On some good advice that these days of winter are for relaxing a bit and letting the muscles grow supple, I spent last week riding to the Metro, taking the Red Line downtown, and reading my book for a little while in the morning and evening. I figured it wouldn’t be as frantic over the holidays as I remembered, and it wasn’t. In fact, it was pleasant enough that I’m doing it again this week and reading some more. This is the first time in two years I’ve taken the Metro to work instead of riding my bike. It feels a little bit like I lost something, but that something might have been a chip off my shoulder rather than anything important.

Other than that… what’s to say? It’s not that life hasn’t been interesting, after all the holidays have been a swarm of family and friends and events and food, the kids astonish and nourish me in new ways just about every day, there’s some bike and non-bike projects in the works, and there’s no shortage of current events to ponder aloud (or at least to ignite vehement reactions). I just haven’t been interested in writing about any of it.

Unless I become suddenly inspired, this right here’s the year-end wrap-up:

• I should finish the year with about 4050 miles and 131035 not-feet* of climbing.
• Number of rides is a less precise stat, because I’ll list a ride like “Farmers’ Market and Back” as a single ride, whereas the ride to work and the ride home are two, both because they’re broken up by a whole day of sitting and because it makes it easier to use different routes. The number of rides I’ve recorded for the year stands at 558, but there’s a few days left yet to cross 560 for the year.
• My weekly averages came out to approximately 10 3/4 rides a week for 77 miles and change. The biggest week was 189 miles and a little over 11400 not-feet of climbing, which was the week in August of the Livestrong Challenge. That month was my biggest with almost 625 miles.
• I put over 1575 delightful miles on Cledus (the Long Haul Trucker) this year, which is pretty cool. Cooler still was that Nigel, my Trek 930 based Xtracycle, racked up 1925 miles, and logged over 61k not-feet to Cledus’ 54k. No wonder I had to replace his Fat Franks this year, they got all wore out from kicking everyone’s ass all the time.
• I’m not sure how many miles we put on the car this year, but I’m almost positive it was well under 4k miles. Gotta verify it, but that’ll definitely deserve its own toast on New Year’s Eve.

* MapMyRide.com’s elevation statistics are horribly inaccurate, I’m certain that a year’s worth of GPS data from the same rides would yield an entirely different number. But since MMR was my method of measure throughout the year, it is at least consistently inaccurate. Or it’s not.

So there’s the tale of the tape. Pretty good year! I don’t know if I’ll beat those numbers next year, or if I’ll keep numbers for that matter, but this was worth doing and knowing. Even though it sure felt like I was piling on miles before and during the century, those only accounted for 500-600 of the total. The vast majority of the miles I rode this year were just to work and back, with a regular ride to the market on Saturdays. Pity the cyclist that thinks of those miles as “junk”!

Other things to remember and be thankful for this year:

• I lost a good bike. I miss you, buddy.
• I gained a couple more. I love you all.
• The Bike Clinics at Mt. Pleasant Farmers’ Market (and then at Bloomingdale, 14th and U, and H St.) were incredibly successful this year, more than anyone could’ve guessed. Estimates indicate we may have helped as many as 800 people get their bikes back on the road, and that’s pretty darn cool.
• Every day my wife proves to me how smart I was to marry her, and my children demonstrate to me that there’s nothing that could have adequately prepared me for the experience of raising children.
• And then there’s y’all. Or yinz. Or youse guys. Whatever ya call yourselves, thanks for tuning in. I’d probably write this stuff down somewhere, and bookmark these Internet oddities, but it’s much more satisfying to talk to you than just to myself, and there’s less annoying reverb.

I think that’s enough to call it a year, don’t ya think? Feel free to drop a comment about something awesome or not so awesome that you did, or were just in the path of, this year. And when it gets close to midnight on Thursday night, when I raise a glass to the end of this year, consider it hoisted in your direction.

Cheers!

Twilight comes late enough to feel like summer, but the waning daylight is evident, and it’s dark when we put the kids to bed. The transition from summer to fall, however, hasn’t been so much a cross-fade as a knife-switch. It took a while for summer’s dog days to arrive, finally coming in August, but in the span of the last 3 days, it’s gone from sleeping-on-top-of-the-sheets hot to it’s-a-great-day-for-football mild. I half expected to come outside this morning, watch every leaf on our street turn red in thirty seconds, and crash to the sidewalk all at once.

