I sawher picture in a magazine and it was instant girl crush. I had never seen a creature so beautiful: She was like a graceful, violent, dirty Snow White. "That's Maureen Bruno-Roy," I was told, "she's a professional cyclocross racer." Half a year later, I was sitting in her kitchen. "Mo" was making tea while talking about her massage therapy business and riding Dutch bikes for transportation in Belgium. "Racing..." she shook her head with a smile when I brought it up, as if the concept both amused and confused her. "I am grateful that I happen to be good at it, but it's not everything." She showed me her pink Shogun mixte, which she rides to work in her regular clothes. She spoke about how much she loves bicycle infrastructure. Later we looked over her fleet of sponsored, impeccably tuned racing bikes in the basement. "You are welcome to borrow one," she said, as if talking about lending me a sweater...
In between sips of coffee, I glanced up at the television screen with boredom, watching the race with unseeing eyes. A man in a zip-up sweater and a baseball cap glanced at me from the bar, then stood up and walked over to my table. He began to narrate the race in my ear as it unfolded, telling back stories about the riders and their behind-the-scenes dramas, then interrupting himself to describe what it was like to corner in the rain on a particular descent that was coming up, then interrupting himself again to speculate about the psychological state of the riders as they prepared to execute some maneuver I only vaguely understood. This was the 1989 World Cycling Championships race and he made it happen live, right in front of us. That was how I met the race announcerRichard Fries. Later I snapped some shots of him at the Providence Cyclocross Festival. I wonder whether he realised that in some way he was responsible for my being there...
When I started riding with the legendary
randonneusePamela Blalock, the thing that stunned me was that I never felt slow or inadequate. How could it be that I struggled to keep up with ordinary cyclists who were just slightly more experienced than me, and yet the Climbing Goddess and I seemed so effortlessly in sync? This was my first taste of a strange paradox: Riding with people who are way, way better than me is easier than riding with people who are just a little better...
For a brief portion of a group ride, my path once crossed with the awe-inspiring endurance racerJohn Bayley. He rode next to me in the tail end of the double line we formed as if it were the most normal thing in the world for the likes of him to be riding with the likes of me. He truly made me feel that it was. We entered a stretch of dirt road that was rutted out and iced over in spots. As we chatted, I saw that, side by side and at considerable speed, we were approaching a narrow ridge between two deep ruts that only one of our wheels could possibly fit through. Before I knew what was happening, he wiggled ever so subtly and I instinctively followed suit, and without breaking stride, we both ended up riding along that narrow ridge without crossing wheels or slipping off of it. I doubt John even remembers this, considering he just kept cycling and chatting blithely while it was happening. But the incident was etched into my mind. "So this is how you do it..."
As a rider, Emily surprised me with her psychic abilities. When we cycle on narrow roads with traffic, we will ride single file and she will go in the front. And when she does this, Emily somehow knows exactly what speed to maintain so that I am right behind her at all times. I want to go faster and suddenly she is pedaling more vigorously. I slow down a tad and so does she, as if anticipating my fluctuating energy levels. "But Emily, how do you do that?" She says that she can see me in the corner of her eye, but I don't buy it. I try this when I ride with others, and find it impossible. I never, ever know how fast to go when I'm in the front. I'll think that I am going at a consistent pace, but then I'll look over my shoulder and see that I lost people; I feel like a jerk. Some day I want to be psychic, like Emily...
I could not get over the wayPatriarode her racing bike. It was with the attitude of riding a beach cruiser. Easy-peasy, fun-fun-fun. We rode so close that our handlebars were almost touching and I hardly noticed. We talked, we laughed, we gossiped, and before I knew it we crested the hill that I thought I was too out of shape to tackle without disgracing myself.It was 35 degrees Fahrenheit.A group of men from another local club passed us going in the opposite direction. Feeling feisty, we waved at them exhuberantly and they yelled something in a cheerful tone before disappearing. When I mentioned my struggles with clipless pedals Patria reacted as if we were discussing fashion accessories. "Why don't you try the shoes I wear? You might like them better. And they come in this cute color..." A week later I was riding clipless. No practicing in the parking lot, no problems. Everything is easy with Patria...
