OR: I Hate Everybody On the Road, But I Still Obey Traffic Control Devices
I live in a fairly large city. You've heard of it. Somehow or another, it's made it onto a few "best of" and "most friendly" kinds of bike ranking lists, though it's most often listed as "up and coming" on those lists. This translates as, "biking here still fucking sucks, though not as much as it did 5 years ago." The city is full of aggressive, stupid, willfully ignorant, and most importantly, selfish drivers. The kinds of drivers who will hold up 4 lanes of traffic in both directions so they can poorly execute a K-turn to nab a parking spot that ends up being too small for their fucking SUV anyway. Like that.
Riding in the city is like Thunderdome. There is nothing relaxing about it, you cannot let your guard down, and there is a source of aggravation at every single intersection and most stretches of road in between. This is not a diatribe against drivers. I own a car, I drive a car, and goddamit, sometimes, I even enjoy driving.
This is not a diatribe against cyclists, though in this city, they are at least as often a source of aggravation as the drivers. But the fact is, it's much more difficult to seriously hurt somebody else when you're riding a bike as compared to if you're driving a car, and cyclists are my tribe.
I am also not going to regurgitate a bunch of sanctimonious shit about how noble is the bicycle and how relaxing is the commute by bike, and how you should do it because it will make you a better person. Is all that true? Well, yes. Does saying that shit make you sound like an insufferable pedant? Goddamned right it does. And you know what is not likely to get more people riding bikes? Insufferable pedants.
No, what I'm going to attempt to do is explain why I follow traffic control devices in this sea of anarchy, for reasons that are less often articulated by the insufferable pedants out there.
The last intersection I cross to get home is a big one, and because this is an Up And Coming Bike City, making a left through this intersection on a bike is fucking impossible unless you get on the sidewalk and use the crosswalk signal. So I'm almost home, pull onto the sidewalk, and as I usually do, I swing my bike around the pole that has the walk signal button on it. When I do this, I wind up pointing straight across the cross walk, so when I get the signal, I just let go of the pole and pedal off. It also means that, as I'm swinging my bike into position, it looks like I may be darting into the intersection. As I was making this maneuver the other day, I happened to make eye contact with the driver of a cement truck as it went past me. I heard the tone of his gigantic engine change, heard the brakes, made eye contact, and I saw the absolute terror in his eyes.
Because he thought I was pulling out into the crosswalk. He thought he was about to commit vehicular manslaughter.
This is why I obey traffic control devices. Because it's an attempt to meet a benchmark for predictability, and when you are predictable, you are safer. The terror in the drivers eyes was because, if I had proceeded into the intersection, against the traffic control device, I would've been behaving in an unpredictable manner. I would've taken him by surprise, so much so that he wouldn't have been able to do anything and he would've squashed me.
Let me reiterate this: When you are obeying traffic control devices, you are behaving in a predictable manner, and behaving in a predictable manner makes you safer.
It's like interacting with wild animals: no sudden movements.
Now, am I saying I've never rolled a red light? Of course not, I'm not a fucking traffic angel. But when I do, it's after I've stopped, surveyed the intersection, and ascertained that there are no cars around. That's right. If there are cars, even if they're half a block away, I stop. Because that's what's expected. Because that's predictable behavior. Because, dare I say it, that is respectable behavior, and isn't that we bicycle martyrs are always harping about, being respected?
Well how the fuck can we expect to be respected if we don't behave in a respectable manner?!
And this is why it drives me crazy when I see cyclists blowing stop signs. You're fucking it up for everybody. Drivers don't see individual cyclists misbehaving. They see a culture of disrespect for the law, and it pisses them off because if they behaved like that, there would be consequences. You do not earn respect by pissing people off.
So just ride your fucking bike, and for fuck's sake, stop at the fucking stop signs.
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
My PF30 Creaks... We Have a Cream For That
About that Evolution of the BB string I've been neglecting: fuck it. I still think it's interesting, but I think I made the point I was trying to make, and neither you nor I really care to take it any further. To sum it up: bicycles, like organisms, are subject to competitive pressure, and the "fittest" designs will succeed when others fail. In the bike industry, the following are pretty generally accepted as competitive pressures:
It seems that, without really thinking about it, I've come up with a catch phrase: "Just ride your fucking bike." This sums up pretty well how I feel about bikes and what you should do with them, but it occurred to me the other day that some are no so lucky as to be able to do that.