This year’s three-month bivouac at the pool is winding down, and once again the last days inspire both panic and relief. The pool itself is a delight, but it’s the grounds and the community that keep us in its orbit all summer long. We let the kids off leash to run with their toddler cohort, cook on community grills while our kitchen remains cool and un-thrashed, get to enjoy a beer (and sometimes more than one), and mingle with our friends in a pleasant meadow. We don’t even have to arrange to meet anyone. I mean, where else are they gonna go?

On the other hand, it tends to dominate the season. In early June, The missus was frantically trying to get the kids and I out the door. I hesitated, looked back, expressed my need to do something about our unfit-for-habitation living room and said I’d meet them later. “What are you talking about?” she said in disbelief, “The pool’s open! We’ll clean in September! Let’s go!” So, in that sense, we’re looking forward to blowing the dust of our project list and seeing what else there is to do.

One big project did get off the ground, though. The Wife’s other gig has been kick-ass this season. We’ve been blessed with berries and peaches and bread and all sorts of delicious local produce. She also came into this season hell-bent to realize a vision, a bike clinic, staffed with volunteers, who’d teach people about bike maintainence, do some repairs, and generally encourage people to get their bikes on the road. I have to admit, I was skeptical that it could work (and leary of being sucked into it since I already take over the kids on Saturday mornings while she’s market-managing). But lo and behold, smart, motivated people jumped right in, got folks signed up, and the results have been stunning. I worked one Saturday with 2-4 other volunteers, and didn’t stop from the opening bell until an hour after market closed. We’d helped over 30 people tune their bikes, and several of those folks have turned around and become volunteers since then. Meanwhile, some enterprising yoots down ’round the Bloomingdale Farmers’ Market have started up their own bike clinic, which we stopped by on Sunday morning, and it was totally hoppin’.

I gotta say, I’d be proud just to know my wife if I wasn’t lucky enough to be married to her.

Cledus and I had an incredible summer together, logging over 1700 miles and climbing almost 60,000 feet since Memorial Day, bringing my totals for the first two-thirds of the year to over 3100 miles and over 100,000 feet of climbing. Our many miles together culminated in my first ever century, which was far and away the baddest-ass thing I’ve done this year, and raising money and riding for Team Fatty made it even more meaningful. I’ll likely do more centuries, but I’ll always regard that one with a special fondness.

So into fall we go. With school starting, children to transport, backpacks to haul, and layers to carry, the swift-strike of a commute I make on Cledus will be replaced most mornings with the happy rolling melody of Nigel’s fat, creamy tires chewing up bricks, asphalt, and gravel with gusto. To tell you the truth, it’s hard to be sad about the transition when they both put such a big grin on my face. And while I’ve certainly enjoyed racking up road miles, the completion of the big ride and the crisp shift in seasons will mark a return to a more balanced palette of adventures. I’m itchy to throw plastic at metal, which I mostly gave up for training, and longtail camping trips up the C&O are definitely in order now that mosquitoes are no longer part of the experience and there’s enough snap in the air to make the first cup of coffee extra awesome.

Speaking of longtail projects, we’ve convinced more of our friends to take the plunge! They asked what it would take to make it happen, I pointed them towards a beautiful mid-90’s Trek 930 being sold nearby, they wisely jumped on it and pulled the trigger on an Xtracycle kit. And, get this, I’ve got the green light to make an appointment with the powder coater to make the whole rig Taxicab Yellow. (I’m trying to track down checkerboard decals, too, let me know if you’ve got a line on ‘em.) It’s going to be beautiful, and hopefully we’ll get it on the road quickly so we can get them out on the trail sooner than later. They’re excited. I’m excited for ‘em.

All this makes it sounds as if I’m done with road miles. Not so! In fact, another transition is in store as we ride into autumn. I had to face the fact that it’s just not the time or place for me to own a kick-ass single-speed mountain bike. I don’t ride singletrack here, as much as I think I’d like to, so the 4one5 has been relegated to the occasional urban assault, which consists mostly of delighting myself with bunny hops off speed bumps and tearing up the neighbors’ lawns. It needs to be on real trails, wearing knobbies, eating dirt. Meanwhile, I’ve developed an itch for a real road bike. Nothing too fancy, mind ya, but something a little more lithe and a little less linebacker than the Cledus. We’ll have to see what happens.

There’s one more big sunny barbecue left before it’s time to get the long sleeves and hoodies out (or, in the case of my San Francisco brethren, to put them back and get ready for things to warm up). And then it’s harvest and costumes and turkeys and reindeer from there on out.

