Re-Trying the Moustache Handlebar

Iconic of the Bridgestone XO era and later championed by Rivendell, the Moustache handlebar is perhaps more popular today than ever. The dramatic forward sweep, the sideways-mounted road levers and the bar-end shifters make for a visually distinct and intriguing presence. The design is easiest to understand if you think of it as a flattened out drop bar, with the brake levers installed on what would have been the hooks. Grant Petersen designed the Moustache in the early 1990s specifically for the Bridgestone XO bicycles, as a kind of a hybrid between upright and drop bars. Today several manufacturers produce their own versions (including Soma and Origin8), though likely the Nitto/ Rivendell model remains closest to the original.

I first tried Moustache handlebars three years ago, and I remember being surprised by the leaned-forward position they put me in. Unlike the handlebars you see on city bikes, the Moustache is swept forward, rather than swept back - putting the rider's hands way out there, forward of the stem. Depending on stem length and handlebar height, this can be quite an aggressive lean. Recently I tried the bars again: I've been getting questions about them from readers and wanted to refresh my memory.

Riding with Moustache bars again was fun; my riding style has changed so much since the last time. These bars are unique and remind me of no other handlebars I've ever tried, so it's hard to find a point of reference. The forward sweep is vaguely North-Roadish, with two notable exception: All the hand positions are forward of the stem, and the brake levers are in the forwardmost points of the sweep, rather than in what we are accustomed to thinking of as the gripping areas.

The shape of the handlebars feels pretty good, and I have no trouble squeezing the levers from their location (here is an illustrated guide to the hand positions). However, I find the setup counterintuitive. Squeezing the brake levers puts me in a forward-leaning position, whereas using the bar-end shifters puts me in a leaned-back position: the exact opposite of what I am used to. After all, when I squeeze the brake levers I am trying to reduce speed - and the aggressive posture counteracts that - especially when coming to a complete stop. It was interesting to experience the discrepancy between what my body wanted to do when stopping and what the bars wanted me to do. On my own bikes, I prefer for the brake levers to be in a location that allows my posture to be more relaxed. 

A friend who rides with Moustache bars explains them as a variant of riding with vintage, non-aero drop bars (where you brake mainly from the hooks). He believes those who are used to that will find braking with the Moustache intuitive, whereas the likes of me who mostly brake from the hoods of modern drop bars - or from the edgemost gripping areas of swept-back handlebars - may have trouble with the setup. He could be right. Either way, it's a handsome handlebar that I enjoy seeing on others' bikes. 

Categories: handlebars, product reviews, Rivendell

We're All Doing It Right: Thoughts on Grant Petersen's Just Ride

Earlier this year, Rivendell founder Grant Petersen published a book, Just Ride - a collection of short essays serving as a "radically practical guide" to cycling. After reading Just Ride over the summer I was not sure how to review it, so I held off. But at this stage I've been asked so many times whether I've read it, or been told that I ought to read it, that I figured I should share my thoughts. 

To provide some background, I am a huge fan of Grant Petersen's writing; can't get enough of it. I have been an avid follower of the Rivendell Reader and "blug" over the past 4 years. I'll even read the product descriptions on the Rivendell website just for fun. My admiration of his writing has nothing to do with whether I agree with everything he has to say; these are two separate things. But as a writer, I think he is uniquely gifted at creating engaging narratives and at establishing a sense of a shared perspective between himself and the reader. Just Ride has some of that magic, and that's what makes it stand out amidst the other bike books out there. At the same time, the book is quite short and largely reiterates what some of us have already read in Rivendell's literature over the years. I would like more! When discussing the book, Grant has mentioned that initially he had written a much longer, rambling manuscript that he and his publisher later nixed. I can't help but be curious about that earlier version. Maybe a longer, more in-depth book is in the future? I sincerely hope so. Grant Petersen is more than a bike industry guy; he is a writer.

But getting back to Just Ride: I would describe it as a friendly, engaging guide to cycling that is aimed at beginners and those getting back into riding later in life. Just Ride aims to portray riding a bicycle as a fun and uncomplicated activity, and seeks to free it from the seriousness that has been imposed on it by the racing, fitness and advocacy cultures. Each chapter offers advice on some concrete aspect of cycling. For the most part I agree with the advice, and the details I don't agree with don't really matter: You get a handful of bike people in a room and there is seldom a consensus. The important thing, as I see it, is that the advice feels accessible and appealing to beginners and makes them want to start riding, makes them feel that cycling is for them. Once they get into it, they can form their own preferences about specifics. The main thing is to make them feel inspired and comfortable in the first place, and Just Ride does that. 

The one thing that distracts from this, is that the book described as "the manual for the unracer" in fact focuses too much on racing, in my view. Even the term "unracer" itself suggests that racing is really the dominant type of riding, so much so that regular riding must be described in terms of what racing is not. Why not just call bike riding "bike riding," instead of turning it into a negative? It seems that the author assumes his readers have already been inundated by the racing culture and all the lycra/clipless/carbon/laterally stiff clutter that entails. But while this may have been true 5+ years ago, today I think it is far less likely. With plain-clothes bicycle commuting being covered by major US newspapers, I do not think racing is necessarily the prism through which novices perceive cycling these days. By mentioning racing constantly Just Ride makes it seem important, sending a mixed message to readers.

