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

Rise and Ride

I both am and am not a morning person. I do like to wake up early. But mornings are a still, quiet time, and while my mind is active (I can get a full day's work done before 9am), my body is not. So I sit and work, and drink endless coffee, until my body starts to feel more energetic and I am ready to face the world. Riding a bike before that point is not something I feel compelled to do. And yet, lately I've been doing it. Group rides tend to meet in the mornings, and friends with 9-5 jobs can only ride before work. My desire to join them has lured me onto the bike at some ungodly hours.

There is a lot to be said for early morning cycling. It's quiet. There is hardly any traffic. And it's beautiful - in a magical and almost eerie way that makes you feel special to be there. The world is allowing you to see it in its softest, least aggressive state. Once I am out there pedaling, I am glad to be doing it. But getting myself out of the house in the early morning can be difficult. 

What I found helps, is to force myself to be organised and to develop a routine. I check the weather and lay out everything I will need for the ride the night before - everything, from socks to jersey and chamois cream, in one accessible pile. This way I can shower and immediately get dressed without thinking. I fill my water bottle at the same time as I fill the kettle to make coffee in the morning. I put my phone, keys, and money in my jersey pockets as soon as I put it on, so that I don't have to scramble and search for them at the last second when I can potentially forget something. Then I eat breakfast, top up the air in my tires, and go. Things that I put on right before leaving - such as gloves and sunglasses - I keep inside my helmet by the door. 

If meeting up with another person or a group in cold weather, I've learned to make sure the meeting point has the option of seeking shelter. Somebody's house, a cafe, a building with a lobby, or at least a gas station that will let you wait inside with your bike. This way, if someone is late you do not have to wait in the freezing cold - it is extremely difficult to stand still in the cold for long, particularly first thing in the morning.

Now that it's spring and the days are longer, more rides will be scheduled for the afternoons. But I am still glad to have developed a morning routine, and it will especially come in handy once it gets really hot out. What time of the day do you usually ride?

Categories: Moser, roadcycling

Dirt Trails on Skinny Tires?

Earlier today I went on a "welcome back to roadcycling" ride with Fixie Pixie and the route she planned out had us going though some short stretches of dirt trails. FP was riding a Redline cyclocross bike with 30mm tires and I was riding the Moser with 23mm tires.

Now in the past I've been on rides with others where I've refused to go off road on narrow-tired bikes, thinking that surely this was unsafe - at least for someone like me. But for better or worse I've come to trust the Pixie and to agree to whatever she suggests. And so we went.

Riding off road on the Moser was surprisingly nice. In some ways it even felt easier than the bikes I have with fat tires, and I am trying to understand why. Possibly it is because the Moser is fast and doesn't get bogged down as much. But also, one thing I've noticed about bikes with racy geometry is that they "like to stay upright" more so than relaxed bikes. Maybe this is specific to me and my style of riding, I don't really know yet. But whatever the bike lacks in tire size it seems to make up for by recovering easily in instances where other bikes I own seem more prone to wiping out.

Maybe it is not as much about the tire size as it is about the bike itself - with certain geometries feeling more stable both on and off road? I do not understand the topic well enough to speculate. But it's interesting to discover that I do not need my 42mm tires to have fun and feel safe on dirt trails. Being able to go anywhere on one fast bike is simple and liberating.

Categories: bike friends, Moser, roadcycling, trails, unpaved

New Old Moser: a 400 Mile Assessment

Having now ridden Moser 2.0 for about 400 miles, I think it is time for a report. For those who do not feel like reading about the bike's entire history, this is a lugged steel racing frame circa 1978 fitted with nice Campagnolo components circa 1999. The Columbus "tretubi" frame is 52x53cm, with an 11cm stem, handlebars 1cm below saddle level (I would like to set them lower, but the stem won't go down any further), 700Cx23mm tires, and 175mm cranks. Gearing is 52/39t in the front and 12-26t (9-speed) in the rear. The complete bike weighs 22lb without the waterbottle. I have been riding it since the end of November, and the individual rides have ranged from 30 to 60 miles. Mostly these have been group and club types of rides, and mostly with riders stronger and faster than me.