So whatcha got planned for the end of summer?

Magically zoomed and enhanced for a better look:

Rebbie thinks they look chunky, spoiling the otherwise lean look. She’s probably right, this version is made of 5/8″ thick copper pipe and 1×6 pine (as well as the handlebars from a derelict Razor scooter), so it’s definitely blockier than the rest of the bike. Also, I think a good portion of the back of the elevated platform, along the inside, could be cut away as well to get along better with the bag and lose some visual weight.

But this oughta suffice for the proving grounds. Rebbie took Ruby to the store this afternoon as a first test, the ride to school tomorrow morning is up next.

(more…)

On Sunday afternoon, I finished building the wheels, and mounted them. On Sunday night, after the kids were in bed, I started sorting through parts, and then figured I’d go ahead and throw on some of the easy ones and go to bed. At 3am, I’d installed the brakes and rotors, shifters and brake levers, derailleurs, and most of the cables. Monday afternoon I finished what was left, the only thing remaining was the back brake cable and housing. I figured I could take it for a little test spin without rear brakes.

Wow. It’s gorgeous, and it rides like a freaking dream.

Nigel out in the world for a test flight

Long brake cable and housing for the rear, a couple bottle cages, bags and deck, lights and a bell and we’ll be in business.

[Update]: Tandem brake cable was procured from the fine folks at City Bikes on the way home from work, bags and the deck are installed, lighting is in effect, bottle cages have been deployed. Now that you’ve seen Nigel “naked”, let’s have a look at ‘im dressed and on the way to work.

The Legendary Profile

Wow. That’s what I think when I look at him anyway. That rear deck will likely be replaced by the next iteration of the kid’s seat, the Double Deux. Until then, I like the way this looks just fine.

There was a point before this project started that I had a line on a ‘94 Trek 970, an orange-red lugged steel frame exactly like the one I owned back in the early 90’s, from a local bike shop. After a couple emails back and forth with the owner, he let me know that this particular bike was a collector’s item, and that I should be looking for a late-model utility grade bike to convert.

He was right, that bike is mint, and deserves to be either hung on a wall or ridden with the components it was born with. But still, a late-model utility grade bike? Yeah, no. I don’t think so.

The Vaunted Three Quarter

[Update Again]: Guess who just twittered Nigel!

The Internet sent me a big box yesterday. Once the kids were down, I unpacked this beautiful creature, did some inspection and a little grime-fighting, and put it back together. The serial number and components suggest it’s a 1996 Trek 970SHX, featuring a Shimano LX/XT drivetrain, RockShox Quadra 21R fork, and Trek System components (mostly made by Bontrager I believe). I did a quick photo shoot on the way into work this morning, take a look.

Gimme the left profile… thaaat’s it… perfect.

12 years old and It’s in almost-showroom condition. I think there’s some scratches on the decals, but other than that it’s pristine. I can’t wait to take it apart, clean off the little bit of road grime on it, and give it some fresh grease. It’s gonna shine.

Alright now show me the drive side… oh you know you got it goin’ on.

The 970’s an outstanding steel hardtail frame. This particular year isn’t as collectible as some of the others (like f’rinstance 1992, The last year of the lugged frame, with a 1-1/8″ threadless headset), but it’s still a great bike. Folks who bought it new typically paid between $1000-$1200 for it, and most of them give it 5 stars (or, in this case, chilis) after thousands of miles of riding. I feel like I walked up to the eBay craps table and hit a yo on the come out roll. One hundred sixteen dollars and fifty freaking cents, and eighty bucks to ship it. Win.

True Temper’s triple-butted OX III Comp tubing, lovingly welded in the U.S. of A.

The triple-butted True Temper OX III Comp tubing (comparable to Reynolds 853) is strong, light, durable, and has great ride characteristics. The steel was made in America, and the bike frame was made in the U.S. too. Waterloo, Wisconsin I believe. What’s more American than that?

XT Derailleur, little bit of road grime, otherwise perfect condition.

The drivetrain’s in near-perfect condition. The teeth are perfectly shaped, the chain’s in great shape, the cassette barely looks broken in. The XT rear derailleur looks like it’s been out of the box for less than a hundred miles, other than some dirt the finish is still newish. There’s not a single chip anywhere on the chrome of the front derailleur.

Not a scratch!

