The Art of the Ride Report: a Touring Bicycle Give-Away

Thinking about the best way to give away the refurbished vintage touring bike "for women who fear roadbikes," I kept coming back to the connection between cycling and the Ride Report. If you've spent any time browsing blogs and websites about bicycles, you are no doubt familiar with the genre. While at its most basic level, a ride report is simply a description of a bicycle ride, it is really so much more. Some are infused with a seriousness and depth of analysis that is normally reserved for historical descriptions of war battles. Others are light-hearted and hilarious. Others still are impressively dull, filled with endless lists and technical descriptions. A Ride Report can resemble a travelogue, a parable, a newspaper article, or an entry in a physical fitness diary. A Ride Report can be self-aggrandising or self-depricating. A Ride Report can describe a 1,000 mile tour or a 1 mile trip to the grocery store with equal degrees of drama and suspense. At the heart of it, a Ride Report tells us less about the ride itself than about the cyclist - and the cyclist's relationship to their surroundings, their bicycle, and the very experience of riding a bike.

Not all of us excel at the Ride Report. I for one can seldom think of anything interesting to write about the rides I take - possibly because I space out and daydream through most of them! But a good Ride Report is a thing of beauty, and so I invite you, challenging as it may be, to try your hand at it. Here are the rules:

Submission Rules
In a narrative style of your choosing, describe a bicycle ride that is memorable or significant to you. It can be any sort of ride - transportation, recreation, sport, whatever. Please limit the length of the writing to what would constitute a typical blog entry. Accompanying images are a plus, but not required. Submit your Ride Report either by putting it online and posting a link to it here (preferred!), or by emailing a document to "filigreevelo at yahoo" with the subject header "Ride Report." You are welcome to submit even if you are not entering to win this bicycle. I will compile a sampling of entries and post it for everyone to enjoy. Submission Deadline is 18 September, 2011.

Give-Away Details
With the support of Harris Cyclery, Velo Orange, and a number of my readers, I am giving away a refurbished vintage touring bicycle to a woman who might benefit from it. Pictured above, this bicycle is described in elaborate detail here. Please read that post carefully to decide whether the bike is for you, and feel free to ask any questions in the comments here.

The bicycle is a 52cm frame with 27"x28mm tires and a longish top tube. It is best suitable for persons 5'6" - 5'8", depending on your proportions and how high you like to set up the saddle. The dusty-lilac, early 80s Japanese cro-moly frame is in "good" used condition. It is fitted with mostly modern components (Velo Orange, Nitto, Tektro, MKS, etc.) and is completed with fenders, a bottle cage, a saddlebag and a small air pump. The frame has comfortable relaxed angles, and no toe overlap. The bicycle is a 12-speed. For additional details and lots of pictures, once again please see this post.

This bicycle was built up with a female in mind. The ideal candidate is a cyclist who would like to ride a bike with drop bars, but has found roadbikes difficult, painful, intimidating, or otherwise problematic. The bike being given away is more tame than what you are likely to find on the market today, be it new or secondhand, without spending a fortune, and I hope that it will allow someone out there to enjoy a new form of cycling by easing into it gently and gradually.

Once again, the entry deadline is 18 September, 2011. Good luck, and thank you for taking part!

[Edited to add: The recipient has now been announced here. Thank you everyone for taking part!]

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Gritty to Pretty: the Lovely Donation Bike!

I am pleased to report that the refurbished vintage donation touring bike - also known as "the roadbike for women who fear roadbikes" - is ready! As often happens with these things, the project took longer than I anticipated. In the end we did not have time to put the bicycle together ourselves, and I entrusted the job to the saintly Jim at Harris Cyclery - which contributed the labor pro bono and donated the remaining parts my build was missing, thus becoming a sponsor of this project along with Velo Orange. My sincere thanks to them, as well as to all readers who contributed parts and funds to this effort. This is not yet the official give-away announcement, as I first wanted to show off some pictures and describe the bicycle in detail. I hope you like it!