I know that people are interested in whether building up an older steel racing frame is feasible for "serious" roadcycling, and based on my experience with the Moser I do not see why not. As far as weight, 22lb is not bad at all for a complete bike - I have picked up new bikes with aluminum frames and carbon forks and they felt heavier. If I want to shave even more weight off, it could be done with some strategic component upgrades, but honestly I did not feel that the weight was an issue for someone at my level of ability.

As far as speed, I was able to ride with strong cyclists the likes of which I did not think I'd be good enough to ride with, at what they call a social pace (15-18mph on average, depending on the ride), while also feeling some reserve. At no point did I feel "if only I had a faster bike!" while riding the Moser.

When climbing, the bike itself feels "eager" to ascend, and the only limitations I felt were my own and also the high gearing. I would need to get lower gearing in the long run, no question. But the bike itself was fine climbing. When I ran out of gears, I would simply "heave" us uphill. Sadly my legs no longer fit into my jeans as a result of this practice, but we can't have it all.

The ride quality on bad roads has no harshness to it despite the 23mm tires, I am very happy with this aspect. The frame's tubing feels wonderful and just right; perfect amount of flex and all that.

At slow speeds (and I mean very slow - like less than 10mph, when stalling in traffic) the Moser is a little twitchy (compared to my fond memories of the Seven at least, which remained stable even at a crawl), but I do not mind and can still easily control the bike.

The one and only inherent aspect of the handling that is a problem - and the more I ride, the more I realise it is a problem - is descending. I do not entirely understand what is going on and why. But basically at high speeds, the bike is extremely resistant to turning and this was rather scary to discover. At first I thought that I just needed to get used to being on a racy bike again, and that I was holding myself back because I was nervous. But nope, something odd is definitely happening with the high speed turns - not just 90° turns, but even following the curvature of a winding road on a descent. I cannot make the same turns that I know I had no trouble making on the Seven over the summer. So while the bike is capable of great speed, this handling issue ultimately makes me slower, since I hold myself back on descents when I do not feel in full control of the bike. I've been trying to understand what is causing this, and what I can do to counteract it, but my instincts are failing me. Naturally I try to take wider turns, but it isn't always possible, and I am just never at a point where I can let myself go on descents.

Exacerbating the descent problem is that I am not entirely happy with the braking power. I did not have a brakeset that would fit this bike, so I bought some Campagnolo Veloce calipers. While I realise that Veloce is not top of the line, I still expected it to be fully functional. I guess with my weak hands, not so much. We have adjusted the brakes this way and that, but coming to a complete stop (like at a stoplight or traffic light at the bottom of a hill) after a high speed descent is problematic.

There are other issues that have surfaced in the course of riding the bike. For instance, there are only braze-ons for one bottle cage, and during longer rides I needed more water. I could get a second bolt-on bottle cage, but it seems a shame to do that to this frame. As mentioned before, there is also quite a bit of rust on the frame that is not visible in pictures (like along the underside of the top tube). It might make sense to get the frame stripped, the rust cleaned up, a second set bottle cage bosses brazed on, and then the frame repainted.

In addition, the rear wheel does not want to stay put in the chromed horizontal dropouts unless the skewer is tightened with a death grip. When initially the skewer was closed with reasonable force, it became misaligned and jammed against the chainstays the first time I rode the bike. It is now tightened as tighteningly as can be and this has not happened since. But it means that I cannot remove the wheels on my own despite them being quick-release; I am not strong enough to budge the skewers.

On top of the too-high gearing, the pedal strike from the 175mm cranks, and the too-tall stem, all in all that adds up to a lot of stuff I would have to replace on the bike (the crankset, the cassette, the brakes, and the stem at least) even without the re-paint and second bottle cage question. I would be willing to make this investment for sure if I was 100% comfortable with the bicycle's handling, but this problem with descents now has me concerned.