But my more serious critique of the book has to do with its interpretation. Namely, I notice that some readers are interpreting Just Ride to mean that there is a very specific way to "just ride," and that those not following Grant Petersen's advice to the letter are doing it wrong. Seriously: Since this book came out, every time I mention clipless pedals, a carbon fork, padded cycling shorts, riding with a club, or enjoying watching a bicycle race, sure enough someone will throw the book at me - telling me that I must read Just Ride and mend my wayward ways. I am pretty sure this is not the spirit in which the book was intended by Mr. Petersen, but nonetheless that is how some folks are seeing fit to use it. And to them I have this to say: We do not need more "you're doing it wrong" narratives in this crazy, fragmented bicycle culture. What we need is more inclusivity. As far as I am concerned, if you are enjoying riding your bike, you are doing it right - regardless of how high your handlebars are or what material your bicycle is made of. Let's all just ride our bikes in ways that make us happy, and not pass judgment on others. 

Just Ride may be available at your local bike shop or book store, or it can be purchased from Rivendell direct. 

Categories: books, product reviews, Rivendell

The Return of the Camping Bike

The idea of bike camping has been creeping into our insular little bicycle culture for some time now, but I confess to being rather dismissive of the trend. Sure, some people go camping by bike. But so much so as to create demand for camping-specific bicycles? Nah, I thought. But seeing the decals on the new Velo Orange "Campeur" model at Interbike earlier this year really brought it home for me: Camping bikes are for real. The now in-progress long term review on the Gypsy by Trade blog has further fueled my curiosity. 

The camping-specific bike is not a new concept. The original French campeurs, popular through the 1940s-1960s, were designed for cyclo-camping - a variation of cyclo-tourisme involving shorter trips and heavier loads. Typically these bikes were built with 650B wheels and wide tires. Front and rear low-rider racks were standards features. 

Frames in larger sizes were often built with supplementary diagonal stays, to prevent flex. 

Today, Rivendell offers several "diagatube" bicycle models based on a similar premise. This is fitting considering that the current popularity of bike camping is in no small part due to Rivendell's promotion of what they call the S24O: the sub-24 hour overnight trip. The idea is that you set off after work, ride to a local camping spot, spend the night there and return in the morning. Whereas full-on bicycle touring requires considerable time commitment, even the busiest of people can manage the S24O. There are now blogs and a flickr group dedicated to the practice. 

So what is the relationship between bike camping and a camping-specific bike? In a sense, any bike that can carry camping gear comfortably will be suitable for the job. Beyond that, it mostly depends on the length and terrain of your route. Touring bikes equipped for wide tires, fenders and racks - such as the Surly Long Haul Trucker and a number of Salsa and Rivendell models - have made popular choices. There has also been a trend to convert vintage touring bikes to 650B wheels (for extra tire clearance) and use them in this capacity with the addition of front and rear racks. But a camping bike could also be a transport bike, even a cargo bike or a capable folder for that matter. There is no precise definition.

So what can we expect from a camping-specfic bicycle model? A number of features come to mind: robust tubing to accommodate the weight of gear, long chainstays for pannier/heel clearance in the rear, eyelets for front and rear racks, clearances for wide tires and fenders, and a reliable braking system. The VO Campeur is additionally interesting in its low-ish trail front end geometry, which some believe to be helpful for carrying a considerable front load. 

Will camping bikes take off? The concept of bike camping already has, so it's really a matter of whether the campeur is sufficiently distinct to carve out its own niche. I suspect the concept inspires and attracts a slightly different crowd from those who would go for a standard touring bike, and that's kind of interesting in of itself to observe. Personally, let's just say I am happy to live vicariously through others' bike camping adventures, while traveling light myself. But to the bike campers out there: What is your bicycle of choice, and do you see value in a bike that is optimised for camping?

Categories: bicycle industry, Interbike, racks, Rivendell, Velo Orange

Rivendell Sam Hillborne: 2 Year Review

It has now been nearly 2 years since I began riding my Rivendell Sam Hillborne and it seems a retrospective is overdue. My initial review of the bike was written in the Fall of 2010 after 6 months of ownership, and it was basically a celebration of what this bicycle did for me over the course of that time. I had not been able to master riding a roadbike with drop bars until I got the Sam, and so this bike opened up a whole new world to me and made me very happy. Two summers later, I am a different cyclist than I was back then, and my main roadbike is currently a racing bike with skinny tires. So while the Rivendell Sam Hillborne has not changed over the time I have owned it, my perspective has changed dramatically and it is only natural that this review will reflect that.

