Festive Fun with Flats

One of my plans for the holidays had been to get in some practice changing tires. Problem is, I very rarely get flats. And let's face it: Taking a tire on and off for no reason just isn't the same as the real deal. So naturally I was delighted when, on my way home last night, my front tire went flat for real. It was a dark and stormy night, with heavy traffic and freezing rain, affording the perfect opportunity to practice road-side repairs. Alas, it happened just a block from my house. Weak of character, I opted for the comforts of home. 

"Darling, guess what?" I shouted as I rolled the bike into our living-room. "I have a flat tire!"

"Oh my!" said my husband. "And it's a 650B with fenders no less. Are you going to fix it yourself?"

"Of course! This is the moment I've been waiting for."

Nodding eagerly, he opened a bottle of wine and made himself comfortable on our finest kitchen chair, in anticipation of the evening's entertainment.

Now I know you're wondering what wine goes best with this sort of thing. This is really a matter of personal taste. But generally speaking, if the tires are 650B I recommend red. It just so happened that we picked up a lovely Truro Zinfandel during our recent stay on Cape Cod. Not the pink one in the bottle shaped like a lighthouse, but the darker one in a regular bottle. Its smooth deliciousness makes the already relaxing process of fixing flats even sweeter. 

Aside from the wine and a keen spectator prepared to critique your every movement, in a tire-changing situation it might also be helpful to have a floor pump and a spare inner tube handy, as well as some tools. If you have a fun bike with a bolt-on front wheel like I do, you will need something to unbolt it. A tire lever may also be useful. 

But most importantly, if your bike has fenders, you will need a couch. After removing a wheel, you should not stand the bike on the floor, as this may bend the fender. And if you think bikes enjoy being hoisted up on a workstand, you are mistaken. Most bikes are afraid of heights, and getting them up there for reasons as small as fixing a flat is downright insensitive. Laying your bicycle down on the sofa will make it much more comfortable. It will also delight your spouse by showing them what a free-spirited, outside the box thinker you are.  

Finally, you may want to have a copy of an appropriately inspirational poster or publication in sight as you work. This will remind you of why these bicycles are so darn charming, as you gingerly handle the delicate aluminum fenders and deflate your 650Bx42mm tire in order to fit it through the centerpull brake caliper. 

Of course the most fascinating part of flat repair is finding its cause. Having never gotten a flat with Grand Bois Hetres previously, I was especially interested. Turned out the cause was a failed inner tube. This one had split right at the seam. It happens, even with the nicest tubes.

"It happens just often enough to remind us that we are never fully in control of our destinies," I sighed wistfully as I tested the front brake after re-connecting it. 

My husband nodded, moving the wine away from me gently. "Well, looks like you did it."

"And it only took me a half hour this time!"

"Oh, hardly that!"

And isn't that what working on our bikes is all about? Struggling for self-reliance in a world of chaos and uncertainty. Using it as metaphor for life. Entertaining our loved ones. Look out world, soon I'll be able to fix a flat in 20 minutes!

Categories: DIY, silliness

The Rewards of a Closer Look

There are bicycles that strike you as unique from the first glance, and then there are those that sneak up on you. When Ed showed me the rando bike he'd put together from a refurbished Miyata frameset, it seemed like a nice enough classic build. Fenders, racks, leather, twine. But on closer inspection, all sorts of curious features emerged.

First I noticed the unusual front rack mount. A small DIY bracket at the front curled under and bolted onto the fender. 

Initially I assumed this was to add extra stability to the rack. But then I realised the real function of this bracket - in addition to another one extending from the fork crown - was to hold up the fender. Or, more accurately, the front part of the fender. 

I had seen split fenders before, but what struck me about these was how subtle they were, how utterly integrated into the overall design of the bike. The split was something I noticed only after my eye led me to it as it moved from one end of the rack to the other. 

The tires are 700Cx28mm Gran Compe ENE Ciclo (brown, with tan sidewalls) and Ed was determined to make them fit along with the fenders. The split accomplishes this despite the lack of sufficient clearances under the brake bridge and fork crown. 