And that is where I am right now with my assessment of the bike. More than anything, this experiment has convinced me that I do very much need a fast road bike. Despite the issues mentioned here, I just wanted to ride-ride-ride it all the time, even in the winter.  No time to ride? I found the time. Too cold? I got over it. Too early in the morning? Nonsense, the Moser beckons. Tamer, more sensible bikes are wonderful, but for whatever reason they do not have the same effect on me as this bicycle does and as the Seven did over the summer. I want a bicycle that is fast enough for club and paceline rides, comfortable over bad roads, and handles well for a ballance-challenged person like me. Is the Moser it? I love it and I hoped so, but I honestly don't know at this stage. Holding back on descents is a problem; I need to feel in full control of the bike if I am going to improve, not to mention for reasons of safety.

Categories: Italian bicycles, Moser, roadcycling, technique

Why Fixed Gear?

I have been riding fixed gear bicycles for about a year and a half now, and enjoy it so much that it is hard to talk about without getting embarrassed. Here in the Boston area, fixed gear is associated with a distinct cultural attitude and fashion sense, and I do not fit the mold. Seeing me on a bicycle with a fixed drivetrain often seems to surprise people, and I've been told on more than one occasion that I "don't seem like the type." While I suspect this is mostly used as a conversation starter by men, it still succeeds in making me self-conscious. What is it about fixed gear that I like so much and why do I "need" this type of bicycle?

I first tried a fixed gear bike in June 2010. I was staying in Vienna and pining over the nearby velodrome's summer closure, and a friend offered to teach me to ride a track bike so that I could ride around the velodrome building (this seemed very funny at the time - around the velodrome, get it?). I was afraid to try it at first, but as soon as I got on the bike I didn't want to get off it. It felt so natural and intuitive. My friend ended up leaving the bicycle with me for the duration of my stay in Vienna and I rode it in the park after work every chance I got. Cycling slowly due to the lack of brakes, I must have looked like an idiot, but didn't care. I discovered that on fixed gear, my bicycle handling skills somehow improved. I could make tighter turns, cycle through narrow spaces, control my speed better, and just be more in control. It felt as if I suddenly gained a better understanding of how a bicycle worked. The custom Italian track bike made for a now-retired racer felt unexpectedly comfortable, save for the curvature of the handlebars. I could ride this thing for hours with a silly smile on my face. It became clear during those rides that I needed a fixed gear bike of my own once I returned to the US. A friend of a friend sold me a good road frame for fixed gear conversion, and I mailed it to myself in Boston before leaving Vienna. 

Waiting for the road frame to arrive (it took over 3 weeks!) I couldn't stop talking about my experience with fixed gear, and just for the heck of it one weekend the Co-Habitant and I converted the Motobecane mixte I then owned to a single speed with a fixed/free flip-flop hub. Doing this was easy and inexpensive. We picked up a budget wheelset, modified the existing crankset, shortened the chain and that was pretty much that. I rode this bicycle around the city and out to the countryside, and it was great fun. But I mostly thought of it as a novelty. On an upright bike, I preferred a freewheel. This bicycle was a great hit around the neighbourhood though, especially when I fitted it with some colourful dressguards. The woman who later bought it planned to use it as a freewheel single speed, but liked the idea of having the fixed option by flipping the wheel.

Finally the vintage road frame I'd bought in Vienna arrived in the mail, and we quickly put it together. You might recognise this as the previous incarnation of the Moser I now ride as a geared roadbike. The tires here look huge, but they are 28mm Panaracer Paselas - the frame had just enough clearance for them if I did not use a rear brake. I rode this bike a lot, and particularly enjoyed it once it began to get cold. There was something about cold and dreary days on a fixed gear that was just magic. But while I loved riding the Moser, it became apparent over time that the frame was not really suitable for fixed gear conversion due to its very low bottom bracket. As my speed on the bike increased I started to get pedal strike when cornering on bumpy or uneven roads, and did not feel that this was safe. Last winter I began to look for another frame, which did not prove to be very easy given my criteria (lugged steel, horizontal dropouts, high bottom bracket, small size, and no toe overlap). I considered getting a frame from Royal H., but could not afford it. I considered the new SimpleOne from Rivendell, but learned that they would not be making one in my size. And that is how I came to be in possession of a Mercian.

