the torque. I always thought torque bolts failed intentionally, such as we see in Oakleys and other precision mechanical fitment. I was very wrong. I heard a POP! and my bars dropped. I spun them up in that flipped-10-speed antlers style and noodled across the intersection by the freeway to get out of traffic, then assessed my problem. I thought, at that moment, that the bolt had broken inside the stem, at the top of the clamp plate. I figured my best bet was to nurse it to camp and see if I could steal a stem bold from somewhere else. That was some dodgy riding, basically riding upright, holding the bars up for brakes. Guh. At camp, I soon realized that the stem itself had failed, internally. I went ahead and checked in, and while the gang rolled to the massive start, I headed over to the festival grounds, where Trek had a tent and some other vendors were setting up. Trek had no stems, and neither did anyone else. I got a lot of knowing, pained looks. The dark side to the two bolt stem, I’ll tell you. Finally, a vendor, I think at BiCi, noted that another vendor’s table had a box of stems on it, though the vendor was missing. He said he’d vouch for me, and so we pulled the stock open, and found a stem for me, and threw it on there. The vendor showed up, was supportive and awesome and said to hit him up later for it, and just like that, I was back in it. Quick stop at the Trek tent for some derailleur adjustment: everything looked great. I was good to go!

Team Mechanical

The ride is staged, so faster riders head out first to get out from behind everyone, then the rest are staged based on approximate experience level, so that like riders are with like riders, etc.

Eric, Kristin, her brother Donovan, and his girlfriend Sally rounded out our little group, and while we were initially heading out thinking that the worst was behind us, we were soon confronted with a freakish number of problems. Eric had a flat. He didn’t have a pump or adapter that could fit his valve properly. Different riders had different skill levels so pacing was dynamic. I stopped and stretched at each rest stop. More mechanicals. Ultimately, one of us self-assigned the name Team Mechanical. I had no idea how accurate it would be. We were joking how we never used the mechanical tent, barely ever stopped at the rest stops, etc.

Eric, Kristen and me: Team Mechanical

Wellllll….. anyway, we had sent Don and Sally up the road and were going to catch up once Eric was done with his thing. We ended up doing a pretty reasonable pace line to get back there, and stopped at the last rest stop before the big climb of the day. This was along the water, and the wind was picking up. Dark clouds were forming. Everyone said previous years were boiling hot and so on, but I thought we benefitted from the storm front, keeping us cooler and so on. I was having a great time.

Last generally pristine shot of Rogue. There’s some under-seatpost-binder scraping, and that dropout scraping from the night before, but otherwise, this was the honeymoon shot

I want to mention, the build was AWESOME. This new Cinelli frame worked out perfectly. With my bars adjusted to bring the brifters where they needed to be, the shorter frame, seat adjustments… I felt so comfortable. I can’t even tell you what a relief it was for my back and pelvis.

Grabbed the wrong bibs this morning, so a tiny hole in the upper thigh seam was growing. I safety pinned it For the TEAM’s safety, mind you.

And I had it dialed in. Unlike my last ride, I did everything right: I got a bit more sleep (almost 5 hours), I hydrated and fed well (even after two weeks of carb and sugar detox) and was humming with energy, Even my cough and my athsma weren’t holding me back. So, we embarked on the next leg, the big bad everyone was stressing about.

The steepest point on the Coleman grade…

The Coleman climb is remarkable not for its length or it’s overall height (it’s about 3 miles long and about 1200 feet of the 4000 feet aggregate for the day) but for the gradient. In the first third of the climb you hit gradients floating between 12 – 15%, topping out at 16.9% at one point. Recall that this was the section that I felt would force me off the fixed-gear had I brought it. I ended up taking the first third at a good pace, then pulled off at a convenient section after the big gradient, stretched my back and relieving the stress on the pelvis, and then resumed again, for the first time in the history of this cassette I put on Villain when I converted to SRAM, dropped into my 27 cog and just ticked the climb away at a steady, slow pace. We got to the top without stopping and I was justifiably elated. The night before, I didn’t have a bike to ride, was sick, had a back injury and poor saddle time; and now I had just done the big climb of the day. I was stoked.