Both the front and rear racks were recycled from older bikes, and I noticed that the rear one was stamped "Jim Blackburn." This prompted me to look into the history of Blackburn Racks, and indeed they were once called by the name of the founder. The vintage racks - now quite sought after - used a single bracket design to connect to the brake bridge, whereas the Blackburns in current production use a two bracket design to connect to seat stay braze-ons. I also found an interesting article describing Jim Blackburn's contributions to research in weight distribution for loaded touring.

The components seemed like a random mix, until Ed explained that he was going for a Suntour-inspired build: mostly vintage Japanese (but no Shimano), with some modern VO and Dia Compe sprinkled in. While such a thing would never have occurred to me, gathering components that made sense within this paradigm had been an important part of putting the bike together, a game he'd enjoyed playing.

The more we talked about the bike, the more of these things I discovered. Subtle details, hidden meanings. What looked like "just" a nice bicycle at first glance became fascinatingly personal. And that's the thing about bikes. We don't really know what they mean, or represent to the owner. We don't know what the story behind each one is, until we ask. Maybe that's why I still can't seem to walk past a bicycle without a closer look, or at least a second glance. 

Categories: DIY, restoration, vintage

Frameset or Complete Bike?

In the comments of the previous post, a reader pointed out that the comparatively low MSRP of the frameset I described was not such a bargain, considering the likely cost of the complete build. Depending on the context, I both agree and disagree. So I'll take this opportunity to discuss the benefits, as I see them, of buying a frameset and building it up yourself vs buying a complete bicycle.

Purchasing a complete bike

When a manufacturer releases a bicycle model as a complete build, the price of the bike bundles together a number of things: the frame and fork, the components and accessories, and the labor involved in assembly. The price of the bike will be significantly lower than if you were to pay for all of these things individually. Assuming that you are happy with the components included in the stock build, this makes the bike a great deal compared to buying a frameset only and starting from scratch. You save money on components, you save money on labor, and on top of that you get the immediate gratification of having a ready to ride bicycle straight away.

But keep in mind that the more changes you make, the less of a great deal it will be - especially if you cannot do the work yourself and will need to pay extra for labor. Give particular consideration to whether you are happy with the stock drivetrain and shifting system. Changing this on a stock build can be costly. If the stock bike comes with 700C wheels and you want 650B, a conversion could be pricey. If you want dynamo lighting and the bike does not already have it, you will need to rebuild the front wheel with a dynamo hub, or replace it. If the stem length and handlebar width are wrong for you, you will need new ones. At some point, it might be more cost-effective to start from scratch.

Purchasing a frameset

When a bicycle model is available as a frameset only, it is an opportunity to assemble the bike according to your needs from the start. You can choose the exact gearing you want, your preferred model of levers and brakes, the correct stem length and handlebar width, and a comfortable saddle. You can integrate dynamo lighting into the build from the get-go. In the event the frame is compatible with more than one wheel size, you can choose the wheel size that suits you, instead of executing an aftermarket conversion. Going the frameset-only route is an especially great deal for those who are DIY tinkerers (or live with one) and can do the work without the help of a bike shop, and for those who already have a bunch of components lying around waiting for a frame.

But before buying a frameset, it is a good idea to make sure the bike you want really is different from an available stock build. Oftentimes novice buyers cannot distinguish between what's a big deal to change and what isn't. For example, if a bike is missing fenders and racks, you can add them without making changes to the existing build, thereby still enjoying the savings of starting with a complete bike. Also, if it's a matter of stem length and seat post setback, some bike shops are willing to swap those at no extra cost. Finally, the stock models are usually set up generically - with plain handlebar tape, plastic pedals and unsightly reflectors. While this does not look as nice as a custom build, you can easily and inexpensively personalise the bike without needing to start from scratch.

One thing to add, is that a direct cost comparison between framesets and complete builds is not always possible. While some manufacturers offer both options, others offer only one or the other. The make and model you choose in the first place might depend on which you prefer. For heavy-duty city bikes, there are now plenty of complete stock models available that require few if any aftermarket alterations. Ditto for standard roadbikes. As for 650B mixtes, and other non-mainstream specimens, not so much.