By the time I ordered this bicycle from Mercian, I had a good idea of what I wanted in a fixed gear. I did not want a track bike, but a comfortable and somewhat relaxed roadbike that just happened to have a fixed gear drivetrain. I wanted to fit it with 28mm-32mm tires for road and occasional trails. I wanted it to have tame handling without feeling sluggish. All of this was done. When I began to ride this bicycle after we put it together, it was just the feeling I wanted. It is comfortable, intuitive, has no toe overlap or pedal strike, and I can ride it for quite a long time without getting tired.

So why fixed gear and what do I like about it so much? If I have to pin it down, there are two distinct elements of this type of bike that I enjoy. First, I simply find it soothing and pleasant. The motions my legs make on a fixed gear feel different - more circular and rhythmical. In that sense it is really not about speed at all, but about being able to ride with smooth and regular pedal strokes and enjoying the state of mind this puts me in. I find this to be very relaxing when I am stressed out. Even just riding in circles around the neighbourhood, the magical sensation of the drivetrain never fails to calm me down and clear my head. 

Second, I feel that riding a fixed gear roadbike helps me with technique. My movements feel more elegant and precise, and I can sense that I am developing a more intuitive sense of balance. I play games where I try to keep the bike going at all costs - slowing down to a crawl before a traffic light rather than stop as I wait for it to turn green. I also like to see how fast I can accelerate under different circumstances, and play "sprinting" games until I get out of breath. This is much more interesting to do on a fixed gear than on a freewheel bike, because once you get the drivetrain going it feels as if it "helps" you. All this may sound silly, but somehow I feel that things like this really help. Fixed gear bikes feel playful and very safe, which encourages me to try all this stuff that I would not normally try. Slowly but surely, I can tell that it improves my geared roadcycling skills - including the somewhat "duh" realisation that if I continuously pedal and feather the brakes instead of coasting, then I will feel more in control of my geared roadbike as well.

But all this talk of technique is probably beside the point. When it comes down to it, we do things that we enjoy and fixed gear is for me simply one of those things. I can't imagine not owning a bike like this. I begin to get fixed gear cravings if I don't ride one for more than a week. Luckily, that should not be a problem. 

Categories: fixed gear, Marianne, mercian, Moser

Hill Training: My Epic Semi-Fail

Over the summer, one of our local bicycle clubs runs what's officially known as the (In)famous Wednesday Night Hill Ride: a loop "encompassing the gnarliest hills in the Boston Metro area." Of course the route does not belong to them and lots of local cyclists who want to cram some serious hills into a relatively short ride use it to train on their own time, particularly racers and randonneurs. Back in July Somervillain began riding this route with a small group as practice for the D2R2 and invited me to join. At the time the very notion was laughable. Me, on the Infamous Hill Route? The women's paceline rides were hilly enough for me, and those were described by the same bicycle club as "mostly flat" (ha!).

But definitions of "hills" are subjective. Fast forward a few months, and mine too had changed. Having gone on a handful of rides with some strong local cyclists, I even developed a new fondness for hills and no longer outright hated them. So when Somervillain suggested the two of us try the Hill Route before the snow arrived, it suddenly seemed like a great idea. What can I say? I am human, I got cocky.

Things started off innocently enough. My level of excitement was almost festive. Finally, I was going to do "real" hills, like the "real" roadies. I managed to get organised and dragged myself out of the house to meet Somervillain at an ungodly morning hour. The temperature was blessedly mild in the high 30s. The sun arose picturesquely over the local Dunkin Donuts parking lot as we convened in front of it on our trusty steeds: he on his '80s Trek racing bike, I on my Moser. It was going to be a great ride! A nice 30 mile ride with some hills in the middle. As we took off, I had a smile on my face (hint: it did not last).

Let me tell you about the Hill Training Route. The part with the proper hills is a 12 mile loop and the elevation profile looks like this. But no technical description or chart can communicate the subjective experience of this ride. The build-up was uninspiring, as we cycled along some ugly main roads with fast suburban traffic. After about 10 miles of that, we turned onto a narrow residential street and began the first climb up a small mountain. The climb began suddenly, and, being out of sight from the main road, there were no visual cues that allowed me to psychologically prepare for it. We turned the corner, and bang! - the very turn itself was already the beginning of a steep, twisty hill. The narrow road wound around the mountain instead of going directly up it, so there was no way to see what was around the bend. Would it get steeper or let up a bit? And how much longer to the top? Not knowing this drained my self-confidence and increased my anxiety tenfold. In addition, there were potholes the size of craters, and I had to zig-zag gingerly around them as I climbed.