Downhill From There

Over the top, Eric and Kristen were already descending and Donovan and Sally were now with me. Sally went on ahead, I think, and as I was descending, I rolled through the cassette to get into the smaller cogs and then flipped the big ring from the small to big. However, my shifting in the back wasn’t happening. In retrospect, I was going too fast, and didn’t wait to confirm that I was down to the saller cogs before shifting in front. I did it too close together and basically ended up doing the precisely WRONG thing for this build: I let the big ring in back (which hadn’t let go) line up with the big ring in front, and the derailleur locked up. I rolled backward on the cranks and tried to get back into the small ring, but by then it was too late: the rear mech blew up, sending it into the cassette and my rear spokes, the chain jammed up against the hub, and I was locked up in back. I can honestly tell you that all the fixed gear riding I do saved my ass. I was out of the saddle, hitting the front brake, and powerslid down to a stop in a lazy, jagged whip of rubber. I got out of the pedals and pulled off the road and was frankly just thankful i didn’t go down. Donovan came up and was eyeballing the mess behind me with a look that was like a cross between horror and queasiness. There was nothing to be done. I was out. I pulled the shattered derailleur pully cage out from being entwined in my cassette and it cut my fingers. The whole thing was just destroyed. A CHP moto cop rolled up and said that he’d get SAG support out for me, and then returned and said they would be here in about 10-15 minutes. So, I told Donovan to go on ahead and catch up with the others. They were going to catch a ride with him anyway, so I just figured I’d sag to the end, hop in the MINI, and jet home to my family. Off he went, and I hunkered down to wait as the wind whipped up and the temperature began to drop. Eventually another rides came walking down the hill with a Lightspeed and a broken chain. He had been waiting for SAG for an hour already. This wasn’t looking good.

Shot of the mangled derailleur hanger

I mean, this was pretty insane

The derailleur was wedged up into the cassette, and the hanger was up into the spokes. Amazing I didn’t go down. Wheel locked up. Longest skid-stop for my personal best, ha.

Eventually a fire volunteer rolled up in a big pick-up and agreed to take us back… but I mean BACK. Down the big climb, to the previous coastal rest stop. But hey, a ride’s a ride! And I was still riding out my euphoria about not crashing.

First ride back… literally, unfortunately.

At the rest stop, the wind was blowing and it was sprinkling. The word was that the SAG vehicles hadn’t been there in forever, and were not likely to be there. So, rather than sit on my ass, I thought, you know what, time for plan B. An awesome mechanic from Norcal Bike Sport, August, tore my rear derailleur ‘flower’ off and re pinned my chain shorter and we fashioned a single speed out of it. To hell with it. I’d ride as a single!

Derailleur and cables stripped away, ready to go single-speed.

The other guy got a chain fix and we were ready to head out, each with a crew farther along the course, sticking together out of convenience. He advocated taking an alternate route on the map. The ‘gravel route’ was designed to give riders an alternative to the Coleman grade. My concern was that it was unsupported, and it was gravel. Who knew what would happen, or how long my jury-rigged single would hold up. I didn’t want to be off the reservation. So he took off for that alternate route, and I headed along the coast and back to the big climb. I didn’t know it at the time, but while I was on the way back to the mechanical tent that second time, Levi Leipheimer had passed with his crew.