"My bike is creaking again. When I stand up or put a lot of pressure on the pedals. And it's feeling kind of sluggish..."
This is a great customer of ours. Let's call her Karen. I roll Karen's bike (carbon, recognizable brand that's not one of the Big 5, PF30 BB, Red cranks) and toss it on the stand. This is not the first time it's been in for creaking. Fuck, this could be the 5th or 6th time we've had it in for creaking.
I derail the chain and give the cranks a spin. Smooth as a baby's ass. I check the brakes and wheels. Wheels true, no rubbing anywhere. I tactfully let Karen know that, as far as I can tell with an admittedly cursory examination, the sluggishness is either tire pressure or her motor. She concedes it could be the motor. Great, but we still haven't addressed the creak.
That fucking PF30 bottom bracket.
Let me say this up front: the PF30 makes sense on several levels, but I do not believe it is a superior "standard" for most riders. Take Karen for instance. She's an enthusiast, puts on a respectable amount of miles every year, does a few long disease-type rides, and she's fucking loaded. She is absolutely not competitive. But she's riding a carbon bike, deep dish carbon wheels with 20/24 spokes, and light components. We tell ourselves that this is a great all-around bike, but that's not fucking true - it's a race bike. Karen wants to just ride her fucking bike, but she can't for more than 10 miles before it starts creaking again.
I try to explain that sometimes, bikes make noise and it's OK and it's normal. I tell her about my Salsa Spearfish, a great bike, and all the noises it makes (brakes, BB, suspension). She's having none of it, and then I realize it: we're both stuck, she and I. She's got a bike that's poorly suited to the kind of riding she does, and I'm stuck trying to polish that turd. I'm an experienced mechanic, so I'm better equipped to hear and diagnose, to decide what needs attention and what's normal, but she is not. I can't tell her to ignore the noises (even if she was willing to do that, which she is not) because sometimes, there are noises that do need attention lest something expensive break. We didn't sell her the bike, so I can't even tell her that I can take measurements and talk to the manufacturer to see if the BB shell is within spec.
We could blame the bike manufacturer, as so many internet douchebags do. We could blame an unscrupulous sales person. We could blame SRAM.
But I blame us (except for Grant Peterson).
We did this to ourselves. We allowed ourselves to be convinced that we all needed lighterstifferfaster to get to the fucking coffee shop and to do our once-a-year disease ride, and we started to believe that a 15 pound bike made a difference when we're 30 pounds overweight, and we expected the poor fucking bike mechanics to be able to fix our silly-light wheels when they were designed for 120 pound climbing phenoms with a van full of team mechanics who are ready to tear down his bike at the end of the day.
Well fuck that shit. I'm opening a bike shop. It's called No Bullshit Bikes. You come talk to me. We'll sit down over a cup of coffee or a beer, and you'll tell me what kind of riding you like to do, and you're going to be fucking honest with me, you understand? Don't ask for fucking Zipp 303s if all you do is ride the MS150. And then I'm going to call on my decades of experience, and I'm going to put you on the bike that best suits your riding, and you're going to fucking trust me, you understand? And when I quote you the price, you're not going to fucking balk, because you understand it's an investment, and it's not a fucking toy. And you will NOT cite a fucking internet forum as evidence in support of what you do or don't want, you fucking bastard. And your bike's going to work for a long time, and when things go wrong, it will be because stuff wore out after the expected amount of time, and I'll fix it for you for a reasonable fee. And you know what? You wanna know what the best fucking thing is?
YOU'RE GOING TO LOVE YOUR FUCKING BIKE, AND THEN YOU CAN JUST GO AND FUCKING RIDE IT.
- Weight
- "Stiffness" which is really a measure of efficiency
- Cost
- Aesthetics
- Aerodynamics
- Durability
- Other
It seems that, without really thinking about it, I've come up with a catch phrase: "Just ride your fucking bike." This sums up pretty well how I feel about bikes and what you should do with them, but it occurred to me the other day that some are no so lucky as to be able to do that.
