Trolling Around in 650B

While Surly offers a range of practical, attractive, versatile bikes that riders everywhere love, none of them I find particularly appealing. Instead, I seem to be drawn to their weirdest and most extreme creations: their fat tired monsters. So naturally, when I saw Susan's new Surly Troll, I was delighted. Sure, it wasn't a Pugsley, but it was nonetheless glorious. 

The Troll is a 26" wheel steel mountain bike with clearances for 2.7" tires. Built with eyelets for fenders and racks, it can also be set up as a commuter or utility bike, as well as an off-road touring bike. 

Susan built it up for all of the above, converting it to 650B while she was at it.

 

The tires are of course the 42mm Grand Bois Hetres. I realise now that I forgot to ask why Susan chose this wheel size, so normal it has become around these parts.

The Troll frame can be set up with cantilever/v-brakes or disc brakes - though I think the 650B conversion leaves only the latter option. 

The Troll features interesting dropouts that I have not seen before. They are horizontal and resemble track ends, yet made with a derailleur hanger, making it possible to build the bike up with either hub or derailleur gearing. 

Susan has the bike outfitted with fenders, the Tubus Fly rear rack,

the slightly swept back Metropolis handlebars,

dynamo lighting,

and one of those crazy super-bright headlights that point down to illuminate trails at night, powered by a battery pack.

There is something about the way this bike is set up that seriously excites me. I look at it, and I want to do "that" kind of riding, whatever that is. An overnight tour along pitch black dirt trails maybe?

Susan encouraged me to try the bike, and I did. The brief test ride proved to be surprisingly informative. The bike rode smoother than I expected. Very nice in fact. The Troll is not a lightweight bike, and it is not fast on the road. But it felt maneuverable in tight spaces and was not as difficult uphill as I expected. The stepover of the frame felt lower in practice than the images suggest, making it easy to hop off the bike without having to swing my leg over the back (I should note that I rode the bike with the saddle about an inch higher than shown here). There was no hint of toe overlap even with the 650B wheels. The disc brakes worked well, though I tried them in a very limited capacity.

The one drawback of this bike for me was the high bottom bracket (40mm BB drop on the frame), which made it difficult to get the saddle height where I wanted it. I like to be able to put a toe down when stopping without getting off the saddle, but the frame geometry + 650B conversion made that challenging to accomplish with full leg extension. However, I think that with the 26" wheels the bike was originally designed for, it should be okay. I could also try converting the Surly Ogre (a 700C version of the Troll) to 650B. Its 68mm BB drop should be just right for getting the saddle where I like it. 

But of course I am just aimlessly fantasising here. I understand very little about mountain bikes and even less about their monster variations (still trying to figure out what exactly a suspension-corrected fork is). Still, I think that one excellent use for a machine like this could be as a winter bike. The Troll is not quite as extreme as a Pugsley, but neither is it as bulky. If fitted with 26" wheels and fat studded tires it could be just the thing for snowy Boston winters. With the frame priced at $500 MSRP, some strategic budget component choices could make for a fun and functional build.

Susan purchased her Troll frame from Harris Cyclery, where she works as a custom fit specialist and lead salesperson. Naturally, she built it up herself, with parts she "had lying around." I hope she enjoys her cool new bike, and I thank her for letting me try it!

Side by Side

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Face Behind Bikeyface

It's not every day that one meets a cartoon character, let alone a bicycling cartoon character. And so imagine my delight upon learning that I live just minutes from one. Allow me to introduce: Bikeyface!

A sure cure for self-seriousness, Bikeyface is a weekly comic strip that offers a parallel universe where all the weird stuff we imagine but don't say out loud materialises in cartoon form. Rich in visual detail, manic undertones, and good old fashioned perversity, Bikeyface has charmed the bicycle blogging universe with unexpected gems like "Office Shower Politics",  "Men in Skirts" and "Winter Beard." 

The heroine of Bikeyface describes herself as a "common commuter" type - who wears "non-spandex" clothing, "inappropriate cycling footwear," a hounstooth patterned helmet, and a "bikey smile" as she pedals around greater Boston on her bike, Marlene Dietrich.

Occasionally she will don a cycling-themed accessory, such as this gear pendant (okay, so they're the wrong type of gears)...

...or a beard/muschachio balaclava, to compensate for her lack of facial hair on chilly winter commutes.

But who is Bikeyface really, the woman behind the cartoon and the knitted facial hair?

Well, all right: She is Bekka. She is a painter with a non-painterly dayjob, to which she commutes by bike. She lives in Somerville, MA. Before that she lived in LA and rode her bike there. And she is from New England originally. 