Chain Reaction

Here’s the new Single version of Rogue’s build… for a moment, anyway

PANG! There went the chain, just as I was getting started. So, I turned around, nursed the bike back to the previous rest stop, and returned to the mechanic who was sort of wide-eyed that I was back again. We shortened the chain further, now in a slightly easier gear (so bad on the flats) but not as easy as was needed on Coleman. I asked if he thought I’d make it. He shrugged and said he thought it was better than waiting at the rest stop for the SAGS that weren’t coming. So off I went for a third try. I got to the climb, hit it at a good pace, and was being pretty careful: I couldn’t stand out of the saddle, lest I stress the chain too much. And all the way up it was sort of the familiar refrain from Aids Lifecycle, as riders would double-take at the lack of derailleur. I was actually craving the MASH frame at this point. I don’t like single speed. I want the mechanical advantage of the fixed drivetrain. All my instincts were telling me to jump out of the saddle and bomb the hill as I would fixed, but I kept it steady. And I made it to about 50m from the top. PANG! There went the chain again. Now the link was twisted and two links back were open. I was done.

Second ride, this time to the next rest stop, ha

While I was at the top, I was trying to decide what to do, but I knew, either way, it was just going to be a matter of holding out until SAG support would eventually come. I was back in signal range for awhile so I texted Lung that I was out of the event and had a good story for him. I sent him blown derailleur flower pr0n. I thought I’d be hopefully getting home later that day and making up for my lateness with wifebot(tm)… but it was getting ugly, weather wise. Eventually a camera crew offered to give me a ride, which was awesome, so I put Rogue into the back of a truck for the second time in one day and hopped in. No crash, got a ride in, no worries! However, they elected to drop me off at the next rest stop a few miles up. I guess they were planning and picking someone else up before heading to base camp, so I took the ride for what it was and hopped out, joining a motley crew of injured riders at this water-only stop: a guy under a space blanket heaving from exhaustion and electrolyte overloading, and a woman who had cramped up. Guess what? It was a 4 hour wait.

The remains, alongside the medical tent. Lots of admirers of the frame (and the wreckage) though.

I mean, it was laughable. We could hear the radio going off: SAG vehicles were being rerouted BACKWARDS rather than coming forward and collecting to the end and back out again, as they should be. The rain was coming in from the coast, and there were crashes. More people were abandoning and the SAGs were picking them up on the side of the road. Even before all this, we passed four different accidents with ambulances etc. So it was an ugly day for riders down. We ended up hearing that three people were airlifted to hospitals, and it was getting worse. CRAZY! The woman took a space blanket, but I went without since I was otherwise doing OK. I just tucked into a ball and fed off of my energy gels and mini cliff bars. It sounds pathetic but it really wasn’t. I had signal so I texted my family. I even went to Amazon and ordered a replacement derailleur and chain. Ha. Oh, and Ethan Suplee, from My Name is Ed and Willfred, who we’ve written about previously on Team Lope, rolled through and looked great.

Ethan Suplee kicking ass.

One volunteer finally went off shift, and was able to take the vomiting guy, who was all gray and dead looking, down the hill (I heard her cry to the medics that he waspuking all over her Nissan though) and at another point, the woman I was sitting with got ahold of her husband, who tried to come get us (he had room for my bike, and they would take me to my car, even. Stoked!) Unfortunately, he was stuck behind the same traffic blocks that had closed the roads to everyone else, thanks to the healthy CHP support. After awhile it was raining on us. I got a text from wifebot(tm) showing young Zoe in a rickshaw in SF, saying I could use one of those right now. Truer words! Anyway, 4 hours later, a SAG vehicle rolled up. And behind them? a SRAM neutral car.

SRAM Steps Up

Finally, a SAG showed up, 4 hours later

I loaded my bike on the Sag van rack, and they said they had to wait for more calls before heading out. So I walked over and showed the tech driving it my derailleur flower, just because it was pretty crazy and he admitted it was one of the worst he’d seen. And then wham, he offered me a new one! I tole him I considered it pilot error, not defect. But he thanked me for being a SRAM customer, and suddenly I had a new derailleur.

SRAM to the rescue. This guy rocked

THAT is what I call another in a string of pretty amazing services on this ride, from the CHP support, to the amazing road crews, to the mechanics, to now this rad SRAM replacement. I was pretty delighted. And yes, I canceled the Amazon order in the van.

