Pass It Along

A few weeks ago, I experienced my very first incident of dropping a chain. Of all the times this could happen, it happened during a paceline ride: We were transitioning from a downhill to an abrupt uphill and I rapidly switched to the small chainring. It's funny how we don't immediately recognise things that we haven't experienced before, and it took me a moment to understand what was happening. I sensed that pedaling suddenly became way too easy and that I was losing speed rapidly... but what could be the matter? It wasn't until somebody yelled "chain off!" that I looked down - and oh my God, my chain was off! It was surreal, like one of those dreams where someone says "But why are you wearing a duck costume?" and that's when you realise that, indeed, you are wearing a duck costume. First comes the wave of shock, then realisation that this must be a dream. Except this time I was awake - and aware that three other girls were pedaling behind me, so that a sudden stop on my part would likely cause a crash. 

Everything happened quickly. I managed to make a "pulling over" gesture, then steered the chainless bike onto the grass and dismounted, averting disaster. But the rest was pathetic. Though I knew how to get the chain back on, my hands were not cooperating. Soon I was covered in grease and bleeding from somehow having cut myself on the chainring, but the chain would not stay on. "Need help?" said a voice next to me. I became aware that one woman stayed behind with me and was now observing my ineptitude. Still in a state of shock and now also red with embarrassment, I could not even answer coherently, and could only mutter "it won't stay on... why won't it stay on?.." Next thing I knew, she calmly took the bike from me, put the chain back on the ring, and turned the pedals until the chain was back on. I felt like an idiot as I thanked her profusely - but she expressed not an ounce of annoyance. "Don't worry about it. I froze the first time it happened too." I don't know whether this was true, or whether she was just being self-deprecating to make me feel better, but it did make me feel better.

Fast forward to my ride this morning. I stopped to drink some water and saw a woman walking her bike toward me from the side of the road. "Excuse me, could I use your phone?" I gave her my phone and asked what happened. She replied, with some embarrassment, that her chain came off and she wasn't able to get it back on. She wanted to call her boyfriend for a ride. "I know how to do it, but it's just not working." I looked at her chain and decided to give it a try. This time I wasn't nervous or under pressure to fix my bike as soon as possible. I said "May I?" and - miracle of miracles - got the chain back on. She rode the bike down the path and back, confirmed that it was working, and no longer wanted to call her boyfriend. She was just as flustered about not having been able to do it herself as I had been two weeks earlier. So I said the same thing the woman in the paceline had said to me: "Don't worry about it. I froze the first time it happened too." It was true!

When mechanical problems happen, I think it's natural to freeze. We may know how to fix things in theory, but when it's actually happening to us for the first time, it's a different story. It's nice to be helped without being judged as inept. I appreciated that help when I got it, and will reciprocate in the same manner when I can. 

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Shifter Placement on a Mixte: an Aesthetic and Functional Challenge

I've been asked to describe how the shifters are set up on my mixte, but I hesitate to write about it, because I don't necessarily recommend this method. My handlebar setup consists of inverse brake levers, elk hide grips covering the entire handlebar, and bar-end friction shifters mounted upon "thumbies" up toward the front. The rationale here was to leave as much of the handlebar area uninterrupted as possible, allowing for a variety of hand positions. It works nicely in that context, but it is not for everyone - which brings me to the issue so many have written to me about: There seem to be few options for mounting gear shifters on a mixte with upright handlebars that are both elegant and convenient. Personally, I find my own setup not entirely elegant: Too many cables up front. And it's not entirely convenient either: The levers can only be reached when the hands are in the aggressive forward position on the bars. But what other possibilities are there?

One alternative is to move the shifters closer to the edges of the handlebars, so that they are near the brake levers. This placement is more convenient if that is the position where you tend to hold your hands the most, and since I've been using my own mixte more and more as a city bike I am considering switching to something like this. The problem, however, is that placing the shifters here interrupts the handlebars and limits potential hand positions: It will not be possible to slide my hands back and forth along the bars the way it's possible on my current mixte set-up. Also, it's essential to get the angle of the shifters just right, and doing so does not always result in attractive placement. Finally, both with my current set-up and with the set-up pictured above, there is something messy-looking to my eye in having so many cables sprouting from the handlebars. I have not been able to find a way to make handlebar-mounted shifters look attractive.