So what exactly is this bicycle... It began as a vintage Shogun 400 touring bike that looked like this when I picked it up, but has been rebuilt from the frame up. When I spotted the original bike, I immediately thought it had potential. The early '80s Japanese cro-moly frame with relaxed geometry promised a comfortable, "Rivendell-esque" ride. And, despite the fairly small size (52cm), it looked like there would be no toe overlap, even with fenders. As many know, it is extremely difficult to find a roadbike in a small size, with relaxed geometry and no toe overlap - be it modern or vintage - which is what makes some of these unassuming vintage Japanese frames special. My idea was to start with such a frame and build it up with comfortable, functional components - ending up with an unintimidating "starter" roadbike that a beginner would be able to learn on without undue nervousness or discomfort.

The biggest priority was the handlebar set-up. When women tell me they cannot ride vintage roadbikes, much of the time this turns out to be because the handlebars are uncomfortable - lacking a sufficient "shoulder" area. Those who are new to drop bars often assume that they are all the same, but in fact there are dozens of models, with subtle variations in shape. I chose the Nitto Randonneur handlebars for this bike, which have long, flat "shoulders" and a slight, ergonomic flare to them that most cyclists find extremely comfortable, particularly on long rides.

I also chose modern Tektro short-reach brake levers, which are easy to squeeze from the top, even for those with weak hands.

Finally, I chose Silver bar-end shifters, which are much, much easier to use than downtube shifters and less awkward than stem shifters.

The leather handlebar tape is by Velo Orange. I had never tried it before and was glad to discover that it has a softer, more matte texture to it that Brooks leather tape (which I personally find a little too slippery).

Velo Orange Model 3 touring saddle. Saddle comfort is one of these things that is different for everyone, but I have to say that (somewhat to my surprise) I found this one more comfortable than the Brooks B17s I once owned. The leather is very different from Brooks leather, and I cannot speak for its longevity or durability. But for me, there was no "breaking in" period, and no pressure on sensitive body parts. I will soon write a review of this saddle with additional details.

Velo Orange hammered fenders, their pattern of indentations resembling a honeycomb. Later I will also post a comparison between the VO and Honjo versions of hammered fenders.

Velo Orange also provided the headset and their Grand Cru double crankset. It was exciting when these cranksets came out, because they are classically shaped yet affordable. Personally, I find the looks of chunky modern cranksets rather depressing, so it's wonderful that these are an option. I have not ridden with them except during my test rides of this bike, but I welcome readers who've owned them to provide feedback. The pedals included are MKS Touring pedals, which I have on most of my bikes and love.

The wheels are 27" touring wheels from the early '80s - a slightly nicer and cleaner version than the ones originally on the bike. The tires are the puncture-resistant Panaracer Pasela Tourguards. The headset, bottom bracket, chain, brakes, and front derailleur have all been replaced with modern components.

The rear cassette and derailleur are pretty much the only components that were left original. They are in good condition, but the downside is that the bicycle is only a 12 speed - as bikes of its era are. In order to upgrade to a cassette with more cogs, we would have needed to get modern wheels, which was beyond the scope of this project.

Here is a close-up of the bicycle's colour: an unusual champagne-lilac that I personally find very attractive.

The frame has been left original - frayed decals, rust spots and all - and I want to make it very clear that at heart this is still a vintage bike that looks its age, despite the updated components.

I received a Rivendell "SaddleSack" as a donation from one of my readers, but I think this bike works better with a Carradice. So I will let the recipient choose - either the SaddleSack, or one of my own Carradice bags, as shown here. I will soon post a review of the SaddleSack (pictured here).

And so that's it, in a nutshell. To my eye, this bicycle looks modestly beautiful, which is what I was aiming for. It is fairly light and is easy to carry. It is not "fast" by modern roadbike standards, so please don't expect to race or join paceline rides on it. Neither is it a bike for a tour of the Alps, since the gearing is somewhat limited by current standards. It is really meant to be a low-key, introductory roadbike for those with no athletic background, for those who want to explore nature while getting a bit of exercise, and for those who don't want to wear lycra and be all "serious" about roadcycling. If you've been unable to ride roadbikes in the past, this bike may be a good alternative to the ones you've tried. It is friendly. It is stable. There is no toe overlap. Lots of room on the handlebars for moving your hands around. Brake levers are easy to reach and easy to squeeze. Frame geometry is relaxed and won't hurt your knees. Having ridden the bike myself for a bit, it handles as comfortably and easily as I hoped. I've even ridden it in a dress and sandals, and it was great - just a really easy-going, "smell the flowers" kind of bike. Bicycles with drop bars are not for everyone - but this is as unintimidating of a way to try one as I can offer. I will announce the contest rules and timeline in the coming days, and I hope this bicycle will find the right owner.