Categories: bike shopping, DIY

EZ Tools? Finding What Works

I knew that I was pushing my luck, riding a bike that had just been assembled the previous day. And sure enough: 5 miles into the Vermont Fall Classic my dynamo headlight rattled loose. I was just about to rummage around for my folding multitool, when a riding companion, Vorpal Chortle, whipped out a little wrench-looking thingie with multiple heads that I'd never seen or used before. "Here, maybe one of these is the right size?" It was. Without getting off the bike, I tightened my headlight and a moment later we were on our way again.

No one thought that anything out of the ordinary had transpired, but I was stunned. This was not what tightening bolts on a bike was normally like for me. This was done without effort, and more importantly, without the usual flood of shame and anger at my helplessness.

I've explained before the situation with working (or rather not working) on my own bikes. It's not that I don't know how or don't want to learn. I can give others tutorials on bike repair. But I have problems with my hands that limit my hand strength, dexterity and fine motor skills. Even just holding some tools is difficult: They fall out out of my hands, because my fingers can't grip them tightly enough or wrap around them in the right way. In the very best case scenario, I might be able to do an easy repair (like tightening a headlight bracket) but it will take ages. I have tried individual wrenches, Y-wrenches and folding multi tools, and it's always the same story. How or why the flimsy looking Park Tool MT-1 was any different was beyond me.

Shortly after the Vermont Classic I bought an MT-1 of my own (available locally at Harris Cyclery), and can now easily handle anything on a bike that requires a 3/4/5/6/8mm allen wrench, an 8/9/10mm socket wrench, or a straight blade screwdriver. That does not cover everything, but it's a start. There is something about the size and shape of this thing that both stays put in my fingers and provides enough leverage to compensate for my lack of hand strength. The joy this has brought me is almost embarrassing (thanks Vorpal Chortle!).

Granted, this particular tool may not work for everyone. But my point is, if you are finding bike repairs physically difficult there might be something out there that does work. I am going to experiment more aggressively from now on, and maybe I will find tools for all the other tasks I still have trouble with. For instance, I might be imagining this, but I recall watching a woman use a collapsible type of lever that connects to the hub axle(?) to remove a tire in one fell swoop. Maybe I ought to look into that and try to get my flat fixing time to under 30 minutes. In the end, I would love to put together a list of "EZ Tools" suggestions, but I'm not sure how universally applicable these things are. Ultimately, we must keep experimenting to find what works for us, and for some this will be tougher than for others.

Categories: DIY, tools

Of Sand, Wood and Crossing State Lines: The Quest for a Curvy Fork

Because I like to keep things simple, the bicycle I am making is of course a low trail design. And low trail means a fork with a lot of rake. A very curvy fork, in other words. Not only did I want it to be curvy, but I wanted it to be that special kind of French-curvy where instead of a gradual "banana" bend, there is a dramatic flick toward the tips of the blades (like so).

When you buy supplies for making a fork, what you get is two straight blades that are (hopefully) a bit longer than you need them to be, and a crown which those blades plug into. It is then up to you to rake the blades. The style of bend I wanted requires using blades that are designed to withstand such dramatic manipulation. I went with the Kaisei Toei blades, which were already familiar from other projects I've been involved in. 

To get the fork blades bent as desired, we needed a special setup that was not locally available. So we payed a visit to Cirlce A Cycles in Providence RI, about 30 miles from Mike Flanigan's shop. They have a fork bender that was made specifically for the French-style bend and could produce the 73mm of rake I wanted. The furry receptionist granted us permission to use it. 

Since 73mm is a pretty dramatic amount of rake, Chris Bull suggested filling the fork blades with sand before bending. This would reduce the possibility of damage during the process. 

The blades were taped at both ends to contain the sand.

The fork bending press consists of a wooden block curved according to the French bend design (they have several of these presses, used for different styles of bends). There is a notch along the curve where the fork blade sits, held in place by a vise.

A giant lever is then pushed up, forcing the blade to adhere to the curvature of the wooden block. 