"My bike is creaking again. When I stand up or put a lot of pressure on the pedals. And it's feeling kind of sluggish..."
This is a great customer of ours. Let's call her Karen. I roll Karen's bike (carbon, recognizable brand that's not one of the Big 5, PF30 BB, Red cranks) and toss it on the stand. This is not the first time it's been in for creaking. Fuck, this could be the 5th or 6th time we've had it in for creaking.
I derail the chain and give the cranks a spin. Smooth as a baby's ass. I check the brakes and wheels. Wheels true, no rubbing anywhere. I tactfully let Karen know that, as far as I can tell with an admittedly cursory examination, the sluggishness is either tire pressure or her motor. She concedes it could be the motor. Great, but we still haven't addressed the creak.
That fucking PF30 bottom bracket.
Let me say this up front: the PF30 makes sense on several levels, but I do not believe it is a superior "standard" for most riders. Take Karen for instance. She's an enthusiast, puts on a respectable amount of miles every year, does a few long disease-type rides, and she's fucking loaded. She is absolutely not competitive. But she's riding a carbon bike, deep dish carbon wheels with 20/24 spokes, and light components. We tell ourselves that this is a great all-around bike, but that's not fucking true - it's a race bike. Karen wants to just ride her fucking bike, but she can't for more than 10 miles before it starts creaking again.
I try to explain that sometimes, bikes make noise and it's OK and it's normal. I tell her about my Salsa Spearfish, a great bike, and all the noises it makes (brakes, BB, suspension). She's having none of it, and then I realize it: we're both stuck, she and I. She's got a bike that's poorly suited to the kind of riding she does, and I'm stuck trying to polish that turd. I'm an experienced mechanic, so I'm better equipped to hear and diagnose, to decide what needs attention and what's normal, but she is not. I can't tell her to ignore the noises (even if she was willing to do that, which she is not) because sometimes, there are noises that do need attention lest something expensive break. We didn't sell her the bike, so I can't even tell her that I can take measurements and talk to the manufacturer to see if the BB shell is within spec.
We could blame the bike manufacturer, as so many internet douchebags do. We could blame an unscrupulous sales person. We could blame SRAM.
But I blame us (except for Grant Peterson).
We did this to ourselves. We allowed ourselves to be convinced that we all needed lighterstifferfaster to get to the fucking coffee shop and to do our once-a-year disease ride, and we started to believe that a 15 pound bike made a difference when we're 30 pounds overweight, and we expected the poor fucking bike mechanics to be able to fix our silly-light wheels when they were designed for 120 pound climbing phenoms with a van full of team mechanics who are ready to tear down his bike at the end of the day.
Well fuck that shit. I'm opening a bike shop. It's called No Bullshit Bikes. You come talk to me. We'll sit down over a cup of coffee or a beer, and you'll tell me what kind of riding you like to do, and you're going to be fucking honest with me, you understand? Don't ask for fucking Zipp 303s if all you do is ride the MS150. And then I'm going to call on my decades of experience, and I'm going to put you on the bike that best suits your riding, and you're going to fucking trust me, you understand? And when I quote you the price, you're not going to fucking balk, because you understand it's an investment, and it's not a fucking toy. And you will NOT cite a fucking internet forum as evidence in support of what you do or don't want, you fucking bastard. And your bike's going to work for a long time, and when things go wrong, it will be because stuff wore out after the expected amount of time, and I'll fix it for you for a reasonable fee. And you know what? You wanna know what the best fucking thing is?
YOU'RE GOING TO LOVE YOUR FUCKING BIKE, AND THEN YOU CAN JUST GO AND FUCKING RIDE IT.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
The Secret Bike Mechanic
Goddamit, sometimes life just slaps you. You know when you're doing something you really enjoy and believe it's something for which you have some talent, and then you find somebody who's doing it much better than you can hope to? Yeah, like that. Several astute readers forwarded the following along, and I'm going to plagiarize it, because why the fuck did this guy stop writing? Yeah, I'm going to copy and paste straight from his blog in the hope he gets pissed off and sends me a C and D, just so I can get in contact with him to tell him to pick up the damn pen.