I want to express my thanks again to Velo Orange, Harris Cyclery, and the generous readers who have contributed to this project: Justine, G.E., Neighbourtease, Spindizzy, Cedar, Somervillain, and others!

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The Surly Cross Check: a Colourful Build

Two months ago, the Co-Habitant got a Surly Cross Check frame that he wanted to build up as a fun on/off road bike around a touring wheelset with fat tires that we already had in our possession. He is getting a nice roadbike later this summer (waiting for the frame to be finished!), and the Surly was meant to be "the other bike" - a playful, go-anywhere bike built around an inexpensive frame, mostly using components we already had. He swiftly put the bike together and has now cycled about 500 miles on it. The Cross Check is technically a cyclocross frame, but it is versatile and can also be used for touring and commuting. Given its unusual build, we've had many questions about this bike and so I offer a review on the Co-Habitant's behalf.

The most noteworthy aspect of the build, is that we were able to fit the frame with Schwalbe Fat Frank tires and metal fenders. This looks great, and the tires feel awesome, but to tell the truth the whole thing was a pain. The Cross Check is described as being able to fit tires up to 45mm with fenders, but the Fat Franks are 50mm. It was a tight fit that required some DIY. Initially we wanted to use Berthoud steel fenders, which are available in 700Cx60mm, but the Co-Habitant was not impressed with their quality upon seeing them in person. He also dislikes plastic fenders and did not want to use SKS. In the end he decided to get the Velo Orange Zeppelin 700c x 52mm fenders (which are rated for 42mm tire), and "massage" them to fit.

Out of the box, the fenders were too tight: The edges touched the sides of the tires and there was not enough space under the brake bridge and behind the seat tube to mount them high. So, the fenders had to be opened up. But when you open up a fender that's 52mm, it no longer follows the line of a 700C tire, instead making the opening much smaller. So while opening the fender, it had to also be stretched out -  taking care not to crimp the edges. To do this, he used a flat low table holding the fender upside down against its surface and pressing down gently, rolling it end to end - opening and pressing down. Pressing down would close the fender and opening it would alter the curvature, so the back and forth balanced out the opposing forces.

For the front fender there was sufficient clearance underneath the fork crown, but in the rear there was less clearance - the brake bridge is quite low and the chainstays are short. He had to dent the top of the rear fender (which isn't visible) in order to get it closer to the brake bridge, then fabricate a custom circular-L-bracket to hold the fender in place, screwed into the eyelet of the brake bridge. To dent the fender, he placed it on some clothing on the top edge of the back of a chair, then hit it with a rubberized end of a pedal wrench, creating a grooved dimple. He also had to dent the ends so that they wouldn't pinch near the bottom bracket. It was a bit of an ordeal, and if you are going to attempt this beware that it is easy to ruin the fender - it may not be a risk worth taking.

Happily, the "massaging" was a success and the Cross-Check looks great with the fat cream tires and the VO Zeppelin fenders. The ride is fast and cushy, and the Co-Habitant is discovering just how addictive wide tires are. On the downside, the clearances between the tires and fenders are so tight, that the set-up is not really practical for serious off-road cycling: stuff can get caught in there and cause problems. But for fire trails and gravel paths it is fine, and if he decides to do anything more serious (like the D2R2!), he will remove the fenders.

The rest of the build for this bicycle has mostly already been described here, but a few changes have been made since then. The original shortish stem has been replaced with a 9cm stem, flipped upside down. The original yellow cloth tape got filthy and tattered fairly quickly, so we replaced it with Fizik tape. Initially, the cloth tape was supposed to be shellacked to a warm caramel - but the bright yellow looked so "right" on this bike, that it began to seem like an inherent part of its personality and he decided to keep it that way. He also added a frame pump, lamenting the lack of pump peg and using a strap to hold it in place.