In its essence the Rivendell Sam Hillborne is a road-to-trail bicycle optimised to fit fat tires and to carry a good amount of weight. Smaller sized Sams are designed for 650B wheels and larger ones are designed for 700C wheels. The frames are made with cantilever brake bosses, eyelets for fenders and racks, braze-ons for two water bottle cages, a kickstand plate and a pump peg. The lugged steel frame is built with oversized tubing that is somewhere in the middle on the heavy-duty scale as far as Rivendell models go. A good way to describe this bike would be as a touring bike with off road capacity. It can also be set up as a transportation bicycle, since it can be fitted with either drop or upright handlebars. The current price for a Taiwan-built frame is $1,050 - almost half the price of most other Rivendell models. It is worth noting that "back in the day" when I got the bike, it was the pre-2TT era and this model came standard with just a single top tube. Now the larger sizes have double top tubes.

The frame geometry is relaxed (71.5° seat tube angle) and "expanded," with a 6° sloping top tube. The Rivendellian concept of an expanded frame is the exact opposite of what in standard roadbike speak is known as a compact frame. A compact frame's sloping top tube is designed to have lots of seatpost showing and the handlebars low. An expanded frame's sloping top tube is designed to have little seatpost showing and the handlebars high. Unless I am completely misunderstanding these ideas, the compact frame and the expanded frame are in fact one and the same, only the sizing is determined differently. According to the compact philosophy, the size of the bike is determined by the top tube's virtual intersection with where the seat tube would have been, had the top tube been level. According to the expanded philosophy, the size of the bike is determined by the actual seat tube length. As such, by Rivendell's standards my Sam is a 52cm frame, and it is the size they recommend for a person of my height. However, a compact geometrist would consider my frame to be more like a 56cm given how tall the headtube is and how long the top tube (57.5cm). 

Have I thoroughly confused some of you? Think of it this way: Rivendell's sizing guidelines assume that the rider wants their handlebars at or above saddle height. If that's what you want, go with their sizing guidelines. But if you want a more aggressive position with handlebars below saddle height, go smaller. Given my current riding style, technically the bike I own is now too big for me to set up exactly as I would prefer (ideally I'd like a longer stem and the bars several cm lower). On the other hand, Rivendell's philosophy is what enabled me to learn how to ride with dropbars in the first place. The fit and geometry of this frame size worked well for me two years ago and I was thankful for it.  

Currently my 52cm frame is fitted with a 70mm stem, a zero-setback seatpost, and bars 1cm or so below saddle height. The bike is set up with a Shimpagnolo drivetrain with a triple crankset, a 9 speed touring cassette and Veloce ergo levers. The 650B wheels were built with a dynamo hub in the front, which powers the headlight and tail light. The tires are 42mm Grand Bois Hetres. The bike is fitted with VO Zeppelin fenders, a Nitto front rack, and a large Ostrich handlebar bag. I also have a Nitto Campee rack with lowrider attachments that I use during loaded trips, but it is not part of the bike's usual setup. I use Power Grips as foot retention. This setup was arrived at gradually, but has remained stable since the middle of last summer. The complete bike weighs around 30lb, give and take depending on how it is set up. There is no toe overlap.

I am very pleased with the aesthetics and the construction quality of this bicycle. Rivendell is one of the few manufacturers that designs its own lugs instead of using commercially available lugsets, which I find really cool. You can see my close-up shots of the lugwork here. The frame is finished beautifully, with no imperfections. There is a couple of small chips in the paint after two years, but they are not noticeable unless you know where to look. I love the c. 2009 shimmery moss-green of my frame and the dark gold accents. I like the design of the headbadge and the decals. I like the fork crown design on my frame, which is slightly different from subsequent fork crowns on the same model (see the comparison here). I do not mind the 6° top tube slope, though if given a choice I would prefer a level tube. 

As far as weight, I do wish the bike were a bit lighter while retaining the characteristics that make it what it is - namely the fat tires, fenders, rack, handlebar bag and dynamo lighting - none of which I am willing to give up. However, I recognise that the 30lb range is a fairly typical weight for bikes of this style, built up in the same manner. 

I will take a deep breath at this point and tackle the subject of speed. Over the past year, I have been test riding some racing bikes and a lightweight randonneur, and being that the Rivendell Sam Hillborne was my only basis for comparison at that point I described those bikes as "faster" than the Riv. The biggest difference I feel between the Sam Hillborne and the racier roadbikes is the acceleration: the Sam is not as quick to take off from a stop and not as quick to accelerate. All that said, I think it's important to note that those comparisons should be considered in context. The Rivendell is slower than racing bikes, because it is not a racing bike. It is a heavier, more relaxed machine, designed to perform a different function. It is reasonably fast for a touring bike.

When it comes to handling, my favourite characteristic of the Rivendell Sam Hillborne is that it is stable and intuitive. In describing test ride reports often I'll mention that such and such a bike takes getting used to before it starts to feel "normal." By contrast, the Sam Hillborne does not require getting used to; it's intuitive from the beginning and remains so. Everything feels safe, neutral and predictable. It is stable at slow speeds and it is stable at high speeds. It is stable uphill and it is stable downhill. It turns easily and does not need to be "forced" to corner. Neither does it "over-react" on turns. The wide tires on my bike further enhance the stability, as well as contribute to the cushy ride quality. Once you've ridden  on 650Bx42mm tires over pothole ridden roads and dirt trails, it is difficult to forget the ride quality. 