The bike she currently rides is a tiny Surly Cross-Check in her favourite colour, which she got last summer and loves. It is called "Marlene Dietrich" because it is sultry and feminine, yet with a tomboyish edge. Of course. Other bikes she has owned have included an Electra Amsterdam and a couple of hybrids, but Marlene is the preferred ride - used for both commuting and long distance recreational cycling.

Of all the people I've met so far via the cycling blog connection, meeting Bekka has been my biggest "the worlds collide" type of experience. Besides living walking distance from one another, we discovered that we have some uncanny non-bikey things in common and spend more time talking about those than we do about cycling. It sometimes feels as if we are interacting as two different sets of people: the real us, with our bikey alter egos hovering in the background. We've talked a little about identity - how we both come across differently on our blogs than we do in person, and how people react to that difference when they meet us. Whereas Bikeyface is a perky, mischievous and boisterous character, in person Bekka is subtle and analytical, and rather difficult to characterise. Visually, she is striking: A soft and delicate face with enormous, unusually shaped blue eyes - the type of face that belongs in a 1930s French film and not so much in a 21st century bike cartoon. I would certainly like to paint her some time, as herself.

In the meantime, I will continue to enjoy Bikeyface and invite you to do the same. The strip normally comes out every Wednesday morning and is certain to brighten up your day. 

Saltwater and Rust

Both this summer and in previous years we've brought our bikes to the coast, we've noticed rust forming alarmingly quickly - even with the bicycles kept indoors. The chain is usually the first to rust, with the various bolts that hold components together shortly following suit. Even hardy powdercoated frames are not immune to this: We noticed rust spots on the Co-Habitant's pale blue Surly at the end of our first week here. I am curious how those who live next to salt water year-round take care of their bicycles. If the rate of rust formation we are seeing is any indication, it seems that bikes kept near salt water are liable to become rust buckets in no time.

On the other hand, I recall that my parents - who live around the corner from a marina - have always kept bikes in the garage, which was left open more often than not. These included my old mountain bike - which was stored in this manner for 15 years before I retrieved it, and the vintage Raleigh we later restored - which must have been kept there for over 20 years. Neither of these bikes show any more rust than is typical for their age. Could it be that bicycles were somehow rust-proofed in the past, and that this is no longer done? Or does rust formation slow down after an initially vigorous attack? Insights from coastal dwellers appreciated!

Within My Grasp, Yet Out of Reach: the Evasive Century Ride

Once a cyclist begins to ride longer distances, it is inevitable that they will hear the siren call of the Century - the 100 mile ride. While 100 miles is as arbitrary a number as any, it has an undeniable cachet to it. It is a three digit number, a round number, and impressive number. Put simply, 100 miles is unambiguously "a lot." It is often considered a marker of seriousness when it comes to long-distance cycling.

Although I never set it as a goal for myself to complete a century, to tell the truth I thought that surely I would have done it by now. Distances of 30, 40 and 50 miles were so easy for me almost from the start, that I assumed 100 miles would inevitably follow. However, it is now my 3rd summer of cycling and somehow I still have not managed it - 65 miles being the longest distance I've covered so far in one go. One obstacle has been lack of time. As someone who gets annoyed when others tell me they don't have time to cycle, I can't believe I am using the same excuse. So maybe I should rephrase: My time management skills have been inadequate. I try to set a day aside for a century ride, but something inevitably comes up to make it impossible. Shorter rides are easier in that sense, because they do not require taking an entire day off. The other obstacle has been finding places to ride to. While the countryside outside Boston offers excellent cycling, I am having a hard time mapping out routes that exceed 65 miles and are still within my comfort zone when it comes to car traffic and elevation changes. And doing repeat loops just to cycle 100 miles is not appealing.

While on Cape Cod last summer, I thought that surely a century would finally be completed. Our plan was to gradually work up to it, but in the end we did it too gradually: Just after the 65 mile ride I got sick, and by the time I felt better it was time to go home. This summer, the inability to reach the 100 mile mark is becoming almost comical. Now that we are on Cape Ann - with both the time to do it and the perfect location - weather and other factors have intervened to foil our plans repeatedly. 50 miles along the coast has been the longest we have managed so far, and with half our stay over and more storms predicted for this week, it's possible that a century is simply not in the cards during this trip either.

It is becoming clear that, while I am accustomed to fitting rides into my life "organically," the century may necessitate a different approach. If I am serious, then I will need more careful planning, stronger determination, and a willingness to do it in poor weather conditions or along a route that I am not entirely comfortable with. But frankly, that just doesn't seem like much fun. When I finally find the time to do a 100 mile ride on my terms, it will be fantastic. But to approach it as a grimly goal-oriented undertaking for the sake of saying that I've done a century would defeat the purpose. As far as endurance goes, I am fairly confident that I can handle the mileage, so it's just a matter of an opportune situation presenting itself. I am sure someday it will.