After two years in a lukewarm relationship with his Brooks Flyer saddle, he decided to sell it and replace it with a Berthoud touring saddle - the male version of the one I now have on my Rivendell. So far he loves it.

He fitted the bike with the Carradice bag that used to be on his old bike.

It now has a patch on it, to cover the tear that happened as a result of the bag rubbing over the brake cable on his old bike.

He affixed a CatEye headlight to a braze-on on the front fork, and a Spanninga Pixeo tail light to the rear fender.

He tried to liberate himself from clipless pedals and rode the bike with touring pedals for a few weeks, but ultimately could not take it anymore and put his old clipless pedals back on. Fair enough, but this does limit the versatility he originally had in mind for the bike.

After riding the Surly Cross Check for two months, his main feedback is that the bike is faster than he expected - even with the wide tires and a bunch of weight in the saddlebag. While initially he intended to use the Cross Check in conjunction with his old Motobecane until he got his new roadbike, the Motobecane was retired as soon as he started riding the Surly - no need for it, since the Cross Check did everything it could do and more. He does not find the bike sluggish, and it seems that the tubing is just right for someone of his stature (6ft/ 200lb+). Overall, he is pretty happy. Though he likes lugs, he also likes a nicely done TIG-welded frame and the Surly suits him just fine.

My take on his Cross Check... I think it is a well-made, attractive frame for the price and I am glad that he finds it comfortable and fast. To be honest, I think that at least to some extent this build was not so much about practicality, as about doing a fun and challenging project using a bunch of components that we had acquired but had no use for. If the original purpose of the bike was off-road, then the tire+fender combo with such tight clearances does not really make sense. I have a feeling that he will end up using it mainly on the road, because I can't imagine him bothering to remove and reinstall the fenders every time he wants to take it on serious trails. And this means that when he gets his long-awaited road frame later this summer, the functionalities of the two bikes will overlap considerably. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But given how much he likes the Surly I am almost worried that he might be disappointed with the special bike he's waiting for. Well, hopefully not.

On a more general note, while the Cross Check is clearly versatile enough for commuting and touring, I wonder whether many cyclists actually use it for cyclocross racing. I have a hard time imagining that, given how relatively heavy it is - even the floor models with narrower tires and sportier components. But maybe I'm just biased from having handled too many lightweight bikes recently.

The Surly Cross Check is a fun bike with a cult following, and it is particularly impressive how customisable the frame is. With its happy colours, fat cream tires, elegant fenders and classic touring accessories, the Co-habitant's Cross Check is distinctly his own.

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Our Beautiful Experiment

When Bryan Hollingsworth phoned to tell me that "our" frame was back from the painter's, I dropped what I was doing, grabbed my camera and was there within minutes. For weeks I had been nervously anticipating the results of my emphatic description of what I wanted this frame to look like - a description presented in an illustrated 3-page document, then further clarified in a tête-à-tête with the painter. He must have thought I was insane to wax lyrical about the precise shade of "stormy seas" I had in mind. But no matter, because it's done and it looks just as I had imagined!

So what exactly is this frame? I have mentioned before in passing that I am collaborating with Bryan of Royal H. Cycles on a classic randonneuring bicycle. I provided the geometry and tubing specs (don't worry, I had a lot of help), came up with the colour scheme, and specced the components. Bryan built the frame with his signature touches, and will be putting the bike together - including internally routed lighting. In other words, he did the real work while I talked, gesticulated, sent emails, and took pictures. It takes all kinds.

It's difficult to tell at the drawing board how a frame will really look once it is finished, but this is pretty much what we hoped it would look like. The Everest lugset and Grand Bois fork crown are just perfect together. The tubing is True Temper OX Platinum, with Kaisei Toei Special fork blades.

This is a classic randonneuring frame in the sense that it has low trail geometry and is built for 650B wheels with wide tires. Specifically, we will be using the Grand Bois Hetres, and you can see them fitted onto the "naked" frame here. The build will be fairly classic and high quality, but nothing too flashy. We are going to try to keep the weight down as well. The frame and fork themselves feel very light.