My bicycle is geared fairly high (52x39t in the front and 12-26t in the rear), but still I did not expect to max out my gears quite so early on. Click-click-click! Click! And I was done. From that point onward there was no spinning, only pushing, and I still had most of the hill ahead of me. So I pushed on the pedals and heaved myself forward in jolts.

Promptly, my body began to rebel. A pain shot up straight to my right temple, so intense that it clouded my vision. I had a strong urge to throw up. My leg muscles felt as if someone was injecting them with acid. Somervillain was way up ahead of me and around the next bend. I felt intense shame at being so hopelessly terrible at this, even after all the rides I've done to build up to it. I did not see how I could possibly keep going at this rate, and only a stupid, primitive sense of pride kept me pushing. Thoughts such as "Do not stop the bike!" and "Like hell you're going to walk!" were the only things circulating in my otherwise empty mind.

At the top I felt nothing. No elation, no sense of accomplishment. Maybe some anger at my naivite ("You needed to do this, did you? Racers describe this ride as "infamous" and you decided this meant it was suitable for you?"), but otherwise nothing. I drank water and looked around blankly for Somervillain. Somehow I'd managed to lose him. Could he have taken a different side street to descend? I cycled around the maze of streets along the side of the mountain, climbing some smaller hills for no reason other than to keep warm. I was now shaking violently. Then it occurred to me that we both had phones. I phoned, he picked up immediately, we realised what had happened to separate us and agreed to meet back at the base of the hill. It was pretty apparent to me that I could not continue the ride, and he could hear it in my voice as well. I cycled down to meet him with my head hung low and my face a deep crimson.

I am not entirely sure how we ended up repeating the climb (yes, you read that correctly). I think it may have started out as a suggestion in jest. But long story short, we climbed the same hill again. Oddly it went easier the second time around, despite my utter sense of depletion. Maybe knowing what to expect made it easier. Once again I maxed out my gears and pushed myself up in jolts the whole way, but with a clearer sense of when to expect an end to the hellish ordeal. In the last stretch, my breaths were coming out in audible heaves: Hee! Haw! Not unlike the sound of a tortured donkey. And then again it was over. At the top we stopped in a parking lot behind a small, shabby water tower. I tried to eat a piece of an energy bar, but nearly threw it up. I did drink more water and kept that down. My hands were trembling. We agreed that we were done for now: descend carefully, then back to Somerville. Two difficult climbs was not so bad given my lack of experience.

Cycling home, we transitioned to the Minuteman Trail and enjoyed the glorious sunshine. We chatted casually about this and that and began to contemplate where would be the best place to stop for coffee.

And then I opened my mouth and said: "You know what? I am not tired anymore. This always happens, I begin to feel more energetic at the end of a ride."

And he said: "Oh yeah? Do you feel like going back and doing the last climb of the route then? We have time before I need to be at work."

And I said... Well, what could I say. I couldn't exactly back out of it at that point! So we rode to Arlington Heights for the last climb.

This climb was very different and I am so glad I did it. It was a big, open road that went straight up instead of winding, and I could see exactly how far it was to the top. It was a steep climb of about a mile and again I maxed out my gears fairly early on, but somehow it was just a more rewarding experience. This road had nice scenery and a more pleasant atmosphere; I just felt better riding there despite the same horrible pain in my legs and the same shortness of breath. Seeing that I had about a mile of this ahead of me, I somehow "settled into" the climb and relaxed. The entire time I was thinking "Oh my God, am I actually... enjoying this?" Somervillain was way ahead of me of course, so I had no illusions about my speed. When he stopped at the top and turned around to check how I was doing, I gave a thumbs up and smiled.