The further up you push, the more dramatic the bend.

At first we did not have an idea of exactly when to stop, so Chris eyeballed it and stopped when he thought the rake was around 50mm. Confirming that this was correct and that the bend was forming properly, he then continued the process until we finally had the 73mm rake we wanted. 

This is the dropout placement mockup. To determine the rake correctly, you need to know how and where the blade will be connected to the dropout. 

One thing that can go wrong during this process, is that the steel can get distorted. When this happens, you can see and feel a rippling on the inside of the bend. Thankfully this did not happen.

For the second blade we now knew exactly when to stop and had a marker in place. I did part of this bend myself and it was pretty cool to feel the blade give under the force of the lever. It is interesting that Circle A's setup makes you push the lever up rather than pull it down; I have never operated this kind of press before. 

Thanks to Circle A, I now have two symmetrical, beautifully raked fork blades that are waiting to become a fork. All I have to do is braze it.

Categories: bike friends, DIY, framebuilding, I'm building a frame

Trompe L'Oeil Lugwork

Having mentioned the idea of doing this as a joke some time ago, imagine my delight when I saw it in the wild: trompe l'oeil lugwork! Standing in the parlor of local pickelleur (randonneuring Dill Pickle bag maker) Emily O'Brien, when I first saw the bike across the room the illusion looked quite real. I figured it was an old beater frame, with the lugs spray painted to contrast the tubes. Then I got closer and realised the lugs looked unusually flat, and finally it hit me: They'd been cut out of tape and wrapped around the welded frame joints. 

And lest you think this project is only about the fabulous looks, it does have practical merit: The tape is reflective. Just imagine the beautiful lugs glowing in the dark... A fun DIY idea to spruce up a boring frame in any event. 

Apparently I am not the only one to have been fooled from a distance, as cyclists stop Emily all the time to ask about the interesting bike, usually assuming it is something vintage and Italian. Any guess as to what this bike is? Hint 1: It's a ubiquitous modern steel bike. Hint 2: The fork crown is lugged for real.

Categories: DIY, lugs, silliness

Storing Water on a City Bike

Many city bikes are made without braze-ons for bottle cages on the frame. This is probably because they don't look right with roadbike-style bottle cages, and manufacturers expect that trips on these bikes will be short anyhow. But what about those of us with longer commutes, especially in the summer heat and humidity? While clamp-on bottle cages exist that can be fitted onto the frame without braze-ons, the shape of the frame can make attaching them challenging and unsightly. 

With upright handlebars, it is also not exactly convenient to reach all the way down to the down tube or seat tube for the water bottle. Most seem to prefer alternative solutions. 

DIY handlebar setups are popular, and above is the Co-Habitant's somewhat eccentric solution. He modified regular water bottle cages to clamp onto the bars and can have up to two water bottles at his fingertips as he rides. For him this setup works nicely, though others might find it cluttered - particularly on bikes with not a great deal of room in the "cockpit." 

A more conventional solution is to install a coffee cup holder, the likes of which several manufacturers are producing now. From what I hear, the quality of these holders varies from one brand to another, and they do not fit all water bottles. But if you get one of the good ones and it does fit your bottle of choice, they can work great. 

Personally, I prefer to have as few items attached to my handlebars as possible and would rather carry water in my bag or basket. When I ride a full-sized city bike, I keep a bottle of water in my pannier and keep the pannier unzipped for easy access. When I get thirsty en route, I reach for the water when stopped at a red light, drink, then put the bottle back when done. I don't need to turn around in order to do this and kind of know where it is by feel. 

On the Brompton it is easier still, because the Carradice front bag has stiff rider-facing pockets that are the exact size of a small Klean Kanteen bottle. I can reach the bottle, drink from it, and put it back in the pocket without having to stop the bike. Of all the different ways I have carried water on a city bike, I think I prefer this front pocket option most of all. Not only is the water bottle close at hand, but I then easily can take it with me once off the bike without having to carry it in my hand. 

Do you feel the need to carry water when riding for transportation? Do you think city bikes should come with provisions for doing so? Please share any clever systems you've come up with as well. 