A customer in a small, independent delicatessen asks whether they
have an apple pie available, freshly-baked but ready to go now. The
proprietor replies that unfortunately they don't, but says he could
certainly add one to his baking list for her, ready for collection
tomorrow. The customer decides that's too long to wait and remarks that
in any case the price seems a bit steep when she could easily just make
an apple crumble herself. She buys some rolled oats, a bag of flour and
several cooking apples, and asks the shopkeeper whether he has any
advice on crumble baking. He mentions that it's good to stew the apples
a little beforehand but cautions against overcooking it, and wishes
her the best of luck with hers.
The next day the customer returns and berates the shopkeeper.
"Those apples you sold me were horrible, they're really bitter. And there must have been something wrong with the flour or the oats, the crumble was completely dry and tasteless. What kind of refund can you give me?"
The shopkeeper, somewhat taken aback, apologises and says if there is a problem with the flour of course she can have a refund, but he's not had any other complaints, and he even uses the same flour himself. He enquires what kind of sugar she used in the crumble, and how much she added to the cooking apples.
"What, you need sugar in crumble?" she replies. "You forgot to give me any sugar yesterday when I asked you how to make it."
Trying to remain polite, the shopkeeper explains:
"Well, to he honest I assumed that if you were making it yourself you'd know more or less what ingredients were needed. We do sell recipe books if that would help..."
"No, no, they're too expensive. I'll just take that bag of sugar you mentioned and try again this evening" says the customer.
"Certainly, madam" says the shopkeeper, "that'll be £1.50 please".
"Oh." says the customer, clearly displeased. "Doesn't it come with the apples, seeing as they're so bitter?"
"No. Er, no. It's a separate item I'm afraid." says the shopkeeper, almost lost for words.
"Can you at least give me a refund on the apples, seeing as they're wasted now?" the customer persists.
"Well I'm sorry, but no, not really." says he. "The apples themselves didn't really have anything wrong with them did they?"
"I'm not stupid" retorts the customer, apparently offended. "I can cook pasta and I've made loads of pot noodles. I've just not baked an actual crumble before. I don't suppose you could just quickly show me how could you? Or just quickly do it for me now, seeing as I'm buying all the ingredients from you?"
"I'm really sorry, but I don't have time". Says the shopkeeper. "I've got loads of orders for other customers still to make, and this gentleman here is waiting for me to serve him".
But fearing that he's now sounded too unhelpful, before the customer leaves the shopkeeper just checks whether she's got enough butter for her crumble mix.
"I need butter as well?" asks the woman, incredulous. Then a suspicion crosses her mind: "You're not just trying to sell me more stuff now are you?"
Remembering the customer's original request, the shopkeeper decides to change tack. He gently suggests:
"If you prefer, I could bake you an apple pie for tomorrow. In fact it might even work out cheaper than separately buying all..."
"Oh yes, I saw your pies yesterday" the customer interrupts, "but then I found out you can get them in ASDA for 59p."
* * *
Does the customer sound unreasonable?
Substitute:
"delicatessen" for "bike shop";
"flour", "oats" and "apples" for "wheel", "tyre" and "inner tube";
"sugar" for "rim tape";
and "butter" for "tyre levers";
and all will become clear.
Funny what's considered acceptable in a bike shop isn't it?
How not to make apple crumble
The next day the customer returns and berates the shopkeeper.
"Those apples you sold me were horrible, they're really bitter. And there must have been something wrong with the flour or the oats, the crumble was completely dry and tasteless. What kind of refund can you give me?"
The shopkeeper, somewhat taken aback, apologises and says if there is a problem with the flour of course she can have a refund, but he's not had any other complaints, and he even uses the same flour himself. He enquires what kind of sugar she used in the crumble, and how much she added to the cooking apples.
"What, you need sugar in crumble?" she replies. "You forgot to give me any sugar yesterday when I asked you how to make it."
Trying to remain polite, the shopkeeper explains:
"Well, to he honest I assumed that if you were making it yourself you'd know more or less what ingredients were needed. We do sell recipe books if that would help..."
"No, no, they're too expensive. I'll just take that bag of sugar you mentioned and try again this evening" says the customer.
"Certainly, madam" says the shopkeeper, "that'll be £1.50 please".