Upon reaching the top, I was delighted by the sight of a beautiful stone water tower surrounded by a small park. I had never been here before, and it's always nice to discover a new scenic spot. Suddenly, everything began to seem okay, even funny. It wasn't so bad. I really should have done the middle two climbs of the route instead of bailing so early on. To make me feel better, Somervillain pointed out that we'd really done more like 3 out of 4 climbs, since we did the first one twice. Plus we'd cycled 30 miles over all. Let's call it a modified route. After taking some pictures, we descended down a monstrous hill with a view of the Boston skyline, climbed another short but steep hill, and then cycled home for real with a quick coffee before parting ways.

On my way home I stopped by the Co-Habitant's office to say hello. He laughed and said I was incoherent, clearly still coming down from a post-cycling high ("and then... and then... there was a TOWER! And I almost gave up, but... tower!")

Sigh. I guess I should be grateful that even in my 30s I can enjoy the little things. I am pretty terrible at this roadcycling stuff, especially hills. But God, I love it anyway. We'll be doing this ride again. And thank you, Somervillain!

Categories: bike friends, Moser, roadcycling

Just When I Thought I Was Out...

I had come to terms with my road cycling days being over for the season. The Northeast Bicycle Club women's rides ended with the summer. I no longer had a fast roadbike in my possession. The days grew short, reducing precious daylight hours. And it snowed in October. I was content fitting in a quick fixed gear ride here and there. Soon winter would start in earnest and take that away from me as well. And I was okay with that, I thought; I was ready.

But boy, was I lying to myself. Putting together the Moser this late in the Fall, I planned to take it on a couple of test rides, then put it on the trainer. But the bike's dynamite handling snapped me out of my "waiting for winter" stupor and made me want to ride, ride, ride. Somehow I found the time despite the limited daylight, and still I wanted more.

I knew that the Ride Studio Cafe had recently started offering a weekly Women's Ride, which they planned to continue for as long as the weather permitted. Their mixed gender rides have a reputation for being tougher than described, so I never worked up the courage to join those over the summer. Would the women's rides be more accessible? I was nervous, but ultimately felt that I had no choice: my bike was demanding to go. Can't argue with a bike. 

I arrived early to have some coffee and take a break from riding to the ride itself. A few minutes later another woman walked in. Gosh, she looked familiar. We said hello and she introduced herself as Pamela. I realised that she was Pamela Blalock - a rather famous New England cyclist, who has done Paris-Brest-Paris and cycled up Mt. Washington multiple times. Suddenly I had doubts that I belonged on this ride. But I tried to keep calm, curiosity overcoming my fear of riding with serious cyclists. 

It helped that I already knew the ride leader, Patria (shown here as Wonderwoman on Halloween). A strong cyclist with a road racing background, she also has a talent for putting people at ease - handy when dealing with neurotics like me. Two other women arrived, making it five of us in total. Shrugging off the morning chill, we set off on a very similar route to the one I had gotten accustomed to on the NEBC paceline rides. The ride itself however, was entirely different. 

For one thing, it was not a paceline ride but more of a social ride. We rode in pairs or clusters and talked the entire time, as opposed to cycling in a tight single-file procession while listening to the leader's instructions. I am unaccustomed to (and fearful of!) this more social kind of group ride, but got used to it fairly quickly. I noticed that I am a lot more comfortable riding side by side with another cyclist in close proximity than I used to be. Our abilities were all over the spectrum, which kept the pace of the ride manageable. Each of our bikes was different as well: steel, titanium, aluminum and carbon fiber were all represented, as were different type of shifter setups.

The funny thing is that I don't have much of a memory of the ride itself, since all of it was spent in conversation. The miles rolled by quickly and the weather was ridiculously gorgeous for the first day of December. In the end I wanted more, which is always a good note on which to end an activity. I am now debating whether to attempt the RSC mixed gender ride, or to leave well enough alone and stick to the women's rides.

I have an annoying tendency to get overexcited about things that I enjoy doing, and I know I am setting myself up for a terrific let-down if I get all roadcycling-crazy again and then bang, it starts snowing. But gosh, I can't help it - I want to ride! 