Categories: bags, DIY

Children's Bicycle Revamped

Visiting Nao of Tomii Cycles this morning, I finally saw this little gem in person  - the bicycle he put together for his son Fugo. It is really something to see a tiny children's bike this elegant!

The frame started out as a regular kid's mountain bike (Nao doesn't remember for sure what it was, but possibly a Schwinn). Stripped of the original paint, it was powdercoated a robin's egg blue and customised with some lovely components and accessories -

including the tiny stainless fenders with leather mudflap in front

and vintage-style reflector in the rear.

The drilled-out chainguard was powdercoated to match the frame.

The handlebars are the Belleville bars from Velo Orange, which are surprisingly proportional for the bicycle's size.

Caramel coloured basket-weave grips and tiny silver bell.

Prior to becoming a framebuilder, Nao had been making components under the 3RRR name, and often bikes in Boston can be found sporting his custom chainrings and headbadges. This propeller badge is one of his.

I really like how this bicycle came out. It's beautiful and intriguing, but not "too much" for a children's bike. Recycled frame with decorative and functional touches, coaster brake, single speed, kickstand, nothing fragile or complicated. I like how the caramel accessories complement the pastel blue frame. The padded saddle has a scrap piece of leather stretched over it and matches the mud flap. The wide knobby tires are great for riding in the dirt and grass of the back yard, as well as in the nearby park. When I went to pick up the bike, I was warned that it would be heavy, but I didn't really believe it. How heavy could a bike this tiny be? "It weighs more than my own bike!" Nao clarified, referring to his steel roadbike, and he was right! 

Fugo's relationship with this bicycle has been interesting. When Nao presented his son with the bike more than a year ago, the boy was not really impressed. He did not know how to ride yet and was not interested in learning. Then recently he suddenly wanted to try riding the bike. Nao was going to attach training wheels, but Fugo did not want them. He then got on the bike and began to ride, just like that.

The trouble with nice children's bikes, is, of course, that children outgrow them fairly quickly. But looking at Fugo's bicycle and watching him ride it, I still can't help but think it is worth it. Great job, Nao, and happy riding to you both.

Categories: bike friends, children, DIY, framebuilding, restoration

Re-shaping Deformed Leather Saddles: Trying the 'Blocking' Technique

Some time ago I acquired a vintage Brooks Colt saddle. The original Colts are pretty rare, so I was excited. Unfortunately the saddle was deformed, sporting a prominent ridge down the center. On top of that, the leather was hard as a rock. The saddle was outright painful to ride for more than a few minutes.

To deal with the ridge, I was encouraged to try the blocking technique: soaking the saddle in water to regain its original shape. And I received just as many warnings against trying the blocking technique: The saddle could snap in half or become even more deformed I was told, I could ruin it. So I will preface with a caveat: As I understand it, blocking has a spotty success rate. To be safe, I would suggest trying it only on a saddle that is already ruined and unridable, as mine was.

There are different variations of the method, and the one I initially used was as follows: I soaked the saddle under the faucet, both the surface and the underside, until it was evenly wet. I then wrapped it in a wet towel, wrapped that in a plastic bag and let it sit. Two days later I unwrapped the saddle to check on it and was stunned to discover that, while wet, it was still hard as a rock. The moisture did not seem to be soaking through at all. So I wrapped it back up and left it for an entire week. When I unwrapped it again, the saddle was a bit softer, but the ridge showed no signs of diminishing. I thought that if I left it in there any longer the saddle would start to rot. So I installed it on a trainer bike and tried riding on it, thinking I could now flatten the ridge that way. But it was too painful to ride and it wasn't working. Eventually, I gave up and decided the experiment was unsuccessful. I treated the saddle with a generous dose of Proofide and put it away in a box, not sure what I'd do with it.

Some time later, the Co-Habitant needed a saddle for one of his bike builds and I said he was welcome to give reviving the Colt another try. At this point, our collective memory of what exactly was done is less clear, but we agree that it involved yet more soaking. The way I recall it, this time he left the saddle in a sink filled with water overnight. Possibly more than once. Eventually the saddle did begin to show signs of softening, and when this happened he installed it on his bike and went out riding. 

