Can Your Bike Withstand the Outdoors?

A couple of days ago I forgot my bike lock and dragged the big steel bicycle I was riding that day, complete with a pannier full of art supplies, up 3 flights of stairs to my studio. While doable, it was certainly an ordeal - not even the weight alone, but the awkwardness and inconvenience of carrying something so bulky up a long, winding staircase. I cannot imagine doing this on a daily basis, and normally my transportation bikes spend the day locked up outside.

That is why it surprised me to learn that quite a few cyclists I know apparently do this several times every day and will not leave their bike outdoors for anything beyond a quick errand. Their concern is not safety, but durability. One acquaintance tells me that leaving her bicycle outside - not overnight, but during a normal workday - leads to rust and mechanical issues, particularly if it happens to rain. Another cyclist complained that after half a year of leaving her new Dutch-style bicycle outdoors 9-5 on a daily basis, the bike is now in such bad shape that the shop she took it to for a cleanup and tune-up told her not to bother and just buy a new one. It sounds absurd, but I have more anecdotes in the same vein, all involving bikes purchased in the past 2-3 years: It seems that many of the new wave "city bikes" - unlike the European originals that inspired them - were not actually designed to withstand the outdoors.

Of the current-production bikes I've owned or had on loan, I have kept a Pashley, a Bella Ciao, a Pilen, an Urbana, and a Paper Bicycle outdoors for extensive periods of time and have observed no damage as a result of this practice. Same with the vintage bikes I've owned - my Gazelle and the Steyr I rode in Austria both stayed outside overnight and were none the worse for wear. So what did these manufacturers do differently, and is it possible to do the same to other bikes aftermarket? I suppose a frame can be sprayed with some rust-proof solvent, but what about the components?

Finally, I am curious to know what you feel is realistic to expect from a new transportation bike, as far as its outdoor durability. Should it be rated for being left outside for a couple of hours at a time? A standard 9-5 workday? Overnight storage? Your own experiences with specific bikes are welcome.

New Perspectives on Hemlines

In a local clothing shop yesterday I overheard a conversation between two young women.

Young Woman 1: This dress is cute, but I totally can't wear it on my bike (lifts hem and stretches it to show how narrow it is).

Young Woman 2: Yeah it sucks when a skirt is too tight and I can't bike in it. I'm like always looking for A-lines and pleats now.

YM1: Yeah I know! Or pants.

YM2: Nah I'm not really into pants. Oh but the stretchy miniskirts are good too.

YM1: Oh yeah! I just saw some over there (points at some shelves and they walk off in that direction).

Eavesdropping on this exchange, a few things went through my mind. First, that cycling really is becoming an ordinary thing in our area. These young women - the way they dressed, carried themselves, talked - did not stand out from other women their age; there was nothing identifying them as part of a cycling "subculture." And yet both used bikes to get around. That is like kind of cool, right?

Second, to me this conversation underscores the fact that women's attire - more so than men's - really does call for "bikability" considerations. There are some in the cycle chic camp who argue that we can cycle in absolutely all of our ordinary clothing, and that to look for cycling-specific features is to overly complicate things. But in my experience, even the most stylish women on bikes do not always feel that way. Skirts can be too narrow, trousers can be too constricting, shoes can be slippery, even blouses and jackets can pull at the shoulder seams making cycling uncomfortable (a co-worker in Vienna once tore her top this way cycling to work). Much of this has to do with the fact that apparel designed for women is more form-fitting than that designed for men; there is simply less leeway and less give. Women's apparel also tends to be made of more delicate, flimsier fabrics, more prone to wear and tear. For most women I know who ride a bike, cycling-specific considerations play an important role in their wardrobe selection even if their clothing appears "ordinary" (i.e. not cycling-specific) to the outside observer.

But the more interesting question for me, is that of whether and how clothing manufacturers will respond to cycling-specific demands of their target market, as this increasingly becomes a popular concern. I am not talking about designing cycling-specific lines of clothing; that would be unnecessary. But how about simply designating existing articles of clothing as "bike friendly" when appropriate? Particularly when it comes to online shopping, I think that could be such a useful feature that I am surprised no one has done it yet. When ordinary women start to choose hemlines with cycling in mind, this could be the beginning of something interesting.