My favourite rides on the Sam Hillborne are those best described as "exploring." Unstructured, rambling, with no time constraints or ideas about optimal speed. With my camera in the handlebar bag, a book, some food, maybe a notebook, a pen and some extra clothing, the bike feels like home away from home.

And perhaps the most definitive characteristic of the Sam Hillborne is its ability to carry weight. As I've mentioned previously, I ride this bike with a full handlebar bag and experience no adverse effects on speed or handling. The bike just does not care.

When we went on vacation last summer and did not want to bother renting a car, I carried most of our (2 weeks' worth of) things on the Sam and it was great fun. Carrying weight on a bicycle is not merely a matter of attaching racks and strapping stuff on. Not all bikes do well under a front and/or rear load, and not all bikes have the proper clearances to carry panniers. The Sam Hillborne was designed specifically for things like this, optimised for the culture of "bike camping" that's so popular with Rivendell owners. The front end seems insensitive to properly supported weight, the chainstays are long enough for panniers without heel-strike, and the frame's tubing is robust enough to handle the weight itself. It is really a shame I do not take advantage of these characteristics more often. 

In my view, the Rivendell Sam Hillborne is a good choice for loaded touring, bike camping trips, commuting, exploring-by-bike, and all around casual riding - on paved and unpaved terrain. To get the most out of this bike, I would definitely recommend lights, fat tires, fenders, a rack, the whole nine yards - it's what makes it special. If, on the other hand, you are looking for an aggressive lightweight roadbike for training rides, competitive long distance events and such, this isn't it and was not meant to be (Rivendell does make a more aggressive and paired down model that may be more up that alley). 

I have tried to put together my thoughts on this bicycle in a way that is fair and well-ballanced. For anyone deciding whether a Sam Hillborne is right for them, I suggest reading my original 2010 review and this review (if you can stomach that much of my writing, that is) in sequence: They are both sincere and accurately describe my impressions of the same bike at different points in time. 

Categories: bicycle reviews, Rivendell

Weight Distribution Mysteries

One thing that continues to mystify me about frame design, is how different bicycles react to weight distribution. Over the years, I've really found this aspect of a bicycle's handling to be a wildcard. My Rivendell Sam Hillborne is built like a typical mid-trail touring bike, which, it is said, makes it optimal for carrying heavy loads in the rear but only moderate loads in the front. However, I prefer to ride this bike with an enormous handlebar bag, and it does very well with it. It also handles well with a saddlebag and panniers, but interestingly the handlebar bag - with the same amount of weight in it - does not appear to affect speed at all, whereas the saddlebag does a bit. If I am going on a fast ride, I remove the saddlebag but do not bother removing the handlebar bag. All of this is just fine with me, because I find it far more convenient to keep my stuff in the front for easy access. But it goes against my understanding of the way a bicycle like this is supposed to react to weight. 

Then there is the Moser racing bike, which reacts badly to any weight I put on it at either end. The front gets twitchy with even a small bag attached. And with any saddlebag larger than a tiny wedge the bike feels distinctly rear-heavy. A few times I've affixed a mid-sized saddlebag so that I could carry my camera, and it felt like trudging through mud compared to the speed this bike is normally capable of. On the other hand, a full water bottle on the downtube (the bottle weighing about the same as my camera) has no effect, and neither does my own weight gain when I stuff my jersey pockets with all the things I would have otherwise kept in a bag.

Riding bikes like this has made me understand why some cyclists chose to ride with backpacks instead of baskets or panniers - some bicycles simply do not handle well with weight on either end, but do fine when the weight is part of the rider. This is one reason the argument "If you want to lighten your bike, lose some weight" does not make sense to me. You cannot simply take the combined weight of a bicycle, its accessories and its rider, and assume the handling and speed will be the same as long as the total remains the same.

My first city bicycle - a Pashley Princess - came with a huge front basket, but it did not handle well for me when I put things in the basket. Eventually I removed it and attached a set of rear folding panniers instead. With that configuration the bike handled much better, and faster. When I carried weight in the rear, I could detect no difference in speed, even with a full load of groceries.

On the other hand, the Bella Ciao city bike I now ride - while faster than the Pashley overall - is more sensitive to weight in the back. The handling doesn't change, but I can feel a difference in speed depending on how heavy the load I am carrying is. 

With pretty much every bicycle I've ridden over an extended period of time so far, I've noticed some sort of relationship between weight distribution and handling, and it is not always a logical one - or at least not obviously so. I am sure there are lots of factors contributing to these effects, and these factors are just too nuanced to be obviously discernible. It's interesting to figure this stuff out in the process of getting to know a bike. 

Categories: bags, Bella Ciao, Moser, Pashley, Rivendell

Doesn't Even Have a Top Tube

Rivendell Betty Foy [review here]

The other day I received an email newsletter from Rivendell, where, among other things, they announced that their mixte model - the Betty Foy - is becoming their most popular bike... which, they promptly added, "was quite a surprise considering it doesn’t even have a top tube." 