A potential way to clean up the handlebar setup from the "messy cables" look while keeping the shifters within reach is to opt for bar-ends. I tried this prior to my current setup, but quickly discovered that this works well only with the wide Nitto Albatross bars used by Rivendell, and ideally on a bike with a long virtual top tube and/or with the handlebars raised high. Otherwise, you may discover that the bar-end shifters will poke you in the knees to the point where it could interfere with pedaling on turns. That is exactly what happened when I tried them on my small sized mixte with narrow Porteur bars.

If none of these methods appeal to you, you can go the vintage route - one possibility being to mount the shifters on the stem. However, generally this is not recommended for a number of reasons. Some claim that mounting the shifters in this spot is dangerous, because they could potentially "impale" you if you fall forward on your bike. To me this seems rather far-fetched: After all, it's common to have bruises on your thighs from bumping into bar-end shifters, yet no one claims they are dangerous. I think the real reason stem shifters are disliked is that they are considered to be a symbol of lower-end bikes: In the '70s, stem shifters meant that a bike was marketed for amateurs who held their hands mostly on top of the handlebars and were unable to reach downtube shifters.

But while downtube shifters offer elegance and simplicity, removing the second set of cables from the handlebars entirely, most cyclists who are looking for an upright mixte find them difficult to use. In order to shift gears, you have to remove you hand from the handlebars are reach quite a ways down. Particularly if you are sitting upright, this is inconvenient - not to mention beyond the skill level of some cyclists.

As far as aesthetics go, a mixte frame is a challenge to set up, because the twin lateral stays already add a degree of visual complexity to the looks. If you add a cluttered handlebar set-up to that, it can get pretty messy. In vintage photos and in handmade bicycle shows, the cleanest looking mixtes tend to be set up either as single speeds, with hub gearing, or with single chinrings - ensuring that there is, at most, only one shifter to deal with. But in practice, most mixtes today are set up with derailleur gearing and either double or triple chainrings - presenting an aesthetic and functional challenge. 

While I cannot offer a solution that would suit everyone's tastes, I wanted to share the methods I know of and the pros and cons of each, as I see them. How have you set up the shifters on your mixte, and are you happy with them in terms of user-friendliness and looks?

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Leveling the Playing Field

File this under "duh" if you will, but I need to acknowledge this out of fairness to Rivendell, and as a means of providing information to others wondering just how much of an effect one's positioning on a bike can have on pedaling effort and speed. Earlier I described being considerably faster, particularly uphill, on the Seven bicycle I have on loan in comparison to my Rivendell Sam Hillborne. It was widely agreed that there were many factors involved in this difference - from frame geometry, to weight, to positioning. For some time now I'd been considering making changes to my Rivendell, and finally it's been done - thus somewhat leveling the playing field between the two bikes, with interesting results.

You may spot a number of other alterations in these pictures, but for now I will talk just about the difference in positioning. Namely, the bike now has a longer stem (8 cm, instead of 6 cm as previously). The handlebars have been positioned slightly lower as well.

We've also reduced the amount of setback on the saddle by about 2 cm (not just by moving the saddle forward, but by replacing the seatpost). The overall effect is that my lean has increased by a small amount, my weight on the bike has shifted forward, and my hips are move directly above the cranks.

It's important to stress that I would not have found this position comfortable a year ago, so making these changes is not so much "admitting a mistake," as altering the bicycle's set-up to reflect my changing skill level and preferences. I very much find this position comfortable now - comfortable and fast.

We rode to Lexington, MA to try some hill intervals. I did not attach a saddlebag, so that I could get a sense of how the bike itself performs. And it performed well - albeit differently from the Seven.

Here is my amateur description of what happens on the two bikes when I cycle uphill: The Seven allows me to very easily "attack" a hill - to cycle up it at a fairly high speed, until I run out of steam toward the end and am forced to slow down. In comparison, the Rivendell does not like to "attack" and forces me to slow down earlier. In its previous state, this slowing down happened almost immediately and drastically. Now it happens half way up, and the speed drop is considerably smaller. Cycling on flats, the new positioning makes the Rivendell faster to accelerate than previously. Not as fast as a racing bike of course, but I no longer feel as if I am sitting "behind the bike" unable use my weight efficiently.