Passion and Mediocrity

Prior to my interest in bicycles, I seldom seriously pursued activities that I wasn't good at. Mostly this was because I did not enjoy them. I always hated mathematics, chemistry and physics in school - subjects I was bad at, while I loved literature, history and art - subjects I was good at. Playing most sports was living hell, whereas performing in plays was exhilarating. Once in a while it would happen that I was good at something, but did not enjoy it: chess, tennis, leadership roles, jobs involving sales. But it almost never happened that I enjoyed something I was bad at. Doing something that we cannot do well is discouraging, embarrassing, and literally painful in the case of sports. Even if we like the idea of the activity, it is difficult to enjoy actually performing it, when all it does is highlight our weaknesses and make us experience failure again and again.

As a teenager I fell in love with Chopin, and got it into my head that I had to learn how to play piano or life was not worth living. So I learned. For a late starter (I began at age 15), I wasn't bad. My teacher said that my ability to communicate emotion was ahead of my technique - which she meant as encouragement, since in her view the emotional part was more difficult. But I was terribly disappointed in myself. The more I practiced, the more aware I became of my technical limitations. I was sloppy, my fingers were not flexible enough, and I could not grasp music theory. For my 2nd year recital my teacher agreed to help me prepare two beautiful pieces that I had no business playing: Chopin's Prelude in E-minor and Tschaikovsky's Autumn. As far as "serious" music, these pieces are not difficult. But still to play them well required experience I did not have. I made no blatant mistakes. But I just didn't have sufficient control over my hands for the more nuanced passages and as I played in the recital I felt this acutely. The parents in the audience were thoroughly impressed by my performance. But after the recital one of the guest instructors approached and shook his finger at me: "Young lady, that was beautiful. But you should not be playing those pieces until your technique improves." And as he spoke, I knew that I did not have it in me: that I would never improve beyond mediocrity and would never be truly good enough for these pieces, no matter how much I slaved over the keyboard. I could use my ability to play "emotionally" to mask poor technique, but I would feel like a fraud. It was painful to be aware of this and my personality was not strong enough to withstand it. I quit piano within a year and took this as a lesson to save my energy for things I could truly excel at. Piano would never be one of them.

And, of course, neither would skating. No matter how much I loved watching the figure skaters on television and wished to be one of them in my younger years, it seemed stupid to waste my time to pursue something where my natural ability was so far below average. Yet now something's changed, and I find myself putting my self-esteem to the test at local skating rinks - shuffling around like an injured duckling as others around me execute graceful spins, jumps, and other displays of skill. The Co-Habitant tried to skate a week ago, and turned out to be a natural. Others too get on the ice for the first time in their lives, and after a half hour they are already gliding easily. Clearly I am a special case of ineptitude when it comes to skating. I am trying to decide how this makes me feel, and oddly it's not too bad. I am not even embarrassed, I just accept it. I also accept that even if I throw myself into learning how to skate with an obsessive passion, the end result of my dedication and hard work will be mediocrity, at best. Maybe I am older now and my ego can take it, because knowing this feels okay: I want to learn how to glide smoothly, how to turn, and how to stop without falling, and maybe if I am lucky, to eventually execute a leg lift like the girl in the picture. Those are my meager aspirations, and somehow they seem worthwhile despite the fact that I will likely have to work 10 times as hard as "normal" people to achieve them. 

Watching the figure skaters practice at the Skating Club of Boston reminds me of my first visit to the Velodrome in Vienna. Seeing how unattainable the track cyclists' level of skill was for someone like me did not put me off road and fixed gear cycling. I realised then that I saw value in pursuing cycling as a sport independent of my ability to succeed in it. It was good for my character to have to work hard at something I loved, even if it yielded disappointing results, rather than to accept praise for being "talented" at things I was naturally good at. Talent, after all, is not an achievement - it is simply there. 

My pursuit of cycling over the past 3 years - starting from a place where I didn't know how to turn other than using the handlebars and needed to have both feet flat on the ground while in the saddle - has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. This may seem ludicrous to those who know me in person in light of my other "achievements" and life experiences. Nevertheless, my passion for this activity that I am at best mediocre at, has taught me more about myself than I probably wanted to know. It broke down some of my defenses that kept me from understanding my true goals in life and it has made me more comfortable with myself overall.

