Ride Lugged

i was talking to a local rider and friend, and fellow penn state art program guy eric roman the other day. yesterday actually. and we were sitting at the table cory designed, and talking about people we knew, and found that we both knew a number of philly folks, and meg, so there meg, eric says hey. he held up his fingers, pressed them together and said “the east coast scene is still this big”, or something like that. imagine a fellow 11 years older than me but 40 lbs lighter, who only rides a singlespeed, and still races in the pro class, and has lots of tattoos, and you sort of get an idea of what he looks like. we were looking at my witcomb (was meg’s) and it has the new sachs new success cranks on it, which are sharp looking by anyone’s gauge. he told me they were made by campy using record (or was it chorus) molds, and just branded sachs, which made them sort of under the radar cool. really though, they are the most polished thing on the bike, so they arnt that under the radar. this makes me wonder though: should i be using a campy taper bottom bracket, because i am not, and have logged at least 200 miles on them, and they seem fine, stiff smooth low Q, and silver. eric said: they arnt light but butter never is, or something like that but more clever and off the cuff.

all of those thoughts stem out of me sitting here, next to mel (well she got up for something, oh a shot of slivovice, which stinks like medice, thanks cory, medice from 1932, in its original bottle. she’s back now, and reading the newest reader, with her tea and shot of czech booze. and i am looking at those cranks, which, sharp looking as they are, manage to look clunky next to my lyotard Berthet pedals. made of stamped steel, these pedals are somehow bigger, more comfortable, curvy, and lighter than any quill pedal out there, and their hollow stamped windows and swoopy lines remind me of a late 1930s roadster more than any other pedal i can think of. they look like they were drawn using a set of french curves, by a designer who only looked at war time alfa romeros. only alfa romeros didnt look that swoopy when the berthet pedal was invented in 1923ish. they make the otherwise super elegant sachs cranks look like overkill, huge cold forged arms, fat low pro spider. of course even these look lighter and more svelt than new campy stuff. outboard bearings never did anything positive to a bike’s aesthetic, which, i like to think is at least partially why sean goes through all that trouble to hide them. those ridges on the outside of the bearing shells (for external bbs not the vertigo ones) are cool like those sun shade visor things you see on the back windows of 85 iroc-Zs and mustangs. FLASH: they are called sun louvers, which makes them even more lame sauce in clown town, to combine a sean-ism and dave-ism. FLASH: mel just turned off the celtic music. thank god.

I recently picked up a cycling magazine that wasnt the reader, to prove that i keep up with the contemporary world madness of our times. in it found such treasure like 1.5 inch headsets for road bikes (ok they really didnt need to move beyond 1 inch, ok threadless if you are that guy, but 1.5 inch? functional advantages: now you and your bike can look like you dope. claimed advantages: stiffer front end for more positive cornering. now, i have to provide a disclaimer here: i’ve never ridden at 60+ down a huge mountain on a more or less perfectly smooth road on a course that has been precleared for obstacles. but i have descended down sketchy dirt roads at over 45 mph with a one inch threaded headset, a nitto stem with tons of quill showing, and 39cm wide bars that are over 40 years old, with centerpull brakes, and never once, not once, was i aware of, or concerned for front end deflection. and i am fatter than those racy dudes, and carry at least 10lbs in my handle bar bag. if anyone should feel it, it’s me. so it is at this point that i officially say: stop it. just stop it. stop it, please stop it. its gone beyond making me mad, it actually makes me tear up. i’m not planning on having kids, but this is the madness that future children will be born into. a culture that thinks of threaded steerers like you and i think about bushing chains: little if at all.

i was out riding today, just before dinner, a 12ish mile loop that takes me up some steep hills so i can get my singlespeed legs back on. i was riding my witcomb, traditional sized tubing, 1980s race geometry, 40cm bars, cloth tape, wheels that cory had on the second worst bike in the world, one speed. i was having an ok ride, not moving as fast as i was last night, when i saw the holy grail: two cyclists up ahead, roadies, climbing out of the saddle. catch them. that’s what to try to do. lately, my shape has been such that that would have been a pipe dream. but i sprinted, hard, and caught them, and blew past them, nicely, with a comment about the nasty headwind but the nice temps, and then tried to hold my lead. i had to beat them up the next climb (as soon as i passed them, they started after me, pride is a wonderful motivator) and down a series of steep, swooping descents, and then up a series of stepped climbs. I held my lead, my single speed being perfectly geared for out of the saddle mashing on this particular grade. i out descended them too, and perhaps by now they had given up. but no, right around the bend, there they were, sprinting out of the saddle on a flat. you don’t do that with gears unless you A. ‘ know how to ride or B. are trying to catch someone. Miraculously though, i had found the spin zone, and just sat and spun my tits off, as they say. held the lead for 6 miles. then i broke. my stomach developed a cramp you could sell to the CIA for interrogation purposes. my legs turned to mush. i almost fell off the bike from the cramp it was so bad. it was like getting shot with a .22 at close range but without the click bang. it was like having a guy inside of you crash his 4 inch buick lesabre into your colon. it hurt. i wobbled on my bike. i paid for my lead. i came home and did unspeakable things to the bathroom. i’m getting ready to race.