We ended up driving back along the route to collect more riders, and eventually were up to 6 riders in the van, before heading out to base camp. We rolled in a6 6:10pm, a good 6 hours after my second chain blow up.

I made it across the finish so my sensor could be read. I CARRIED the bike. The girls swooned. Trust me.

Over at the festival grounds, they just closed the beer tent at 6pm, so a lot of stragglers still coming in were fired up about the beer being gone, as it was presumably their carrots for getting home. However, I was driving anyway.

There were about 9 or 10 different food offerings at the festival, and riders each had a meal voucher. I chose, of course, the taco truck with the fit girl waiting in front of it.

Beer tent, closed 10 minutes prior. MAN people were steamed about that

I grabbed a delicious burrito, then headed out to walk the mile back to the car. Then I saw my original SAG van driver out front. I asked if she was heading my way, and she volunteered to drive me to the MINI! I was really thankful for this. It had been a long day. So I was in my car at 7pm. I got through Santa Rosa traffic and down to Mill Valley in a record 40 minutes (don’t ask don’t tell) and stepped in the door to give my daughter a bath at about 14 hours to the minute after I left that morning. CRAZY!

Oh it was delicious.

Now, I know this sounds like a tale of woe. But I felt pretty good about the ride!
Dig it:

- Incredible CHP support, with road closures and plenty of traffic blocks
- Volunteer support and crews that nearly rival Aids Lifecycle
- Great time riding with Eric, Kristen and Donovan, who I haven’t ridden with since spring I think, on a China Camp run where I was fixed and they were on road bikes, so this time I got to prove I actually HAD a road bike.
- Met Sally, Donovan’s girlfriend, a London import who was refreshing and generally awesome
- Got an extra ride in while wifebot(tm) was full-term. If you don’t have kids, you won’t understand how precious this was. I’m in the last three weeks before the baby is due, and that means staying close to home and scrambling with preparations and such.
- Went from having an ill-fitting carbon Look that hurt my pelvis to a PERFECTLY dialed in aluminum Cinelli and haven’t felt that comfortable on a road bike in years
- Pulled off a complete bike build in a few after-hours sessions after the toddler was sleeping
- dialed in my hydration, nutrition, and stretching and had pretty much no physical issues on the bike; no cramps, no athsma issues of concern, and in general, felt like I had much more saddle time under me than I had
- Got to drive a Fiat 500, the car I rented for wifebot(tm) to take Zoe to baby gym and her other stuff for the day
- Got a sweet, sweet carne asada burrito
- Replacement derailleur from SRAM
- All the damage was manageable so I’m on the road to repair very quickly: new chain coming, ordered a replacement derailleur hanger for the Cinelli thanks to the amazing website: www.derailleurhanger.com
- Fresh air and new ride routes
-Always reassuring when vendors, mechanics and staff go above and beyond, when we generally face selfish and hard people on our day to day ride experiences.
- Most important: I didn’t crash. I kept the bike up, never went down, and other than a minor strain in my left IT band, I’m in tip-top shape! Got to hold my daughter at the end of the day, so all was good!

Side note: one additional bonus was the use of that Cinelli. Not only is it gorgeous and did it elicit a number of comments from people having never seen it before, but guess what: I’m pretty sure I stayed off the ground because of it. The gouges in my rear triangle? Had this been my carbon Look I think i would have lost the triangle, wrecking the frame at minimum, going down far more likely. It was the first thing the SRAM tech asked about. Most blown derailleurs trash the frame when they fly up into the stays. I have cosmetic damage only. I don’t even think I lost a spoke. How awesome is THAT!

All in all, despite the calamities, it was a great day I say.

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Bike Build Process Log- Rogue: Framed!