Once I attach bags, that will no doubt slow it down some. But I have a strong feeling that the change in performance is due to the forward placement of my weight more than anything else - when I ride the bike now it feels inherently different - more responsive and more efficient. I am not trying to convert the Rivendell to a Seven and I am not considering taking it on paceline rides. I want to keep the wide tires, the fenders, the rack, the bags, the lighting - there is no compromise possible on that end, as these features are extremely useful to me. But the Seven's positioning (and my enjoyment of that positioning) has most definitely affected my expectations in terms of performance, and I don't think I can go back to short stems and seatposts with generous setback. Not that there is any reason I should - It's all about what you are comfortable with at any given point in time.

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The Brompton: an Extended Test Ride

About a year ago, I briefly test-rode a Brompton folding bicycle and wrote about it here. We've been toying with the idea of getting Bromptons since before I started this blog, but it just hasn't happened. For one thing, I am not all that attracted to folders. They are fascinating, but they don't excite me in a way that would make purchasing one feel like an absolute priority. On some level, I also just instinctively don't trust that a small folding bike is as versatile and convenient as some claim: Is it really a good idea to ride a tiny bike in city traffic, where you want maximum visibility? Can a bike like this possibly handle hills? And don't those small wheels make for a harsh ride? My short encounter with the bike last year was insufficient to answer these questions, so I decided to test ride it properly once and for all. Harris Cyclery kindly lent me their demo model for this purpose. I left my own bike at Harris and rode home on the Brompton, then brought it back two days later.

The model I rode was the P6L-X, which means that it is set up with "butterfly" trekking handlebars, 6 speeds, fenders but no rear rack. The "X" at the end indicates that the frame is the lightweight version - with titanium fork and rear triangle. Generally Bromptons are available either all-steel or with titanium parts, either with or without fenders and racks, with a variety of gearing options, with or without dynamo lighting, and with a choice of handlebar styles.

Here are the three styles of handlebars next to one another: the "S" type (mountain bike style straight bars), the "M" type (traditional upright bars), and the "P" type (trekking or "butterfly" bars).

I chose a model with the trekking bars, because I was worried that my hands would bother me in the limited hand positions afforded by the other styles. I have problems with the nerves in my hands that make it difficult to hold them in the straight-in-front position for more than a few minutes at a time, so I did not want to take chances on the 9 mile ride home that awaited me.

Now I know that lots of people find these trekking bars goofy, and I agree. But you know what? The Brompton is already goofy, so to my eye the bars look right at home here. Imagine replacing that expanse of foam with some nice cork tape - I think this could look great.

The gearing on the 6-speed Brompton is interesting in that it includes both a hub and a derailleur. The shifter on the right handlebar operates the 3-speed Sturmey Archer hub, while the shifter on the left operates the 2-speed derailleur.

Here is a close-up of the hub and derailleur together.

And a panned out view. Notice also the titanium rear triangle in this picture.

Titanium fork.

The crown on these forks is made in the style of the Raleigh/ Pashley fork, which looks very cute in miniature. On the all-steel models, the fork crowns look like this.

There is lots of debate among Brompton owners regarding whether the lightweight option is worth the hefty upcharge it fetches. The titanium parts reduce the weight of the bicycle by 2lb, and some claim that they also improve ride quality. Others claim that there is no difference in ride quality, and that the weight difference is negligible. Even after having tried both versions, I am unsure where I stand on this one. The online consensus appears to be that the lightweight package is not worth the price, but in person more than half of the Brompton owners I meet are sporting the titanium parts - shrugging diplomatically when questioned about its "value." Make what you will of that!

As I wrote in my previous review, everything on the Brompton is impeccably made, proprietary and adorable. The tiny fenders with tiny mudflaps are particularly endearing.

The little wheels mounted at the rear are so that the bicycle can be rolled when folded.

The staff at Harris Cyclery showed me how to fold and unfold the bike and attached a huge basket to the front, so that I could carry all of my stuff home. I first rode on the streets behind the store without the basket, just to get used to the bike. Because the Brompton is so low to the ground and has such small wheels, it initially gives the impression of being a very long bike and this took me some getting used to. It also felt "different" from normal bikes when starting from a stop: At first there was an odd sensation of momentary front end wobble when starting, so I practiced starting and stopping at intersections until it felt natural. Then I mounted the front basket and set off.