You can see a little bit of road grime on the chainstay from the degreasing I did this morning. Otherwise, not a scratch on it, no chainsuck scars, nothin’. Unbelievable. I’ve seen showroom demo bikes with more scars on the chainstay. The pads on the LX cantilever brakes look like LX metal refillable shoes, and I’m pretty sure the pads are original, and barely worn. The seat is a Bontrager Plus 10, it’s not bad, and I chuckle when I see “plus10″ on it, reminds me of “Dan Rather, plus three”.

Grip Shift X-Ray shifters, Trek rubber grips, Trek System bar ends by Bontrager

Even the grips don’t show any signs of wear or nicks or anything. The bar-ends are comfy and perfect, they have a few scratches on them from leaning on things, but no serious nicks from falls or hits. The rims need truing, but not much, and the hubs are in great shape. Oh, did I mention that it came with a cyclometer?

I was up until about 1:30 am last night putting it back together. This morning, I made a couple adjustments here and there, threw some Wellgo studded platform pedals on it and let it run the commute. The ride was outstanding, so much fun. I left the big-ass Psycho II offroad tires on it, so it’s kind of a tractor on the road, makes that whirring sound of pavement being eaten up by knobbies when it gets up to speed. But every time I left the road to climb a hill or cut across dirt or grass, the ride became Cadillac-esque, I mean just superb. And the steering is quick.

[Update]: Updates and modifications were made this weekend to civilize this beast a bit and dial it in:

• Trued both wheels and replaced the tractor-like Psycho II’s with WTB All Terrainasaurus tires, which have a smooth centerline but plenty of knobs to handle unpaved surfaces.
• Replaced the rock hard, taint wrecking Bontrager saddle with an oh-Lord-this-is-good WTB Laser V.
• Replaced the flat stem and bars with a higher rising Salsa stem and some CroMo riser bars to gain about 3 inches of height and give the bars some comfy rear sweep.
• Replaced the GripShift shifters with an old set of Deore XT 8-speed Rapidfire shifters.
• Replaced the stock DiaCompe brake levers with Deore XT two-finger brake levers.
• Replaced the old bar ends and rubber grips with new bar-ends and bar-tape.
• Replaced all the brake and shift cables, replaced housing where needed and re-greased all of it.

Getting to wrench on it for several hours was good for the bike and good for my soul in and of itself, but the improvements have been dramatic. I rode in this morning with a huge smile on my face. Not only is this thing happy to be eating up trails and meadows, and better behaved on pavement, but the cockpit improvements, riding position, saddle and tire upgrades all contributed to significantly increased yields of Woohoo!.

[Update Again]: Photo of Clovis with new cockpit, saddle, and tires. Steel springs to replace elastomers in the fork are on their way straight from the Internet. Neat.

Clovis, sporting upgrades

[Update Again Again]:

Out with the old…

Old rotten elastomer springs

…in with the new.

New awesome steel springs

Several weeks ago, while hunting down another item on eBay, I ran into an old lugged steel Trek 950 frame. It was just the right size at 19 inches, and was going cheap with several days left to go. I threw a couple bucks down on it and forgot about it until I got an email telling me I’d triumphed over my weak, cowardly opponents for only $41. As a bonus, it also came with a set of LX cranks, a RaceFace bottom bracket and an XT front derailleur. I’d been thinking about increasing the family’s cargo carrying capacity to two Xtracycles, and this seemed like a fine platform to make that happen.

It showed up needing more than just a little love. I haven’t figured out all the numbers stamped into the bottom bracket shell, but the serial number falls into the 1992 range. There’s also another set of numbers, that reads “930 20 B1 (something something)”. I’m assuming that means that I’m actually working on a 20 inch 1992 Trek 930. Additionally, the paint job was mostly what you’d expect from a couple cans of Krylon…

…except for that black flame job, edged in Sharpie! Bet ya didn’t expect that! It just looks fast layin’ on the carpet there, doesn’t it?

The fact remained that it’s a sweet, solid lugged steel frame with great geometry for what I had in mind, with a few dings here and there but mostly in good shape. So I got out the wetsand paper, and figured that bringing it back to bare metal, painting it proper, and getting that frame correct would be a spiritual journey worth taking. I’d pour my love and sweat and some choice swear words into it, sanding and soaking, until it gleamed naked and strong. And I did for about three days, starting with some really noxious chemical stripping agent and then taking the rest down to the steel.