Categories: bike friends, Italian bicycles, Moser, roadcycling

Moser 2.0 - a Vintage Racing Bike with Modern Components

I have been riding my "new" Francesco Moser for a couple of weeks now and wanted to share my impressions. This is the same frame that I rode last year as a fixed gear conversion, then sold, then bought back and rebuilt as a geared roabike with modern components. Since the summer, I have been vigorously shopping around for a road/racing bike for 2012. The Moser resurrection is an experiment to determine whether it is feasible to refurbish a vintage steel racing frame for this purpose without putting myself at a disadvantage in comparison to cyclists riding modern bikes. 

The Italian frame was built in 1978 and raced in Austria throughout the 1980s. Through an interesting coincidence, I happen to know who the framebuilder was, but that is another story. The frame is lugged steel and allegedly Columbus tubing. Whether "tretubi" or something nicer I do not know; there are no decals. The lugs are pointy with elegant cutouts. Chromed fork crown, dropouts and seat stay caps. I have not been able to find this exact model in a Moser catalogue; something is always different. As I understand it, Moser frames were handmade in small batches and the framebuilders would sometimes get creative with individual frames. This could be one of those.  

The current incarnation of the bicycle includes an older Campagnolo Vento wheelset. Retired by the previous owner, the wheels have got quite a few miles on them, but are in good shape.  

Campagnolo Record 9-speed drivertrain and shifters, circa 1999.  

The crankset is 52/39t with 175mm crankarms. Not ideal in the long run, but at least it will allow me to try the bike. MKS Stream pedals and Power Grips as usual. 

From my spare parts, the bike is fitted with an 11cm Nitto Technomic Delux stem and 42cm Nitto Noodle handlebars. White Fizik tape. Cateye computer with a cadence reader. Just to be silly, I finished the handlebar tape with thin strips of multi-coloured electrical tape, to match the "champion" bands on the frame. 

I bought a set of Campagnolo Veloce brake calipers and used the 700Cx23mm Michelin Krylion tires that I had on another bike earlier. 

The saddle is a new generation Selle Anatomica Titanico (with cro-moly rails), on loan from the manufacturer. I will be comparing my impressions of this model to those of the previous version. 

The bicycle is a 52cm frame with a 53cm top tube (closer to 52.5cm). Right now it is set up with an 11cm stem, handlebars 1cm below the saddle, and the saddle positioned to emulate the seat tube angle with no setback. The positioning feels great, but would probably feel even better with the handlebars a bit lower and the stem a bit shorter (the current stem cannot be lowered, because there is no more space inside the headtube). The weight of the bike as shown here is 21lb. 

One reason I decided to get this frame back instead of looking for a different one, is that I remembered it having no toe overlap. Later I began to doubt myself, as several framebuilders told me that it might be impossible to make a road/racing frame this compact with no TCO. However, now the Moser is back and I was right: no toe overlap, as in none/zilch/zero/not-even-close. How did they do it? I will try to bring this bike to a framebuilder with one of those magic machines that can measure frames precisely; hopefully that will provide some answers. 

So, riding Moser 2.0 so far... I think I got exceptionally lucky with how well this frame suits me. I did not fully understand or appreciate what it was until now. With the long stem, the geared drivetrain, and the lightweight modern components, the bike feels as if it has been unshackled and allowed to soar. The small size feels just right, the forward positioning is exciting, and the lack of toe overlap eliminates my main source of anxiety with small frames. The bicycle feels lighter and easier to propel forward than other steel roadbikes I've tried, including modern ones. Judging by the numbers on the computer, my speed when cycling on my own is more or less identical to what it was when I was riding the Seven Axiom over the summer. I have not had a chance to go on a group ride yet, but will report on that once it happens. Acceleration feels effortless - that same "slingshot" feeling that, once experienced on a fast bike is hard to give up. The ride quality over bumps is better than I could have hoped for. 

It is impossible to make a direct comparison between the Moser and the Seven, because the latter was two sizes too big for me. But for someone of my ability, the bikes feel as if they are in the same ballpark, or at least from the same planet. The revamped Moser is the first roadbike I've tried aside from the Seven that I can see myself riding and being satisfied with.  