Okay, so I know that was meant to be tongue in cheek. At least I think/hope. But it references a sentiment that is prevalent in the bicycle industry: that step-through/mixte frames are inherently inferior to diamond frames and therefore it is not worth making them with the same degree of care, precision and attention to detail. After all, customers are unlikely to buy these frames at the same price point as diamond frames. This idea comes from the fact that the "two triangles" design of the diamond frame construction is stiffer and stronger than any variation of the step-through design, and I do not intend to disagree. But there is more to a bike than that, particularly when we are talking about "real world" bikes. When it comes to accessibility, ease of transporting a rear load, and cycling in one's everyday clothing, step through designs are in fact superior. It is no surprise that people are willing to pay for them. 

Soma Buena Vista [review here]

When I considered buying a Betty Foy over two years ago, it left me with mixed feelings to read the following in the description of the bike: "This style - mixte, lady's bike, step-thru, whatever you like to call it - came about originally to allow a woman's dress to drape gently down so it wouldn't get blown up by the wind. Most women don't wear dresses anymore, and if they do they don't ride bikes in them; but there remain benefits to this style frame..." And this was the manufacturer talking, trying to sell this bike? Sheesh. Walk into any clothing store or office building, and it is clear that women can and do wear skirts and dresses. And why on earth should they not ride bikes in them? The Betty Foy's popularity is not news to me, or to anyone else who is familiar with the female bicycling blogosphere. Countless women with an online presence pine for this bike, if they don't have one already. After all, bikes like the Betty and the Soma Buena Vista are well-suited for hilly, long distance real-world North American commutes, and many women turn to them when Dutch-style bikes prove not to be sufficiently fast or light for their needs. But there aren't enough bikes like this made; we need more.

I was so excited when Velo Orange introduced its lugged mixte in 2010, and I was equally disappointed when they discontinued it in 2011 - due, apparently, to less than stellar sales. I have a theory about why the VO mixte did not sell, and I will state it at the risk of being perceived as sexist. My impression is that (despite some vocal commentators ready to argue the opposite) it is women who mostly want mixtes. But VO was reluctant to cater mainly to women, and so they intentionally made the colour scheme aggressively sporty/ masculine just to say "look, this bike really is unisex!" Okay, yes technically it's unisex. But what ended up happening, is that many of the women who would have otherwise loved to buy a lugged mixte frame found the colour scheme unappealing. And the men did not want a mixte in the first place. I have a strong feeling that if VO were to introduce the same frame in a different colour it would sell. I hope very much that they give this a try some day.

Royal H Custom Mixte [review here]

Even custom framebuilders have a difficult time constructing lugged step-through and mixte frames, because standard lugs for these designs are no longer available. A few years back Reynolds stopped producing tubing suitable for mixte stays, which is why Mercian has discontinued their classic mixte and now makes only this. I believe there is money to be made in producing batches of split-stay mixte lugs and tubing, for anyone interested. 

Bike manufacturers need not be afraid of step-through frames. And they need not be afraid of catering to women. And they need not be afraid of acknowledging the fact that many women wear skirts and dresses, and for this and other reasons they prefer step-through frames. Please do make bikes without top tubes, and make them nice. Rivendell is a case in point that it makes sense financially.

Categories: bicycle industry, mixte, Rivendell, Royal H. Mixte

Understanding Hills

Like Eskimos are said to have many words for snow, it seems to me that cyclists ought to have many words for hills. After all, what does it really mean when terrain is described as "hilly?" There are the short city hills that only seem like hills when I ride my upright 3-speed, there are the long and annoying false flats, the rollers, the twisty hills, the mountain passes. My perception of hills also changes over time. Rides I considered hilly a year ago, I now think of as "mostly flat," in light of some other hills I've ridden. And then I get annoyed at myself, because I remember when others described those rides as "mostly flat" and I felt bad, because to me they certainly seemed hilly. Hills are a fluid concept.

The more hills I ride, the more I realise that steepness and duration alone are not what makes them easy or difficult for me. More than anything, the pattern of grade change can make all the difference between enjoying the challenge of the climb and hating it. On a hill with a consistent grade, I can "settle into" the climb, whereas a hill with erratic grade changes drains my energy much faster. In the picture here I am standing atop of a relatively mild, but much despised hill after just having climbed it. It's hard to explain why I hate this stretch of incline so much, but it messes with my head. Starting immediately after a traffic light near the center of Lexington, it initially acts like a normal hill and as I near the top, I feel a sense of accomplishment: almost made it. But just as I reach what appears to be the crest of it - and this gets me every time - not only does it continue, but suddenly it becomes steeper. That last stretch, usually with my gearing already maxed out, just always manages to drain my morale. By comparison, the nearby Page Hill is a more significant climb. But I find it easier to handle, because the grade transitions it goes though somehow feel more logical.

Lat week I got a new computer and it has this feature that shows the grade percentage. This little toy has made me ridiculously excited and I am finally getting a sense for what different grades feel like. It also allows me to quantify my suffering. A climb starts to feel effortful at 6%, difficult at 10% and when I got the "Mommy can I go home now?" feeling I glanced down to see 14%. I was also surprised to learn that the "flat" Minuteman Trail reaches a 4% grade in a couple of the false flat stretches. Are you falling asleep yet at this fascinating information?