My ride home was just over 9 miles and the first half of it was on fairly busy, hilly roads, in 5pm suburban traffic. The Brompton does not handle like other bikes I am used to, but I did not find this bad or difficult to manage, just different. I soon discovered that the bike was easy to maneuver through tight spaces, and was capable of making dramatic turns gracefully and safely. I used this to my advantage when cycling through town centers in stand-still traffic. I was also pleasantly surprised by how easy it was to cycle up hill; The Brompton had a light, roadish feel to it when climbing. Cycling downhill felt stable, and the brakes were easy to control and modulate. 

There is a lot of talk about small wheeled bikes having a "harsh ride quality," so here is my take on it. When riding the Brompton, I was aware of a constant, but extremely subtle feeling of road vibration regardless of whether the road was smooth or bumpy. This sounds worse than it actually is, so let me clarify: There was no pain or sense of being "knocked about" associated with what I am describing, just a very tiny, barely perceptible "shimmy" type sensation. Interestingly, when the bicycle actually went over bumps - even sizable ones - it handled them better than the average full-sized bike. So: I am okay with the subtle shimmy if it comes with the superior ability to swallow bumps, but others might not agree. Best thing to do is to test ride the bike and see how you feel about the ride quality - but "harsh" would not be a word I'd use to describe it at all. I can imagine riding the Brompton long distances on bad roads.

The trekking handlebars were not as helpful as I had hoped in allowing for a variety of hand positions. I mostly kept my hands on the tops and occasionally on the corners. It is not possible to reach the brakes from the other positions, but moreover the other positions are not especially comfortable. I've been told by several Brompton retailers now that many customers prefer the traditional M-bar, but with bar-end attachments that will allow for a more ergonomic hand placement. 

Both the Co-Habitant and I rode the Brompton repeatedly over the course of the two days I had it on loan. My positive impressions included the high quality of the build, the smoothness over bumps, the maneuverability, the ease of mounting and dismounting (low step-over), the compact size, and the amazing load capacity. This bike is designed for enormous front bags, plus whatever the rear rack can fit - I had no idea it could carry this much stuff. And as far as aesthetics, I find the Brompton charmingly eccentric, and would be fine riding it. My favourite colour option is the raw lacquer, though I also love the new sage green. My not so positive impressions included the weight (a 20lb folding bike?), and the fact that should you not wish to drag the bike around with you everywhere, it is not so easy to lock up safely. While I know that most people are crazy about the famous Brompton fold, I am neutral about it. Maybe I'm just being difficult, but I don't get the miracle there: Okay, so it folds... Isn't that the whole point of a folding bike? But I am only partly serious and I do understand that it folds better than the other folders out there. It is a neat design that is especially conducive for travel - which is precisely why we are considering it.

In reality, our biggest problem with buying Bromptons is that in the course of choosing all the options we'd want (good lighting, 6-speed gearing, fenders, racks, extras) the bikes transform from what initially promises to be reasonably priced to something entirely unaffordable. Depending on the components and options selected, a Brompton can easily double or even nearly triple in cost, so that is something to keep in mind. Is it worth it? That depends on how much you want or need a folding bike. And among folding bikes, the Brompton is widely acknowledged to be "the best." Thank you to Harris Cyclery, in West Newton, MA, for this extended test ride.

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Pilen Contest Winner and Other Updates

Thank you so much once again to everybody who took the time to create the wonderful images paying tribute to Swedish cinema and the bicycle! After much deliberation I am pleased to announce that there is a winner. Over the course of the past week, I wavered between eight finalists. In the end, I took into account not only the image itself (it was really impossible to choose on that account alone), but also how suitable I thought the Pilen would be for the person.

Without further ado: The winner of the contest is Amanda Hamilton, and this was her picture:

To create this striking image, Amanda cut out a paper silhouette of the bicycle, then shot footage of herself and played it on a loop while filming the cut-out in front of it.

This is the paper cut-out that served as the bicycle model. I was surprised and intrigued by this entry, both in terms of its creative interpretation of the guidelines and in terms of how labor intensive it must have been. It was only one of my favourite images, but when I contacted Amanda over email it became apparent that she and the Pilen would be a good match on many levels. Congratulations!