On a critical note, Moser 2.0 is a bit squirrely starting from a stop and at very slow speeds. My bike handling skills are good enough at this point to not consider that a problem, but I wouldn't have felt comfortable riding it set up this way last year. Also, the bottom bracket is so low that with the 175mm cranks there is pedal strike unless I am very careful to keep the inside pedal raised on turns. Can't decide whether this means that replacing the cranks is a priority (trade, anyone?), or whether it is an opportunity to improve my technique.

Aside from this, there is the question of whether it is a good idea to ride a well used, retired racing frame with well-used, retired 10-year-old components and wheels if I mean to ride strenuously and possibly competitively. While the Moser frame is photogenic from a distance, it is in rough shape: scrapes on the tubes, missing paint, rust on the chrome. There is also a slight bulge at the rear of the headtube that, as I understand it, happened during the manufacturing process (the frame has been checked for integrity and shows no structural problems). If I decide that I like the bike and don't need a new one, it might still be wise to replace the components with less worn ones and have the frame repainted. Or start from scratch and get a framebuilder to replicate the geometry and tubing. It's hard to say, and for now I am just  excited by how great Moser 2.0 feels compared to almost every single new bike I have considered buying so far. 

Knowing that some readers are interested in the outcome of this experiment, I want to note that I don't think it's as simple as buying any old vintage racing frame and putting modern components on it. But I do think I got lucky and ended up with something pretty cool that I would like to investigate further - with a big Thank You to all those who pushed me in this direction.

Categories: Italian bicycles, Moser, vintage

How I Got My Moser Back...

So I bought my Francesco Moser frame back from the person I sold it to, and built it up as a geared racing bike with modern components... despite having sworn off vintage roadbikes earlier. Yeah, I know. Allow me to provide some context:

I got this 1978 Moser racing frame in Vienna two summers ago, mailed it to myself in the US and built it up as a fixed gear. It rode nicely, but wasn't really suitable for fixed gear conversion with its low bottom bracket and resulting tendency toward pedal strike. Once I got my fixed gear-specific Mercian, I moved the components over and decided to sell the Moser. Building it up as a geared roadbike was not feasible: I would have had to spend a fortune on new wheels and components only to put them on an old steel frame, with no guarantee that I'd like the end result. It seemed wiser to buy a roadbike that I could test ride beforehand.

For what it's worth, I still believe that it is not financially practical for a "civilian" (i.e. a person who is neither a wrenching enthusiast with spare modern groupsets lying around, nor someone with bike industry connections), to take on a project like this. However, I have not really been a "civilian" for some time: I am interested in bikes not only for personal use, but also for the sake of learning and writing about them on Lovely Bicycle. And I do at this point have industry connections, as well as readers who are interested in making specific projects happen. All of these factors played a role here.

One of my readers offered to donate some of his used modern Campagnolo components and his old racing wheels if I were willing to experiment with a vintage racing frame. Around the same time, the person who bought the Moser from me built it up (with modern Shimano parts) and discovered that the bike felt too small for him. Luckily, I'd sold the frame locally. I saw this as a cue to buy it back. 

The second-hand components I received were a 9-speed Campagnolo Record drivertrain and levers circa (I believe) 1999 and a Campagnolo Vento wheelset of similar vintage. I already had the headset, stem, handlebars, tires and seatpost among my own spare parts. I bought a new bottom bracket, brake calipers, cable housing and bar tape at Harris Cyclery and they built up the bike for me. 

The Moser is now finished, and I've ridden it - but not as extensively as I'd like before writing about it. I am also waiting to put some finishing touches on the bike before I take pictures. Not sure what I will do with this bicycle in the long run. The frame is 33 years old and was raced for years by the original owner. The drivetrain and wheelset are around 10 years old and well-used. Even if my impressions of the reborn bike are positive, I have concerns about frame/component failure and will need to think about that aspect more carefully. But it is certainly informative to compare this bicycle's handling to the modern roadbikes I have been trying over this past summer and fall. Let's just say I am surprised. 

I am glad to have the Moser back; in a number of ways it is an even more unique bicycle than I thought. I hope to share my impressions in the coming week and fingers crossed that it doesn't start snowing in the meantime. Stay tuned, and a huge thank you to everyone who's helped me with this project! 

Categories: DIY, Italian bicycles, Moser, roadcycling, vintage