TRDL thom — Tue, 27 Sep 2011 20:19:12 +0000

Readers and fellow riders will recall my obsession with the 2003 Look racing frame, the KG381. I coveted it at the time. I got it’s skinny cousin used in 2006, and gave it away to a thief with a Bic pen. I got a consumer line KG381 Jalabert Edition, which I rode for about 3 years, and then scored a KG381 Team spare frame from the Tour, and after building it up as a fixed-gear for awhile, I finally converted THAT frame into my road bike, and sold off the Jaja.

Well, the Team frame was always big for me. I had the seatpost slammed, I had the stem low and small, and the seat forward on the rails as much as possible. It was doable, but after my pelvis and back injury, I’ve come to find the Look to difficult to ride comfortably. I can RIDE it, but I don’t LIKE riding it. The bigness haunted me, even being only modestly too large. But as I’ve come to find, fitment becomes even more important once you’re injured. Thus, I poured a sip out of my coffee for ole Villain, and started the hunt for something new.

With a baby on the way, and a need to not screw myself over financially any more than I already have, I knew I was working backwards on technology. I wasn’t going to find a carbon frame I liked to replace the carbon frame I loved. But riding aluminum (Crook) over long distances, including to LA, taught me that I could deal with the road vibration when properly insulated. So that helped: it would be lighter steel, or aluminum. Looking around, I couldn’t shake my disinterest in almost everything out there. No cash for a custom frame. I narrowed it down to Cinelli. I wasn’t a fan of their graphics these days on the road bikes (all sorts of lines and grids like 80s Tron merchandising) but started looking backwards in the line, at new old stock and used frames. After a few days of hunting, I stumbled upon a small shop in Oregon that was sitting on a few Cinelli frames they got as a closeout from a Canadian distributor. Few, as in one S, one L, and one XL. Unused, still packed up, never built up. And for a SONG. So, best part: these were 2008s, when Cinelli offered generally monochrome schemes on some of the bikes. And in nuclear trigger red/orange! So, I snatched it up. The unboxing pic is above.

You know, I had a lot of misgivings about giving up the Look. I loved the matte black carbon and minimal decals. I loved the exclusivity of it. But I have to tell you, I’m adapting JUST fine to this new frame. It’s like… magma!

I have the Levi Leipheimer King Ridge Gran Fondo this Saturday, so the race is on to have it built up and road tested by then. I snuck in last night and started the process. I got as far as headset, cockpit (complete), front and rear strung brakes, and wheels. I’m waiting on some used SRAM Red cranks I ordered, to play nicer with my derailleur, and then I’ll do the drivetrain. It’s admittedly easier to build up a road bike when you’re stripping a road bike you only built up a year ago. Everything’s in great shape. I had to change the brake cable routing (the Cinelli isn’t internal routing like the Look) and a few other things, but so far so good. The blurry picture above shows the current state of it: orange and black.

I had a few scares: for one, when I was trying to pull the front Dura Ace brake caliper off of Villain the nut was bound up, and in muscling it, I felt the brake explode in my hand and heard something ping across the shop. I have a rock floor. Losing small parts is the bane of my work down there. Anyway, all was not lost: the spring had come loose from the calipers and the plastic sheath for it was what had tried to escape. And miraculously, after about 20 minutes with a head-mounted light, I found it, and fixed the brake.

Also, when I brought the frame into the shop from the car, I was mollified to discover paint scraped away all over the seat post receiver. I couldn’t believe it. Did I grind it against something? Was it effed up and I didn’t notice it in the unboxing? I was conjuring various electrical tape based fixes, when I found the cause: the seatpost collar, which I had been missing, was on the floor in the car, and the paint scrape was from the collar clamping onto the frame, and being pulled off somehow in my loading/unloading of the MINI. Found it as I was loading Z up for a return trip to the office to search the box for seat clamps. HA!

Anyway, build in process, but I’m pretty pleased about the Phoenix-style rebirth of sweet-as happening here.

PS New bike name, influenced by the bright orange/red color: ROGUE

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