I am told that lots of cyclists start out hating hills, but then grow to enjoy them more and more. It could be that I am in that category... how else could I enjoy making a game of guessing the grade?

Categories: Rivendell, roadcycling

A Custom Rivendell Roadbike

Some time ago I got the chance to try a custom Rivendell, built for local cyclist and bicycle mechanic Jim A. I had been eying this beautiful bicycle in Jim's corner at Harris Cyclery for a couple of years now and did not have the nerve to ride it. But as my curiosity grew and my bike handling skills improved, the stars finally aligned and it all culminated in a test ride.

As far as Rivendells go, this one is both iconic and unique. The lugwork and color scheme look quintessentially Rivendellian, but the frame was built by Roland Della Santa in 2000, whereas today their custom frames are usually built by Mark Nobilette. Of course being custom it was also built according to Jim's proportions and specifications, in particular to accommodate his long legs and a short torso.

As far as lugwork, there are some special touches such as the double-plated fork crown,

the elegant seat cluster,

and the filigreed lugs framing the contrasting head tube panel. Of course I love the sage green and cream color scheme. If I were to get a custom Rivendell this is pretty much what it would look like.

Jim has this bicycle set up with Nitto Noodle handlebars, bar-end shifters, a compact drivetrain, Panaracer Pasela 28mm tires, and a green Brooks B17 saddle. The frame was built for short reach brakes, and will fit a 28mm tire with fender.

The frame size is 54cm x 53.5cm. With its standard diameter tubing, level top tube, and road geometry, this bicycle resembles a classic roadbike more so than Rivendell's currently produced models - which was one reason I was interested in trying it.

I rode the bicycle for a 5-8 mile loop through the suburbs with some hills. While I did not put the bike "through the paces" (I was still pretty nervous about marring its pristine condition), I did get a basic sense for its handling and speed. And... my main impression was that it handled similarly to my Mercian -  to a freewheel, geared version of it, that is. The acceleration, the turning, and just the general feel of the Rivendell felt so similar that it was as if I was riding a different version of my own bike. With the handlebars set up for Jim but the saddle lowered for me, I was more upright than I wanted to be, and also there was some toe overlap with the front wheel, so on my own bike the specs would be a little different. But otherwise it felt comfortable, while also being lighter and more responsive than the stock Rivendell Sam Hillborne I own.  

It is hard to believe that 2000 was 12 years ago, but time does fly. Since they opened shop in 1994, Rivendell's philosophy has been shifting consistently in the direction of wider tires, hardier tubing, upright handlebars, greater off-road capacity, and reinforced frames (double top tubes, diagonal tubes, etc.). But in the past they did offer more roadish models that were essentially classic lugged steel road-to-trail bikes with decent tire clearances - nothing fancier or more eccentric than that. Trying a custom bicycle from this period was a treat, and has helped me understand the company's history. Many thanks to Jim A. for allowing me to ride his bike and to share these pictures. 

Categories: bicycle reviews, Rivendell, test rides

Side by Side

My last ride of 2011 was with the delightful Bekka of Bikeyface, who is slowly but surely getting drawn into roadcycling (eeexcellent). We've been practicing our "epic" faces, as you can see. 

We had some things to talk about, so we decided to "go for coffee" - a 20 mile ride to the Ride Studio Cafe and back. 

Once there, we nearly took the rack down with 60lb of collective bike poundage, but never mind!

The weird thing about riding with Bekka, is that her bicycle - a Surly Cross-Check - is the same make and model as the Co-Habitant's bike - only about half the size and built up very differently. The smaller sized Cross-Check frames have sloping top tubes and different seat tube angles (75° on the 42cm frame vs 72° on the 62mm frame), so altogether her bicycle registers as sort of the same bike as his, but not really. Freaky. And it also goes to show that when reading bicycle reviews and test ride reports, it's worth paying attention to the size of the bike described - this factor can make a difference. But despite the blatant differences in frames, both Bekka and the Co-Habitant are quite happy with theirs, so it seems fair to conclude that the Cross-Check is a crowdpleaser.

With Bekka on the Surly and me on the Rivendell, we were pretty well matched for speed, which was nice. It was a quiet morning just before New Year and we were able to ride side by side some of the time. I used to be vehemently against cycling side by side on the road - especially in the city - because I felt that this distracted me from paying attention to traffic. Now I am less vehement about it, simply because I've ridden with people who cycle side by side as a matter of course and have learned to adapt. Still, I seldom have a good feeling about it. While in Massachusetts it is legal to ride two abreast, one could argue that doing so is not always practicable, and therefore not in good faith. It has also been known to provoke driver aggression. The local cyclists I've been riding with are split on this one, with some groups prohibiting riding two abreast and others insisting on it, so I am getting some rather mixed messages. I'd like to decide on a policy and stick with it without being influenced by the people I am riding with, but haven't made up my mind yet.

Switching from "lone wolf" cycling to riding with others has caused a rather dramatic upheaval in my little world. I had tried the social cycling thing before and did not enjoy it, but somehow this time around it clicked. Suddenly I have a full "dance card" of cycling events every week, and in the winter at that. Not that I am complaining! But this is definitely a new era, and I am curious what the future will bring. 