It is hard to say whether, generally speaking, there is value in pursuing things we are bad at. Sure, we can make the argument that facing one's limitations and attempting to work through them - whether successfully or not - builds character. But we can also make the argument that it is more worthwhile to pursue the things we are good at, in the hopes of achieving true excellence - which could benefit not only ourselves, but in some cases society as a whole. In the end it is about the individual's life journey. During mine I found that passion and mediocrity can co-exist.  

Schwinn Exerciser

Hello and Welcome,
A few months ago while out hunting for bikes I ran across this very pristine Schwinn Exerciser. It appeared to be in working condition although it did sound and feel like it needed the chain and crank lubricated. The boots I was wearing prevented me from giving it a proper test ride. I had been keeping my eye out for an exercise bike or trainer for this winter season. I really had something more modern in mind. But this vintage Schwinn seemed just perfect for a guy who loves old bikes.

Above: At this point I have wiped it down with Armor All Cleaning Wipes. I do not use the Detailing Wipes that leave everything shiny. "and slippery" The the Orange Citrus wipes are great for greasy stuff. But I have found the normal Armor-All Cleaning Wipes work great and leave everything clean. I know the "super shiny look" on vinyl looks great to some. But to me it just looks fake.
I also lightly lubricated the chain with White-Lightning "Easy Lube". It is a clear light oil, similar to sewing machine oil or electric motor lubricant. Because it is used indoors, I wiped the excess lubricant off the chain with a paper towel.

Above: Check-out the vintage Schwinn cable driven speedometer and odometer. How is that for high-tech? And the adjustable resistance that you actually have to turn by hand. It takes real discipline to turn it up and down to simulate hills when your feeling like a nice flat ride. And the wind-up timer with a bell. You can`t beat that with a stick! Over the course of a lifetime this thing will pay for itself in battery savings alone...ltms

Above: And how can you have anything but love for the vertical oval Schwinn Head Badge? It is a little blurry (I`m a lousy photographer) but under Schwinn it says Chicago.

Above: Resistance is provided by this center-pull brake with felt pads. Before I try to explain how it works, It might be better if I take another picture. (see below)

Above: You may need to click on the pic (enlarge) to see the diagram.
The resistance adjustment knob is basically just a threaded rod.
It goes through the dash to a hanger/bracket with a nut threaded on the end underneath the bracket. The nut can not spin because it is cradled under the bracket. So when the knob is turned the threaded rod pulls the bracket/hanger up wards. The bracket has a notch on each end which hold the top of each of the two actuator rods in place. The lower end of the rods are attached to the caliper where the straddle cable would normally attach. So when you turn the knob it raises the bracket which pulls the 2 rods upwards. As the rods are raised they actuate the brake caliper. Pretty cool stuff. There is a spring on each rod connector and one just above the nut under the bracket. These are for when the tension is released the rods are held in place and noise is reduced.

Above: After I rode the Exerciser several times I noticed there was a grind in the one piece crank. And it sounded really bad. The old Schwinn crank is not super smooth anyway or I would have probably noticed it sooner. Above is the cause of that grind. I don`t think I have ever found a crank or bottom bracket bearing in this bad of shape.

Above: This is the threaded screw-on race/cap from the same drive side bearings. It has some bad scoring and a few tiny chunks missing. I call it a race/cup because on a old one piece crank it is both. I popped a new bearing into the cage cleaned them as best as I could "indoors" then re-packed them with grease. I found an identical race/cap in the shop, so I replaced it. The left side bearings and cups were in much better shape. So they got wiped-off and re-packed with fresh grease. It was very cold the night I did this. When the weather warms-up I`ll take it apart in the shop and replace all the bearings and any cups or races that are worn out.

Above: I was hearing a lot of cable noise. So after oiling the cable housing did not help, it was time to try something else. Removing the speedometer cable is a lot like removing a t.v. coax cable. The only difference is the ends of the cable are not round. After removing the cable from the housing at the speedometer end. I lightly rubbed it down with grease and replaced it. The only problem was I was still getting lots of mechanical noise from the speedometer.

Above: Like I always say "never throw any good vintage take-offs away". I just happened to have a spare in the shop.

Above: After removing the cable at the speedometer end, this unit is simple to remove. There is a thin lock-nut type nut that you remove from the bottom of the speedometer. (same place the cable hooks-up)

Above: Once you remove the thin nut this bracket just slides right off the post. It might even fall off. Then the speedometer can be easily be removed from the dash.