When I first visited the Ride Studio Cafeover two years ago, there was a tall, boyish man working there, making coffee and sweeping floors. He made my Americano, and told me his name was Rob. I assumed he was the barista, and he did nothing to contradict this impression. We'd chat when I visited the shop. I thought he was nice. Some months later I asked the guy at the cash register whom to see about test-riding a Seven. He pointed to the barista. "Talk to him, that's the owner." "The owner of what?" I asked. "The owner of Seven Cycles. And the Ride Studio Cafe."
It's been almost a year now since I formally joined my cycling club. It is not my intent to promote them here, but only to thank them. It is through this club that I've met all the people described here, who have opened up my mind, challenged my pre-conceived notions and expanded my point of view. Some people help you and you feel grateful, indebted. Others help you and you don't even know it. A person who can do that has achieved a state of grace.
It is so nice to be back on the road again!
Lately I have been spotting more and more cargo bikes and trikes "in the wild" in the Boston Metro area. Bakfiets, Christiania, Nihola, Xtracycle, Yuba Mundo, Gazelle, all sorts of neat models. Interestingly, almost none of them could have been purchased locally, because no local bike shops carry them. This seems to be based on the bizarre notion held by local bike stores and importers/distributors, that Boston would not make a good market for cargo bikes. I have personally heard this rhetoric many times from various members of the bicycle industry: Cargo bikes in Boston? Oh no, there is no market. Terrible place for cycling. Awful drivers, dense car traffic, narrow streets with no room for bike lanes, rude people. It's a good place for fixies and such, but cargo bikes? No way.
But clearly there is a lag between how Boston is perceived by the bicycle industry and what is actually happening here - especially in the lively suburbs (more like boroughs) of Cambridge and Somerville. Beacon Street - a main road that acts as a border between the two - features parade-like processions of cyclists during morning and evening rush hour of almost Copenhagenesque proportions. Women in skirts, men in smart blazers, child seats strapped to rear racks, baskets on the handlebars, enormous panniers, and even - that's right - cargo bikes.
At this point you might be wondering why I care. In fact, why do I have reviews of cargo bikes here at all (see my test ride reports of the Bakfiets, Larry vs Harry Bullitt, Christiania and the Maderna Cycle Truck)? I don't have children and I don't really have enough stuff to transport on a regular basis to need a dedicated cargo bike. So why the interest?
There was an old dusty bicycle lying around in my parents' garage when I was growing up. I had nearly forgotten it until they mentioned it recently. I asked my father to take some photos, not expecting anything special. Well, these are the photos he sent!
I don't want to get my hopes up, but from the pictures the bicycle appears to be restorable. Look at that beautiful head badge!
The brakes and the 3-speed gear shift (which I hope is the original Sturmey-Archer) look like they might be functional.
The chain ring with the herons design! Of course the rusted out chain will need to be replaced.
Decals are largely intact. The model can be identified as the Lady's Sports. Going by the information here, I am thinking it is late 60's-early'70s.
Saddle is the Brooks B72, most likely original.
Behold my beloved Raleigh DL-1 Lady Tourist! Lovely as usual, is she not?
Ah, but some things about her are not at all "as usual". Can you tell that the lady has had major surgery? Probably not, and that's the beauty of it; her classic roadster features have been left intact.
But oh, what's this here? Why yes, it's a Sturmey-Archer S3C coaster brake hub! And with it, the bicycle has been magically transformed to an unmatched state of fabulousity.
For those unfamiliar with the saga: The Raleigh DL-1 is basically the holy grail of vintage "Roadsters," particularly the lady's loop frame. These bicycles are elegant, comfortable and surprisingly fast. There is only one tragic drawback: They were made with rod brakes, which is a braking system that is not the greatest even in dry weather, and completely ineffective in the rain. I got my DL-1 last summer and it has been my preferred bicycle ever since, despite the poor braking power. Still, I hoped that someday a conversion to a more effective braking system would make it perfect. Imagine my elation that this day has come!
If you are wondering how we did this, I will first say that it is definitely a "don't try this at home" project unless you are mechanically inclined, or have a spouse who is. But to summarise: You will need to get a 3-speed coaster brake hub and to have a new wheel built around it. You cannot put the coaster brake hub in the old wheel, because these hubs were designed for a different number of spokes. If you are planning to keep the original rod brakes (which you have to, unless you want to replace the handlebars), the new wheel needs to have a 28" rod-brake rim. These are distinct from regular rims, in that they have a special notch for the rod brake pads to grip. Yellow Jersey sells these rims, and they can also build you the wheel if you send them the coaster brake hub.
