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

The Bicycle-Friendly Workplace

There is a range of opinions among cyclists about what constitutes a bicycle-friendly workplace. Some consider indoor bike parking a must. Others are concerned with shower facilities. Others still feel that bike to work schemes are crucial. More than anything, our ideas of a bike-friendly workplace seem to depend on how we construe transportation cycling. 

For me personally, the most important thing about commuting is having a safe and comfortable route. As long as that is in place, I am pretty easy. At my last 9-5 job, the 4 mile riverside commute kept me happy. On arrival, I locked my bike to a pole. I brushed myself off in front of a mirror before facing co-workers. It did not occur to me to lament the lack of indoor bike parking, let alone to wish for showers at work. Once I transitioned to freelance and began to spend the day going from place to place, it made even less sense. "Hello, I'm here to meet about the XYZ project ...But first, do you have a shower I can use? I arrived by bicycle you see." 

Others have different priorities, which is understandable. Long, strenuous commutes involve challenges that I do not usually face. Likewise with finding all-day bike parking in unsafe locations.

From an employer's perspective, the question is which priorities it makes the most sense to cater to. Is it the employer's responsibility to offer indoor parking? Many bicycle commuters say yes. Others feel it is the cyclist's responsibility to choose a bike that can be stored outdoors. What about shower facilities? There are those who lobby for them. And there are those who feel that the idea of showers at work conflates transport with sport. 

Others believe that focusing on parking or showers is too narrow of an approach. What about calling for employers to open up shop in bike-friendly locations? What about travel compensation, tax incentives, bike share memberships, and the like? Or maybe a different paradigm altogether: What if neighbourhood employers join forces to sponsor bike lanes (and street plowing in winter) within an X mile radius? 

Budgets are finite, and often employers get mixed messages as far as what cyclists are looking for. The bike-friendly workplace is a concept worth exploring more thoroughly. 

Categories: infrastructure, transportation options

Neato! Nice Porter You Got There...

For those of us who spend more time reading and communicating about bikes on the internet than in person, sometimes we go years before hearing bike terms uttered out loud. And so we form our own pronunciation, discovering only later that it might not match the way others pronounce the same words. Largely this is because so many bicycle words are foreign in origin. Even if we know the original language, it is not clear whether the common pronunciation matches it or has been distorted.

I remember the first bike word I had to adjust from the way I said it mentally was panniers. When I first started seeing this term I assumed stress on the second syllable (rhymes with veneers) and found the anglified stress on the first syllable jarring (I still can't get over that the English will pronounce ballet as "bally"). But I switched early on, and now PAN-iers sounds perfectly normal - though I still pronounce it the other way when referring to the French skirt hoops.

With other words, I cannot switch over. At some point I realised that many people pronounce porteur as "porter." Porter bike. Porter bars. Porter rack. What? It's porteur, rhymes with connoisseur!

Likewise, I have heard randonneur bikes called random-ners.

And I have heard decalleur pronounced as deCAY-ler.

English speakers generally pronounce mixte as mixtee, not "meext" as in the original French. Although I notice that some - not knowing French but wishing to pronounce it in what they believe to be the correct way - say mix-TAY, as if the French word had an accent aigu at the end (mixté). I have always said it the anglicised way, just because "meext" sounds strange to me as a noun.

Then there are the Japanese manufacturers. In my head, Tange sounded like the first part of the word "tangible," and I was pretty sure I'd heard it said that way. Later I started hearing "tahn-gay."

And I've always mentally pronounced Nitto like "neato," later surprised to hear bike shop mechanics pronouncing it to rhyme with ditto. They in turn found my way amusing. "Really, neato? I guess they are kinda neat-oh components!"

Dia Compe seems to be a free for all. I have heard dee-yah-coump, dee-yah-coum-pay and Diacom.

Of course all of this is more entertaining than anything. Languages get mixed and terminology evolves; there is not necessarily a "correct" way to pronounce any of this stuff. Though I am still not sure about dynamo... Stress on the first syllable or the second?

Categories: bicycle industry, silliness

Can Stop, Will Stop: TRP Mini-V Brakes

I have embarked on a long term test ride of a Honey cyclocross bike, similar to the one I rode in the Kearsarge Klassic last summer. When asked about component preferences on the demo bike, one thing I requested was stronger brakes. I had remarkably poor stopping power with the cantilever brakes on the bike I'd borrowed earlier, and I generally have not had good luck with cantis. I described these problems to Honey and we decided to try v-brakes. They suggested the TRP CX8.4 "mini-vs." 

The TRP CX8.4 linerar pull brakes were designed for maximum stopping power on cyclocross bikes. Unlike full sized v-brakes, they were also designed to work with integrated road levers (this particular model works best with Campagnolo and SRAM) without requiring an adapter - reducing bulk, weight and complexity. These brakes have a number of features to recommend them for cyclocross racing, but having no experience with that side of things I will stick to describing them in the context of "just riding."