Above: I am removing the rubber bezel trim for use on the replacement speedometer.
I will not polish the replacement until I see if it works. Not a big deal since the install is so simple. As it turned out the replacement was seized up. Oh brother!

Above: I am putting a few drops of the same "Easy Lube" into the threaded cable receiver post.

I will also put a drop or two of oil into this hole on the side of the threaded cable receiver post. Now I will try to free it up.

Above: A very small slotted screwdriver just fits into the slot where the cable goes. Now I just turn it by hand for a few minutes. Then just when I was beginning to think that this was not going to work it loosened up all of the sudden!

Above: This time I am sure it is going to work. So I went ahead and polished the housing with Turtle-Wax "Chrome-Polish / Rust Remover". Just a little bit on a paper towel did the trick. And yes I know the shop bathroom looks a little messy. But I have seen it look much worse than that! (:

Above: All polished, installed and ready for testing. Not very scientific, but here is how I tested it. I know at my cruising pace I ride 9 miles in 30 min. So I run the odometer up to 333.0 miles. Now I set the timer and look at the clock and ride at my cruising pace for 30 min. Nine miles right on the nose. Sweet!

Above: Here is something I thought was kind of cool. This Exerciser has a lock-ring and a fixed cog. So if you ever see one of these in the trash, you might want to salvage it just for those parts alone.

Above: Here is the Schwinn Exerciser with the new Avenir Ergo grips installed. After a while the cable started making noise again. I guess it is just plain wore out. So I took a zip tie and moved the cable to a different position and zip tied it to the frame and that did the trick. I searched the shop that night in the cold and found three speedometers complete. Except one was missing one part. Yup you guessed it, I did not save the cable for this one!

Well fellow bicycle lovers and cog heads. I think that about covers it for now.
Until next time Please RIDE SAFE and Remember to Always Sauvetage, de restauration et de recyclage!

PS Please do not respond in French because I do not speak it. I thought, It might to nice to say "Rescue, Restore and Recycle" in a different language once in a while.
Cheers, Hugh

A Give-Away for Valentine's Day

Roses are red and so is this bike
- which could soon be yours if you like!
For on this coming Valentine's day
it shall be promptly given away.

"What is this bike?" you might inquire,
"with its bright red frame and old-fashioned tire?"
In reply I guide you to
this Bobbin Bicycles Birdie review.

The lovely loop frame and the lugs
will surely elicit passionate hugs.
And as the cupid's arrow nears
you've got the Sturmey Archer gears.
For yourself or for your darling
a shiny red bike is oh so charming!

From England it traveled by land and by sea
to Boston's Harris Cyclery,
and from thence it shall be sent
to that person for whom it is meant.

For a chance this bike to recieve
a velo-Valentine you must conceive,
in the US you must reside,
and by the guidelines below abide:

-------------------------------------------
Guidelines for the Bobbin Birdie Give-Away:

Submission Procedure: Create and submit a bicycle-themed Valentine. Your Valentine can be intended for a real person, for a fictional or hypothetical person, for your bicycle, for any other bicycle, or for anyone or anything really (except for me) - as long as it is in some way bicycle themed. The Valentine may consist of text and/or image (no video, no audio). If your Valentine is text only, please submit it directly in the comments here. If your Valentine is an image, upload it and post the link in the comments (if you have nowhere to upload it to, email it to "filigreevelo[at]yahoo[dot]com" with the subject "Velo-Valentine").  Be sure to include your email address in the comment when submitting your Valentine. One submission per person please.

Submission deadline is Thursday, February 9th 2012, 11:59pm Pacific time. Recipient will be announced on Valentine's Day (February 14th, 2012).

Eligibility: Entrants must reside in the continental USA. Entrants may be of any gender, and may be getting the bicycle for themselves or for a loved one. Entrants should be readily reachable via email. This bicycle is best suited for persons 5'3" - 5'8", please use your judgment.

Selection criteria: Selection will be made on the basis of the Valentine, assuming that eligibility criteria are met. Any Valentine submitted may be publicly viewable and there will be reader input in the selection process.

This give-away is made possible via Forth Floor Distribution - the North American distributor of Bobbin Bicycles. Many thanks to them for donating this beautiful bike, and to everyone for taking part!