And that is what we did: I got the hub from an acquaintance who happened to have one (and who sent this monogrammed reaction arm clamp to go with it!), and had the wheel built by Yellow Jersey. Upon receiving the new wheel in the mail, we stayed up half the night attaching it to the bike. There are various little nuances that made it, shall we say, challenging - but it is doable. I will post a more detailed account on Boston Retro Wheelmen soon; for now I still have PTSD from the process. But let's be frank: A mild case of PTSD is a small sacrifice for the miracle of a secret coaster brake on a classic rod-brake roadster!
After the coaster-brake wheel installation, I spent the following day riding the bike everywhere; it was difficult to get me off of it! I tried hills, high-traffic routes, bridges - all kinds of situation where the brakes would be put to the test. I even got stuck in the pouring rain on my way home from downtown Boston - which was not intentional, but perfectly timed for testing the brakes in wet weather. If you've been reading this blog, you know I like coaster brakes, and this one performs fantastically. Upon back-pedaling, it comes to a soft (non-jolting) but reliable stop, making hand braking completely unnecessary, other than for preventing the bicycle from rolling when stopped at a traffic light. One funny thing about this hub, is that it is very-very loud: a steady ticking noise when pedaling, amplified tenfold when coasting. Well, at least they can hear me approach!
It did not take me long to get used to the DL-1 having a coaster brake and to adapt my braking patterns accordingly. With the rod brakes, I used to plan my stops in advance and I feared rain. Now I am free from worrying about such things and can fully enjoy this wonderful bicycle. There are other ways of installing effective brakes on the DL-1, like attaching the rods to a rollerbrake hub or replacing the whole rod system with standard brakes and conventional handlebars. But I chose the coaster brake, both because I like the system in itself, and because it allowed me to preserve everything about this bicycle exactly as it was - making it my very own Coaster Roadster.
A couple of days ago I replaced the seatpost on my Rivendell Sam Hillborne with one that has zero setback, and the change has been interesting. Before I go any further, I will warn you that this is a continuation of the long top tube post. So if that one gave you a headache, please stop reading now and save your sanity! Or, continue at your own risk.
The other factor influenced by a seatpost's setback is the reach from saddle to handlebars. The more setback a seatpost has, the further the saddle moves away from the handlebars. Here it is worth noting that bicycle fit experts typically warn against messing with seatpost setback and saddle positioning in order to alter reach. Instead it is advised that one's saddle position preference should be fixed in relation to the bottom bracket. At least that is my understanding.
Originally the bike was built up with a seatpost with generous setback, making the effective seat tube angle even slacker than its natural 71.5°. Eventually I replaced it with a seatpost that had only minimal setback, but even that did not feel as if I were sufficiently forward. I was reluctant to go with a zero-setback seatpost, because everyone I spoke to acted horrified by the idea. "Zero setback? What are you trying to do, turn it into a racing bike?" However, after the "long top tube" post I came to the conclusion that a zero setback seatpost is the most obvious solution. Far from making the bike "racy," it would simply continue the frame's already slack seat tube angle without slackening it further. Or, I could move the saddle a tiny bit forward and make the effective seat tube angle a rather normal 73° (as it is on my other two bicycles with drop bars). So, that is exactly what I did.
Exit Glacier. So close, yet so far away.
Two miles from the glacier the road was barricaded and a Ranger was directing traffic to the nearby trail parking lot. She said that there had been a tremendous amount of rain the past month over the glacier. It had gotten over 12 inches of rain on each of two different days! The glacier deposits silt in the river and as water comes down it carves new channels to get through that silt.
The Alaska Railroad runs between the highway and Turnagain Arm.
To the Southeast.
And the Southwest.
And the West.
Fantastic!
Today we arrived in Springfield VT. This is the same town that the Simpson movie did it's premiere in. Pretty cool, huh? We left yesterday, stopped at the Lake Timothy Outdoor World and got here rather late tonight.