The first day’s sanding, a roughly 5 hour session, saw the top tube and down tube emerge quickly. The head tube and lugs took more time and effort, but came out looking lovely. Unfortunately, the painted head tube badge (painted! dude! 5 minutes to mask it off! C’mon!) didn’t survive the sanding. But seeing the brazing at the joints come out from behind the paint residue was a joyful experience.

The next morning, I woke up with the outside edge of my right thumb (which had been my sanding block for getting into the nooks and crannies and lug edges) raw, bruised, and beaten. External pressure from the frame pushing up, combined with internal pressure from my thumbnail’s edge pushing down, left it sore and swollen. Given the injury, it seemed obvious to me that the thing to do was to keep sanding. I got most of the front triangle on that run, focused on nailing the bottom bracket, and did pretty well.

But the cable stops, grouped in threes at the front and back of the top tube, mocked me all the while. “Keep sanding those parts you can reach, but you will never, never see the bare metal of our insides,” they taunted as I worked my way around the bottom bracket shell and bottle cage bosses. Every time I cleared paint away from the edge of a lug, I’d feel my sense of well-being swell slightly as the brazing revealed itself. Then I’d glance at the cable stops and lose that good feeling.

I could not for the life of me solve that riddle, given the effort it took to sand the parts that were easily reachable. So I asked for some advice from someone I consider a knowledgeable source, aware that I could end up on the business end of a blistering, wolverine-like flurry of teeth and claws, but desperate for the answer. He kindly suggested that an escalation in chemical warfare might help, and that wire brushes (especially drill mounted) might help.

But more importantly, he gave me a stronger suggestion to abandon my efforts and take it to a powder coating shop to let them blast and paint it. “Let someone else do it?” I thought indignantly “This is my project! How could I justify the time, the love, the effort I’ve already invested? How can I think of dishonoring my aching, damaged thumb by giving up?” (My thumb at this point had nearly grown it’s own mouth so it could handle the screaming closer to the source.)

Like a magic bean, however, the planted suggestion grew stronger as I slept. Not only would bead blasting be faster, reaching every nook and cranny of the frame, it would get the surface rust too. I let go of the excitement I had been cultivating from the thought of learning how to paint well. The reality is that I don’t have a booth, or a gun, and if I did I’d still need to fail horribly on several projects to achieve any kind of competency with those of tools. More than likely, faced with that challenge, I’d revert to rattle-cans from AutoZonePartsBoys and get results only marginally better than I’d started with.

And even if, by some miracle, I’d built a booth and picked up a decent sprayer and learned how to shoot Imron and candy and do airbrush flames with an uncanny, supernatural skill right from the get go, the fact is that powder coating is simply better for the environment. A strong component of my love of bikes is their light environmental impact. Using rattle-cans is flat-out damaging to the environment, and shooting urethane wet is several degrees more so.

I woke up and knew instantly where this project was headed, and I felt some shame in surrendering so easily. For about 15 seconds, until my thumb made light contact with the bathroom faucet. In that illuminating instant, I realized that I’d just made a good solid judgment without being unduly emotionally influenced by sunk costs, and that seeing the light involved a pretty minimal waste of time and only light, temporary physical damage. That right there is reason to celebrate in my world!

(And thanks muchly, Mr. Thill, for the excellent advice. I have always depended on the kindness of Internet strangers.)

So last night, Rebbie and I played around with some graphics, spent too much time looking at the wrong colors, and hotly contested their merits and faults. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that aesthetics are subjective, there’s a way things should be done and for some reason you’re always wrong. It’s probably your upbringing or perhaps a genetic flaw, but it’s amazing how you always pick the wrong color. You should see a doctor about that, so that we can all stop laughing about it. God I can’t believe you picked that color, you knob.

What we should’ve done right off, perhaps if we’d been less tired and had been thinking more clearly, was explored our connection to the rich heritage of British racing cars. Which is to say, we don’t have any, but the fucking green works! Check it out, situated for proofing on top of the awesome Creme Fat Franks we picked out for this project.

I look at those tires and can almost taste a vanilla milkshake. And in case you were wondering, yes, they do bring all the boys to the yard, and, that’s right, they’re better than yaws.

So I dropped off the frame, Free Radical, and V-Racks with Chris the Powder Coater in Hyattsville this morning, hung out for an hour chatting and getting the full tour of his shop. He’s going to do the whole shebang in a lovely Forest Green for less than $200, should be done in about a week.

What’s better than that? Nothing, that’s what.