Bryan had just ordered these custom RHC (Royal H Cycles) end caps for seat stays, and this is the first frame that will have them. He also made the cantilever cable hanger.

Front derailleur hanger.

Zink-plated dropouts, eyelets for fenders and rear rack.

Bottom bracket, cable routing, stainless kickstand plate. There is much more to this frame, but I will save it for when the bicycle is finished!

Bryan has several options for decal designs that he uses, and I wanted the frame to have aspects from different ones. So the head tube insignia design is from one set, while the downtube insignia is from another, and I love the way it all came together here. I also really wanted this band around the seat-tube, which reminds me of a vintage candy wrapper.

The main frame colour is a slate-blue-green metallic paint with very fine pearlescent particles. I suspect that this is the same or a similar paint as what Mercian uses for their polychromatic colour family, which they describe as resembling "the underside of tin foil." While it's not for everyone, I am crazy about this finish, and the colour really does resemble a stormy sea. The lugwork is off-white with a similar metallic shimmer as the main frame colour, resulting in a sort of mirror finish effect. In person this creates an interesting illusion, where the lugs sometimes look white, and at other times resemble the main frame colour. The lugwork is subtly outlined in gold.

Before this bicycle is sent off to the customer, I will be test riding it for a few weeks and inviting a couple of more experienced cyclists to test ride it as well. Neither the framebuilder, nor the customer, nor myself have any idea what to expect from this bike and that is part of the excitement. We all wanted to try a classic randonneuring bicycle, and creating one ourselves was an interesting way to make that happen. I will post more about this bike once it is built up, and will most likely be writing about it for Bicycle Quarterly sometime later this year, so stay tuned. A big thank you to everyone who helped make this happen. It is a beautiful experiment, and I can't wait to find out how it rides!

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I am Curious, Yellow

Obscure film references aside, the past week for me has been dominated by equal parts anticipation and anxiety. I've ridden my loaner roadbike for 120 miles in preparation for the next paceline ride... which, ironically, was cancelled for the second time in a row due to rain. The more time passes, the more my anticipation builds and the more exaggerated my anxieties become.

The Co-Habitant and I did two fast-paced, hilly rides over the weekend - he on his Surly Cross Check and I on the borrowed Seven. We went over the same hills where he has previously passed me nonchalantly regardless of which bikes we were both riding... only this time our positions were reversed dramatically. I shot past him while exerting little effort, continued to merrily cycle uphill, and then waited for him to catch up as I sipped water and sniffed flowers.

Of course we expected that a racy roadbike would be faster than a heavier and more relaxed cyclocross bike with wide tires and a saddlebag. But since he is a stronger cyclist than I am to begin with, I thought that the discrepancy would level the playing field between us. Neither of us thought that it would make me this much faster uphill.

The interesting thing is that on downhills and flats there was not much difference between us; it was uphill that the bike really began to matter. This parallels my experience of the paceline ride on my Rivendell, where it was specifically on the uphill portions that I felt a disadvantage to the others.

But while I am now confident in the bike's climbing ability, this is tempered by a fear not only of its speed on descents, but also of my relative unfamiliarity with its handling. After putting nearly 2,000 miles on my Rivendell I pretty much know how it behaves across a wide range of situations. The 120 miles on the Seven are just not sufficient for that kind of comfort to develop. I don't mind admitting that I'm plain scared when riding it at 25mph+ downhill - scared of the narrow tires, scared of the carbon fork, and scared of its precise but aggressive cornering. The fear saps away my confidence, making me squeeze the brakes and cycle more conservatively than I am capable of.

Being 100% comfortable with a bicycle is not something I can force; it takes time. My curiosity is a strong motivator to keep riding and practicing, specifically seeking out those situations that still make me nervous.

While the bike is in my possession I've fitted it with my own saddle, which has made it more comfortable to ride long distances. I've also installed my pedals (the narrow MKS Streams) and PowerGrips. This looks silly on a bike that is typically ridden clipless, but I don't care: I need to ride it in a way that makes me comfortable. I've also now raised the saddle another 5mm from how it's shown in this picture, which almost makes it look like the standover is not too high. Almost. The length of the toptube and the handlebar set-up work well for me (the Ride Studio Cafe matched the configuration to one of my own bikes) and it's only the seat tube height that's off. The result is that the bike fits me extremely well when I am riding it, but looks too big when I am not. Ideally, the frame would have the same virtual top tube length, with the actual top tube just a little bit sloped in order to reduce standover. Given the available demo models I prefer this set-up over a smaller frame, because I don't like toe overlap. All in all I feel good on this bike, which is what matters.