Over the course of the next two weeks I will be finished with my review, and then the bicycle will be shipped to the winner. I hope it is understandable that this is a demo model that I have been now riding for a month - so there will be some scuffs and other mild signs of use. Happily, the Pilen is very durable and my intense testing has left it none the worse for wear. Many thanks again to Pilen's North American distributor BoxCycles for donating the beautiful bicycle and making this give-away possible.

I would also like to update you on other contests, past and future:

The winner of the Po Campo Spare Pocket give-away, sponsored by Planet Gear, has been named, and will receive this enigmatic item shortly from Planet Gear directly.

The winner of the Bella Ciao Superba give-away is being a good sport and waiting patiently, as the bicycles are running fashionably late and have not arrived in the US yet! More on this soon, and they are on their way as I write this.

And finally, after some delay the Lovely Touring Bike contest is coming up next! I have some ideas for this one, but am not yet sure what the rules for it will be. Requests and suggestions welcome!



Many thanks to everybody once again for taking part in the give-aways and I will try my best to keep them going. And of course, thank you for reading Lovely Bicycle!

Oh, and can anyone tell what that camera is, resting on the Pilen's rear rack, and during what years it was produced? A roll of 35mm film for the first person to post the answer : )

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Adjustable Stem!

When I wrote about wanting a longer stem on one of my bikes, several people suggested I get ahold of a vintage adjustable stem. I did not know that such a thing existed, but clearly there is much I don't know.

Long story short, I am now in the temporary possession of a 3ttt Record Regolabile adjustable stem, on loan courtesy of Jan Heine of the Bicycle Quarterly. I decided to use it not on my own bike, but on the Royal H. randonneur collaboration - it just looked so appropriate.

Produced in the 1970s by Tecno Tubo Torino of Italy, this elegant stem adjusts from (I think) 6 cm to 12 cm. Here is more information about it and some close-up pictures. The beauty of this system is that it combines the vertical adjustability of the quill stem with the horizontal adjustability of the threadless stem (with the latter you can swap out stems without redoing your handlebar set-up). Why are things like this not being made anymore? Those of us who constantly change our minds about handlebar positions would find it extremely useful. Right now I have it adjusted for 8 cm, but who knows what the future holds - I am looking forward to playing around with this! 

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Talk to Me About 'Off Road'...

Almost every cyclist I'm friendly with loves to ride off road. And when I admit that I don't love it so much, the reaction is that of dismay. "What? But you like Rivendell! But you write about randonneuring! But you showed so much promise cycling on those scenic beach trails!" Well yes... And yet I prefer pavement.

Of course, everyone has their own ideas of what "off road" is. For some, anything that's not paved qualifies. For others, only the really treacherous, narrow trails are worthy of the label. I tend to use the former definition, but often get corrected ("Oh, well that's not off road; that's just dirt roads!") - which of course only makes me feel more of a sissy. I can handle fire trails if they are packed dirt with occasional pebbles and roots, but I draw the line at loose gravel that slips out from under my tires, and trails fraught with large rocks and ditches that I need to navigate around at speed. It feels unsafe, and when I feel unsafe no amount of romantic photos or assurances that "it'll be fine!" from ride companions can induce me to go on. Maybe it'll be fine for them, but I need to think for myself and my brain screams "don't do it; you'll perish!"

But maybe I exaggerate. When we were in Rockport last weekend, the Co-Habitant lured me onto some trails ("we'll walk our bikes to the water") and I ended up riding on 23mm tires over dirt and gravel.  I've also found myself intentionally taking my bikes on unpaved parts of local trails lately, maybe to test the waters.

As August approaches, people are talking about the D2R2 (Deerfield Dirt-Road Randonnée) - a notoriously hilly, strenuous ride through Western Massachusetts and Vermont, held entirely on winding dirt roads. I considered trying to do the "easy" (40 mile) route, but based on the stories I hear even that might be out of my league. It would be good to read a ride report from someone whose comfort zone is similar to mine, to get an accurate idea of what it is really like.

But wait a minute, why would I even want to go to something like the D2R2 if I don't enjoy cycling off road? Maybe because I want to like it, or keep hoping that I'll like it if I just give it another chance. There is so much beauty that can't be seen from paved roads, and it's a shame to miss it. Now if only I could learn to climb and descend on loose gravel without panicking and getting off my bike immediately!

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