Under my weak grip, the TRPs feel reassuringly powerful. Those with strong hands could in fact find this problematic, but for me it is a welcome change from having to worry about stopping a fat-tire roadbike with cantis at the bottom of a hill. This is the first time I have used v-brakes on such a bike, and the quality of the braking does feel different from centerpulls and cantilevers. I have to apply pressure differently to regulate exactly how much I want to brake, but it didn't take long to train my hands to "understand." When attempting to slow down at high speeds, the braking is not harsh or jerky, but it is stronger than typical - so it helps to have a gentle touch, or else to use only one finger on the lever. For harder braking, there is a luxurious, modulation-friendly margin before coming to a full stop that I find especially helpful. In the past, I have had to get creative in order to stop on downhills during unpaved rides, and I've even employed my foot as an auxilliary brake on a couple of occasions. The TRPs are at their best precisely in those situations. 

I have ridden the bike only a couple of times so far, but our winter conditions have allowed me to immediately try it on snow and slush. Getting the rims slushy did reduce braking power, but there was so much of it to begin with that it remained manageable. Basically, with the mini-vs the bike rides with slush-clogged rims like it did with dry rims when it had cantis. 

The Honey cross is set up with a carbon fiber fork, and I have not detected any judder with the TRP CX8.4s. These brakes easily clear the 700Cx35mm tires currently on the bike, and look like they could fit a fender. My understanding is they will not clear a 650B x 42mm tire; for that full sized v-brakes may be required. 

With an MSRP of $149 per set, the TRP CX8.4 brakes seem like an excellent and accessible option for those seeking extra braking power on a roadbike with canti/v bosses. As I get the opportunity to try other brakes worth mentioning, I will continue the "can stop, will stop" series (See also: Paul Racer centerpull brakes).

Categories: can stop will stop, product reviews

Positively Biketastic

When I look back at 2012 (I know it's been a while, but I needed time to take it all in!) I remember it as the year when I started to notice a lot of positive changes in the cycling world around me. Positive changes not only in the widening selection of transport bikes available in local shops and not only in the public perception of bicycling, but also in the increasing amount of rapport, cooperation and even overlap between different "camps" of bicyclists. And I think this latter point is just as important as the others. We cyclists can be tribal and divisive; we can be each other's harshest, cruelest critics. But if we insist on identifying within rigid parameters and lashing out against each other's choice of bike, attire, and riding style, how can we hope for positive changes for cyclists as a group? 

When my cycling club, the Ride Studio Cafe, began to blur the lines between the randonneuring and racing cultures, I remember it felt as if a paradigm shift was taking place. They threw a big party, where cyclists of different stripes interacted with each other with a degree of enthusiasm that showed a genuine eagerness. Dynamo lighting, racks, and wool were discussed. Unexpected common interests were found. It was truly an exciting thing to be witnessing. 

At this same party, I finally met Maureen Bruno Roy, a Massachusetts-based professional cyclocross racer. In her off time Mo leads a regular life, and part of that regular life involves riding her pink mixte for transportation. For me, seeing Mo so happy and casual on her city bike was an encouraging moment: I had not encountered an athlete-cyclist outside of Europe before who saw value and usefulness in such bicycles. But to Mo the value is pretty clear, and she credits her attitude to her time racing in Belgium. "There were these Dutch bikes, and I rode them to get around when I wasn't racing; it was great!" 

Around the same time, a local man named Jeff Palter got himself a Brompton folding bike and began commuting on it, posting excitedly on Twitter about how much he enjoyed that. If you're outside New England that name might not mean anything to you, but Mr. Palter happens to be the CEO of the Northeast Velodrome and the owner of Cycle Loft - one of the biggest roadie shops around. CycleLoft is also the main sponsor of the Northeast Bicycle Club - the largest local racing club and the very club that offers the "infamous" paceline rides that so divided my readership two summers ago. Until recently, it would have been difficult to imagine anyone associated with this camp entertaining the idea of riding around on anything but a racing bike with a backpack. I was more than a little surprised when Jeff approached me about sponsorship, explaining that CycleLoft was expanding into the city bike market. 

"Looks like the war is over," said a local cyclist when I shared this news with her. I guess sometimes, with all the insults flung about, it can indeed feel like a war - especially when some are described as "riding tanks" and others as being "weekend warriors." With a chuckle, I pictured an army of speeding Cervelos clashing with an army of menacingly rolling Workcycles (incidentally - a Dutch bike company founded by an American, who got his start at Fat City). 

Some time in December, I was approached by Bicycling Magazine and invited to write a weekly online column about "city bikes and gear." I was initially skeptical about what they had in mind, but it seemed pretty straightforward: They wanted to expand their coverage beyond racing, to encourage people to commute by bike, introducing them to a variety of bikes and accessories for the purpose. I agreed to write the column. It's a short-term contract and I may not be the one doing it in the long run, but I hope to give it a running start. Or rather, a re-start: Historically, such coverage is not new for Bicycling. A 1978 copy I found of the magazine includes articles such as "Choosing a Three-Speed Commuting Bike" and "Road Test: the Bickerton Folding Bicycle." These things are cyclical. Hopefully the current cycle, with its interest in transportation and city bikes, will be around for a while. 