I really hope they don't cancel the paceline ride next week; the anticipation is getting ridiculous. In the meantime, all I can do is keep riding.

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Tentatively Titanium

As many have figured out by now, I am being loaned a Seven roadbike as part of a sponsorship deal with the Ride Studio Cafe in Lexington, MA. I will have it for a little while, and it is the bike on which I will attempt future paceline training rides - if it ever stops raining long enough for them to resume!

My acquaintance with this bicycle goes back to last Autumn, when I first discovered the Ride Studio Cafe and the Seven demo models that dwelt within its space.

I half-joked with the owner then, that I would like to test ride one: Some of my friends in Europe are big fans and they were excited to learn that I lived in such close proximity to Seven Cycles. He was on board with the idea, and eventually the test ride took place. That was two weeks ago, and I intended to post a test ride report earlier. But now that I have the bike for longer, I will wait to write a proper review until after I return it - in the meantime offering some initial thoughts. 

Seven Cycles are built in Watertown, MA - which is 5 miles from where I live. And it seems like every local bicycle mechanic and framebuilder I know has either worked for them or has some sort of connection with them, and almost certainly owns at least one of their bikes. This creates a weird discrepancy: Knowing so many people who own them, I cannot help but think of Seven bikes as commonplace. But then I also keep hearing oohs and aahs from non-locals about how expensive and precious they are. 

The model I rode is the Axiom S: titanium frame with carbon fiber fork, fitted with the Campagnolo Chorus component group, Mavic racing wheels and 23mm tires. More than a little intimidated by the set-up, I expected the bicycle to ride like my idea of a racing bike: stiff, harsh, aggressive. In fact, I half expected not to be able to ride it at all, not to feel comfortable with the handling. But the handling was easy, and the ride quality was not what I expected.

I don't know how to describe the Seven without a reference point. Ideally, I would like to have something to compare it to other than lugged steel and a couple of very brief aluminum and carbon fiber experiences. But speaking from my current, limited viewpoint, I can only describe the sensation as "extreme road dampening" - to the point of not being able to feel the ground. This is a different feeling from the way fat tires roll over potholes, or a flexible steel frame dampens shock. This is something else, and it feels weird. It's like the ground isn't there. I see the bump. I see my 23mm front tire start going over the bump. But I don't feel it. Throughout this, the frame and fork are very stiff - there is hardy any flex at all. Having thought that flexible frames dampened shock and stiff frames translate into harsh rides, I am a little confused.

Furthermore - and this is even harder to put into words - it is as if I can't feel the bike while I am riding it. I feel the cranks being turned by my legs, I feel the handlebars at the points where I am holding them, and I feel my butt on the saddle... but the frame feels almost absent. 

The combination of these sensations leaves me with a disembodied feeling - as if I am floating above the road instead of making contact with it. Is that a good thing? 

  

With its sleek titanium surface, curved stays and ethereal ride quality, the Seven to me is like some alien machine rather than a bike. I've gone on four rides on it so far, and I feel comfortable with its precise, stable and distinctly non-twitchy handling. But the "floaty" feeling puzzles me.

It's been raining here non stop for over a week, yet I've been stubbornly cycling. Covered in a layer of crud after such rides, the Seven seems more down to earth and I find myself welcoming that. When clean, the titanium has an almost clinical quality that intimidates me, but the dirt makes it warmer and less machine-like. Maybe it is a bike after all.

Hopefully the rain will soon stop, so that I can practice some hills and see how the Seven really compares to my other bikes. I am sure it will be faster, but will it feel safe? The fact that I am comfortable riding it in the rain is a good sign, but I'd like to learn more about its handling, especially on descents. And I would love to know how a bicycle this stiff and aggressive can produce such an extreme road dampening effect. 

What are your thoughts on titanium frames? 

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