Categories: bike friends, bikeyface, Rivendell, Surly

Overthinking the Pink

A couple of weeks ago I got the inexplicable urge to redo the handlebars on my Rivendell with pink bar tape. I don't know. One day I was looking at the bike and suddenly felt that the earthtone and twine thing was getting kind of oppressive. The bike wanted to break free. With the streets growing more dreary with each passing day, a burst of colour was sure to break up the monotony. And that it certainly has: Now I feel as if I am riding a bike made of watermelon, or an enormous piece of tourmaline. It's nice and cheerful.

Of course, unlike other cheerful colours, pink is somewhat charged with meaning because of its associations with stereotyped femininity. So I was not entirely surprised to receive an email from a reader eager to discuss my new handlebar tape. She was disappointed that, while my choice in bicycle colours and accessories had hitherto been "the antithesis of girly," now here I was reinforcing the industry stereotype of women wanting pink on their bikes.

Heavy stuff. And as usual I find myself disagreeing and agreeing all at the same time. On the one hand, there is Elly Blue's post about "reclaiming pink." There is also the fact that originally, pink was considered to be a colour for boys. Finally, there is the Maglia Rosa of the Giro d'Italia - shouldn't that association trump the girly one?

On the other hand, I've heard too many women express frustration at the fact that the bicycle industry slaps pink colour schemes and floral motifs on everything that is designed for female cyclists ("shrink it and pink it") - from bike frames, to panniers, to cycling jerseys. I too find this annoying. But having thought about it for a couple of years, I suspect the real frustration here is that women-specific bicycles and products are oftentimes worse in quality than those designed for men. So the pink and flowery stuff, in combination with the inferior quality, is seen as a slap in the face: "Our marketing team believes you care about pretty colours and flowers more than you do about substance, so that is what we are selling you." 

Ultimately, I think that pink is a more versatile colour than we give it credit for, particularly in the context of cycling. It is really all about presentation. I will probably not keep the pink bar tape on this bike in the long run, simply because it overshadows the elaborate lugwork that really deserves the starring role here. But for now I quite like it, stereotyped or not.

What comes to mind when you think of pink bicycles or bike related products - Giro or girly? or something else entirely?

Categories: gender, handlebars, Rivendell, social commentary

Seatpost Setback and Related Matters

A couple of days ago I replaced the seatpost on my Rivendell Sam Hillborne with one that has zero setback, and the change has been interesting. Before I go any further, I will warn you that this is a continuation of the long top tube post. So if that one gave you a headache, please stop reading now and save your sanity! Or, continue at your own risk.

For those new to the concept of setback, seatposts come with different amounts of it. One of the things the setback does is move the saddle clamp back, thus altering a bike's effective seat tube angle. Say your bicycle frame has a 74° seat tube, and you buy a seatpost with 2cm of setback. Unless you counteract the setback by moving the saddle forward along the rails, your bicycle's effective seat tube angle will be 2° slacker, making it more like 72°. And you can make it slacker still by pushing the saddle further backward. By contrast, a seatpost that goes straight up with no setback leaves your frame's natural seat tube angle unaltered. Seat tubes today tend to be steep, so it is rare that anybody wants to make them steeper still. But with a zero-setback seatpost, it is possible to make the effective angle a bit steeper by pushing the saddle forward on the rails.

The other factor influenced by a seatpost's setback is the reach from saddle to handlebars. The more setback a seatpost has, the further the saddle moves away from the handlebars. Here it is worth noting that bicycle fit experts typically warn against messing with seatpost setback and saddle positioning in order to alter reach. Instead it is advised that one's saddle position preference should be fixed in relation to the bottom bracket. At least that is my understanding.

Getting back to my bike, it has a 52cm seat tube and a 57.5cm top tube - the latter being unusually long given the former. Additionally, it has a 71.5° seat tube angle, which is atypically slack. In previous posts I explained that when I ride this bicycle, I feel as if my body is not sufficiently forward. The long top tube will not allow me to fit the bike with a stem longer than 7cm, and the slack seat tube puts me further back still.

Originally the bike was built up with a seatpost with generous setback, making the effective seat tube angle even slacker than its natural 71.5°. Eventually I replaced it with a seatpost that had only minimal setback, but even that did not feel as if I were sufficiently forward. I was reluctant to go with a zero-setback seatpost, because everyone I spoke to acted horrified by the idea. "Zero setback? What are you trying to do, turn it into a racing bike?" However, after the "long top tube" post I came to the conclusion that a zero setback seatpost is the most obvious solution. Far from making the bike "racy," it would simply continue the frame's already slack seat tube angle without slackening it further. Or, I could move the saddle a tiny bit forward and make the effective seat tube angle a rather normal 73° (as it is on my other two bicycles with drop bars). So, that is exactly what I did.