The Co-Habitant weighs over 200lb, and I was worried that this was exactly the sort of situation where a soaked saddle might snap in half. However it did not snap, but began to straighten out under his weight. After a couple of rides and much Proofiding the deep ridge was flattened and now there are only a couple of gentle dimples in the sitbone areas. He says that the Colt is now very comfortable. It certainly looks nice and healthy: The colour is a rich warm chestnut and the surface is much smoother than it had been when I first received the saddle.

As our experience demonstrates, there is no one formula for this and you sort of have to play it by ear. The John Spooner description I linked to earlier suggests stuffing the saddle with newspaper after soaking it, but this did not seem appropriate in our case since the saddle was hardly soft enough even after excessive soaking. In general I'd say see how the leather behaves once you begin, and go from there. Start off conservative as far as water exposure, then get progressively more aggressive if that doesn't work. 

All things considered, the Co-Habitant's opinion is that the blocking technique is more trouble than it is worth and he does not recommend it. My opinion is that it really depends on how much you want to rescue that particular saddle, and how prepared you are to potentially ruin it in the process. I am glad that we revived the Colt and now have this beautiful, functional vintage saddle. What has been your experience with blocking or other saddle reshaping techniques?

Categories: DIY, restoration, saddles, vintage

Why Carry Tools I Can't Use?

In a recent post I wrote that, when roadcycling, I've come to prefer carrying just the bare minimum that fits in my jersey pockets instead of a full-fledged saddlebag or handlebar bag - as the latter I inevitably tend to overpack, ending up with a 30lb+ bike before I know it. However, I neglected to mention an object that is so small and unobtrusive that I basically think of it as part of the bike and forget it is even there: my saddle wedge tool pack. 

Mine is the small waterproof "Pak" by Fizik. It was put together by the Ride Studio Cafe and included with the Seven I had on loan last summer. When I returned the bike, I bought the bag from them and now use it on my own roadbike. A mere 5"x2.5"x2.5" it fits snugly underneath a narrow road saddle. It contains a set amount of objects and won't fit anything else, so there is no danger of overpacking it and weighing the bike down.

Inside the tiny bag is a folding allen tool, a spare inner tube, 2 tire irons and an air cartridge - just enough to take care of one flat tire and any mechanical problem that can be fixed with a 1.5mm-6mm hex wrench.

Of course, it helps to be able to use those tools. If you've been reading this blog for some time, you know that I am unable to do most of my own repairs. I know how to do them, but have nerve damage in my hands and lack the hand strength and fine motor control to physically do them. I can't open the quick releases on most wheelsets, it takes me a good half hour to get a tire seated on a rim even in the best case scenario, and turning an allen key with sufficient force is out of the question. Keeping in mind these limitations, I always check my bike thoroughly before leaving the house, use tires with puncture protection, know where the nearest bike shops are, and have cash and a phone in my jersey in case I get stranded in the middle of nowhere and need to call a taxi (for the record, the number of times that has happened so far has been zero).

So why carry tools if I can't use them? Because that way, others can help. When cycling alone, it would not be the end of the world to take a taxi home if my bike breaks down. But when cycling with another person, my mechanical malfunction can ruin their day as well. Last week I met up with another cyclist for a ride, and en route I noticed with horror that my front brake caliper had gotten misaligned, so that the left brake pad was rubbing the rim. I was unable to fix it myself, but I had the allen tool in my saddle wedge and my riding partner (who was not carrying her own tools that day) fixed it in 2 minutes. Having that tool pack made all the difference between doing the ride vs both of us having to go home.

I am of the school of thought that cyclists should not be shamed for being unable to do their own repairs. Not everyone can. But having a tiny tool pack permanently attached to my roadbike can at least make it possible for a more mechanically inclined cyclist to help me out, should the situation call for it.

Have you had mechanical malfunctions while out on your roadbike, and were you carrying any tools? If yes, were they helpful?

Categories: DIY, roadcycling, tools