Freeze / Thaw

This winter I get the distinct feeling that nature is playing games with me. Constantly changing rhythm, it refuses to let me get comfortable, to allow me to settle down into a season-specific "mode" of cycling. With temperatures below 20°F one day and above 45°F the next, I feel as if I am trying to dance while the DJ alternates between the oldies and thrash metal. My movements are awkward and a migraine is just around the corner.

But if that's how nature wants to play it, so be it, and there is always a silver lining to be found. For instance, my familiarity with mud has certainly grown. There are so many different kinds: liquid mud, viscous mud, mud that looks like packed dirt but behaves like quicksand, mud with a thin crust of ice over it, mud of a slushy-like frozen consistency throughout, and mud that has frozen in big solid ripples. I've been trying to ride on mud in all of these different conditions as part of a radical campaign to improve my balance, and thanks to the freeze/thaw weather I can experience a complete mud menu over the course of a single week. 

Much less endearing is the unpredictable appearance of ice patches that the changes in weather are causing. The last time I went out on my roadbike, I saw black ice on the country roads that pretty much convinced me it was trainer time despite the lack of snow. Going downhill and hitting a patch like that, I am pretty sure there is nothing I could do to prevent a fall. 

With February under way, at least the winter season is more than half over. My ideal conditions for the rest of it would be a couple of beautiful snowfalls (my birthday is later this month and I love snow on my birthday), followed by a swift and complete thaw in the first week of March. Well, I can dream. In the meantime, nature continues the freeze / thaw game and I do my best to keep up. Every winter is different, and I am glad to have a record of this one as I do of the previous two. 

The Emptiness of Those Lives...

Over the weekend I read The Rider by Tim Krabbé.

This is not a review of the book, but I will summarise it as a stream of consciousness account of what goes through a middle aged cyclist's mind as he takes part in an amateur bicycle race in southern France in 1978. I did not know very much about The Rider before reading it, which is probably why I was caught off guard by its apparently famous opening:

"Hot and overcast. I take my gear out of the car and put my bike together. Tourists and locals are watching from sidewalk cafes. Non-racers. The emptiness of those lives shocks me."

After reading these lines, I shut the book and put it away. Needing something to do, I immediately busied myself with making tea. Was I annoyed? offended? angry? and by whom or what - the writer himself or by the feeling he managed to communicate so successfully?

I review the scene in my mind's eye. So here are the racers, getting ready. And here are some spectators who came to support them. I imagine that one is a school teacher, another an emergency room doctor, another a firefighter, another a war veteran, and so on and so forth. And then I replay it: "The emptiness of those lives shocks me."

In the course of my own life, I've been fortunate enough to live and work in the midst of various "important" people - researchers dedicated to finding treatments for diseases, rescue workers in war-torn countries, politicians who have the power to effect change with a single signature, and fine artists whose work is exhibited in the worlds' greatest museums. Not once have I heard any of them refer to others' lives as empty. If anything, they often question their own choices and complain that their work is not as fulfilling in reality as they had imagined it would be. I've also known serious athletes, who, while passionate about their sport, were not consumed by it to the exclusion of all else. But I do know roadcyclists whose thoughts reflect that famous sentence in The Rider. In fact I've met quite a few.

Amateur bicycle racers and racing aspirants have a reputation for arrogance, for "taking themselves too seriously" and truly believing that cycling is the most important and fulfilling thing in the world. For some time now this has fascinated me. Is it posturing? Are those drawn to roadcyling seeking to construct a life narrative of hardship and heroism in the absence of true hardship in their lives (poverty, illness, war, rape, ethnic persecution)? or, in some cases to distract from that hardship? Or is it the other way around - that something about cycling (what? a chemical it releases?) has such a powerful effect on the body and mind that it eclipses all else and turns perfectly sane people into crazed Ahabs on two wheels? 

My curiosity about this is mingled with fear, and ultimately that is probably what made me put down The Rider after the opening passage. Sometimes, when I spend too much time on my roadbike I can feel myself lose perspective in a way I've never lost it before. Not in terms of arrogance per se - for someone with my abilities there is nothing to be arrogant about. But, I don't know, it's as if I can sense the existence of another dimension that I am not sure I want to cross into. Some cyclists I know, they are already there and they are "different." The narrator of The Rider (which I've since read to completion) is certainly there, and he describes that state in devastating detail.