The welcome side-effect of the new saddle position is that the long top tube problem seems to be resolved. My reach has been reduced considerably and I can get a longer stem if I want. But even with the current stem I already feel myself positioned significantly more forward on the bike than before. The subjective sensation of this is greater than I would have predicted: I feel more in control over the steering, and I feel that the bicycle is distinctly faster to accelerate and to start from a stop. Although visually the saddle comes across as being too far forward now, its relationship to the bottom bracket is actually quite normal for a roadbike (off-the-shelf road frames in my size typically have 74-75° seat tube angles). I need to take the bicycle on a longer ride before I can say more, but I think this setup may be just the thing.

It's been exactly two years since I received the Sam Hillborne frame as a holiday gift, and this bicycle has given me over 2,000 happy miles. I've changed a lot as a cyclist over this time and the Sam's frame is quirkier than I initially realised. But I am going to try and make it work for me - hopefully learning a thing or two in the process.

Categories: comfort, diamond frame, Rivendell

Long Top Tubes and Drop Bars

I was reading the Rivendell blog today, where Grant Petersen revealed a "mystery bike" that has been in the works for some time. It looks like this. And aside from the obvious oddities, it is endowed with an unusually long top tube for its size: a 62.5cm top tube on a 54.3cm frame. Apropos this geometry, Rivendell notes that the bicycle is "basically a flat-to-rolling land bike that, by virtue of it’s superlong top tube ...locks you into a sweeepyback bar." In other words, it would be difficult to set this bike up with drop bars due to the excessively long reach that would create. 

This got me thinking again about my own Rivendell bicycle: a Sam Hillborne that is a 52cm frame with a 57.5cm top tube. That is also an unusually long top tube, given the frame size. Aside from the standover, the 52cm frame fits like a much larger one - possibly too large for someone of my stature to set up as a roadbike. 

When I first got the bike, I could not ride with drop bars and so we did everything possible to ease me into it. The bike was built up with an extremely short stem (5cm) and the bars were set up considerably above saddle level. I rode it that way at first, gradually lowering the bars until finally they were level with the saddle. That felt fine for a while, and then came a time when I was ready for a longer stem (the 5cm was always meant to be temporary). The typical stem length for a roadbike is 9-11cm, but I soon understood that this range was out of the question given the long top tube - I would have to be lying down over the bike in order to reach the bars. So we replaced the 5cm stem with what we thought was an 8cm, but was actually a 7cm - and even that feels like a stretch. Now I find myself in bike fit purgatory: From the standpoint of how the bicycle handles, I feel as if I am not forward enough and would like a longer stem. But from the standpoint of reach, even the current stem is too long (and I have already shoved the saddle forward and replaced the seatpost with one that has as little setback as possible).  

According to Rivendell's sizing guidelines I belong on a 52cm frame, if not larger. However, it seems to me now that these guidelines are optimised for setting the bicycle up with upright handlebars (even though they do not explicitly say that). Otherwise I do not know how to interpret the sizing.  

Long top tubes are good for eliminating toe overlap. They are also ideal for fitting a bike with swept back handlebars, so that the bars don't hit your knees. But if you plan to set up a bicycle with drop bars at or below saddle level and use a standard length stem, a long top tube could be problematic - unless you have a long torso. If you own a Rivendell and have it set up as a roadbike, I would be interested in your take on this. 

Categories: comfort, diamond frame, Rivendell

The Weight Sneaks Up on You

Cycling along the Charles River last week, I stopped to enjoy the scenery and eat an apple, when a smiling couple approached me. They had seen a bike like mine at Harris Cyclery and the woman was considering getting one. She asked to have a closer look and examined it with admiration.

But her smile quickly fell when she tried to pick it up. "Oh my God! I don't remember the one at the bike shop being this heavy!" Oh boy, I thought... Did I just ruin a sale for Harris?

  

As a general observation, I get the sense that when people shop for bikes they often don't take into account which components and accessories the floor model is fitted with. And this can give them an inaccurate sense of what the bicycle would actually be like to use in everyday life, once they fit it with all the cool things they read about on the internet. They don't think it can possibly make that big of a difference. But of course it does. 

The first time I tried a Rivendell Sam Hillborne, the floor model was a basic build fitted with 35mm tires, and no lighting, fenders, or racks. Sure, it felt fairly light.

However, when my own bike was assembled, it got a dynamo hub, 42mm tires, aluminum fenders, a headlight, a tail light, a kickstand, a waterbottle cage, a stainless steel waterbottle, a computer, Power Grips, and a brass bell. Taken individually, each of these items seems hardly worth mentioning. But taken together, I could feel an obvious difference between my own bike and the floor model. Several  months later, I added a front rack. And then a handlebar bag. Naturally, the bike got heavier still. Finally, a year later I added a rear rack with removeable lowrider panels, which I don't always bother to remove. 

Moral of the story? It's real easy to turn a <30lb bike into a 40lb bike. Every extra component, every rack, bag, basket and other accessory we pile on adds weight - not to mention the stuff we end up carrying in those bags and baskets. And that's fine - that's normal and good, as all of those things are usually done to add functionality to the bike. But let's be fair and compare like to like. When bicycle shopping, beware that a floor model may appear lighter than your own bicycle, without actually being lighter once you set it up in the same manner.

Categories: bike shopping, Rivendell