A few days ago I read a story in the New York Times about a man who, a couple of times a week, commutes from the suburbs outside New York City to his office in Manhattan on his racing bike. It's a 40 mile ride and he uses the milage for training. He does it year round, sometimes in snow. I thought it was a cool story, especially after the cyclist himself provided additional details on Velocipede Salon. Then today I read a story in Atlantic Cities in response to it, about ordinary New Yorkers commuting. The author mentions that some readers criticised the NYT piece for "alienating [ordinary people] who might want to ride to work," but I am glad the author herself did not go that route. Instead she gave examples of some interesting New Yorkers who ride and urged cyclists to unite in promoting their shared interests. 

For those of us who have been cycling in major North American cities over the past few years, it is hard not to notice that things are changing. Now more than ever, I feel there is room for everyone who loves to be on a bike to promote their style of riding without criticising others in the process. Whether 4 miles or 40, whether in a business suit or a skin suit, whether on a cheap or expensive bike, bottom line is: It's all positively biketastic. The more we understand that, the better off we will be.

Categories: bicycle industry, transportation options, urban cycling

A Day in Primary Colours

Red curtains. They are there for practical purposes - welding screens to protect the eyes from the intense glare of the arc. Brazing happens on one side of the shop, welding on the other. In the middle is this vinyl semi-transparent barrier. But the red backdrop spreads an aura around the room, bathing it in a mysterious, yet energising light. I see the light flicker dimly behind it, and somehow the universe seems to make sense.

Against the vast expanse of red, five adults open long cardboard boxes with the hushed anticipation of polite children on Christmas morning. Inside the boxes are steel tubes wrapped in newspaper. The unraveling is almost formally festive.

The blue work shirt. My grandfather worked in a machine shop and wore one well into his old age. In the '90s, the boys I went to high school with wore the same shirts because it was fashionable. They played in garage bands and dressed like mechanics, never having been near a wrench, which used to annoy me. Now some of them wear blue work shirts unironically, having indeed become mechanics or machinists. So it goes.

Blue buckets full of gloves, cotton and leather. I burned myself three times building my first frame. Once by picking up a piece of scrap metal after it had just been hole-sawed off. Another time by grabbing the frame too soon after it had been torch-dried post washing. And the third time by accidentally brushing the hop tip of a filler rod against my cheek. Who knows, sometimes the gloves help. Other times they are a hazard and can get stuck in a machine. 

Yellow packaging, labels, warning signs, equipment decals. It is noticeable, even in a sea of other colours. See me, read me, peel me.  

Yellow booklets, dusty yellow machines. I am too easily enticed to visit the other side of the curtain. 

More pictures. 

Categories: framebuilding, I'm building a frame, stories

Salty Roads and Salty Air

The past few days in Boston have been interesting. A snow storm was expected on Tuesday morning, and several towns pre-emptively salted the roads in anticipation. It did snow a bit, but a big storm never came. What did come was a stretch of severely cold, windy days. The resulting landscape has been one of the more bizarre sights I have ever seen along my commutes: white roads, white trails, white mist - all of it very much resembling snow, except that it's salt.

The overzealous road treatment has its benefits. Despite riding in sub-15°F temperatures in the suburbs after a mild snowfall, I never had to worry about sleek road surface conditions. It was wonderful actually: I had lots to do and my mobility was in no way impaired as it sometimes is on days like this. Even the trail along the Charles River was thoroughly ridable, which has been great for avoiding heavy traffic on the roads during rush hour.

Still, the drawbacks are impossible to ignore. The salting has been so extreme, that over the course of two days it's hurt my face, mouth and eyes. It isn't difficult to imagine what corrosive effects it must be having on vehicles, including bikes, and what damage it must be doing to the environment. Many locals have expressed concern over this, succinctly summarised on the Boston Streets website.

Boston Streets refers to the decision to salt roads as the “windshield perspective,” linking it to the assumption that "everyone gets around inside a glass-enclosed, climate-controlled vehicle" and believing that it shows "utter disregard for the pedestrians, bicyclists, dog-walkers, and water-drinkers among us." I am following this debate with interest, eager for an alternative yet effective solution. As a cyclist, I must admit that I have enjoyed the salted roads (and bike lanes and trails) for the increased mobility they have afforded me this winter, so it had not occurred to me to interpret the practice as car-centric. But I am concerned about the environmental and corrosive effects, as well as the possible harm to my health (what else do they mix with the salt, and is it good for me to be swallowing it every day?).

The real issue, as I see it, is that any city trying to make itself over as a "cycling city" - as Boston and other North American cities with harsh winter climates are doing - needs to have a plan not just for the warm months but also for the cold. Unfortunately, we do not. Boston removed the Hubway bike share stations in November, posting a "closed for the season" message on their website. The Charles River Trail is being plowed this winter not due to bike-friendly city policy, but to the sponsorship of New Balance (thanks guy), which is done mainly for the benefit of runners and joggers, not transportation cyclists.

I am conflicted about the salting of roads. I do not like to criticise unless I can offer an alternative solution, which in this case I cannot. Something to think about as I thaw my chapped, salt-burned face after this evening's travels. It's broodle out there.

Categories: winter cycling