"Oh." says the customer, clearly displeased. "Doesn't it come with the apples, seeing as they're so bitter?"
"No. Er, no. It's a separate item I'm afraid." says the shopkeeper, almost lost for words.
"Can you at least give me a refund on the apples, seeing as they're wasted now?" the customer persists.
"Well I'm sorry, but no, not really." says he. "The apples themselves didn't really have anything wrong with them did they?"
"I'm not stupid" retorts the customer, apparently offended. "I can cook pasta and I've made loads of pot noodles. I've just not baked an actual crumble before. I don't suppose you could just quickly show me how could you? Or just quickly do it for me now, seeing as I'm buying all the ingredients from you?"
"I'm really sorry, but I don't have time". Says the shopkeeper. "I've got loads of orders for other customers still to make, and this gentleman here is waiting for me to serve him".
But fearing that he's now sounded too unhelpful, before the customer leaves the shopkeeper just checks whether she's got enough butter for her crumble mix.
"I need butter as well?" asks the woman, incredulous. Then a suspicion crosses her mind: "You're not just trying to sell me more stuff now are you?"
Remembering the customer's original request, the shopkeeper decides to change tack. He gently suggests:
"If you prefer, I could bake you an apple pie for tomorrow. In fact it might even work out cheaper than separately buying all..."
"Oh yes, I saw your pies yesterday" the customer interrupts, "but then I found out you can get them in ASDA for 59p."
* * *
Does the customer sound unreasonable?
Substitute:
"delicatessen" for "bike shop";
"flour", "oats" and "apples" for "wheel", "tyre" and "inner tube";
"sugar" for "rim tape";
and "butter" for "tyre levers";
and all will become clear.
Funny what's considered acceptable in a bike shop isn't it?
Thursday, August 15, 2013
The "W" Word
"Yes, my bike has a kickstand on it, and the little foot at the bottom of the kickstand fell off, so my bike fell over onto a post and it dented the top tube. I'd like it considered for..."
I'm thinking, "Don't say it. Don't you dare let that fucking word escape your lips..."
"Warranty."
Goddamnit. Even when the claim is legitimate, I hate the W-word. There has never been a positive discussion around the warranty of a product, unless you shop at good ol' REI, in which case you could return an item they've never sold, or because you change your mind, or because you're a douchebag, or if you have a SRAM product, in which case they seem to have a shotgun approach to quality control, in which they anticipate a 50% return rate and plan accordingly. I've heard Campy had a no questions asked warranty policy in the good ol' days as well, but I'm gonna corral this before it turns into a full blown, no holds barred, back when people had ethics, retrogrouchathon, but it does illustrate what a warranty is for, and what it is not for.
Read most warranties, and you will come across the following or something similar: "This item is guaranteed for X years from date of purchase against defects in materials or worksmanship."
Don't get me wrong. I believe in protecting consumers, which is what a warranty is supposed to do. That's where the clause, "defects in materials or worksmanship" come into play. What that says is, "Hey, if we fucked this up, we'll make it right. Mea culpa."
What it does not say is, "Hey, we'll replace your shit even if it broke because you were any or all of the above: stupid, willfully ignorant, abusive, unlucky, and/or negligent." Take some responsibility for the care and upkeep of your shit. Pay attention to it, or make friends with people who will.
And always, always remember: SHIT HAPPENS.
I'm thinking, "Don't say it. Don't you dare let that fucking word escape your lips..."
"Warranty."
Goddamnit. Even when the claim is legitimate, I hate the W-word. There has never been a positive discussion around the warranty of a product, unless you shop at good ol' REI, in which case you could return an item they've never sold, or because you change your mind, or because you're a douchebag, or if you have a SRAM product, in which case they seem to have a shotgun approach to quality control, in which they anticipate a 50% return rate and plan accordingly. I've heard Campy had a no questions asked warranty policy in the good ol' days as well, but I'm gonna corral this before it turns into a full blown, no holds barred, back when people had ethics, retrogrouchathon, but it does illustrate what a warranty is for, and what it is not for.
Read most warranties, and you will come across the following or something similar: "This item is guaranteed for X years from date of purchase against defects in materials or worksmanship."
Don't get me wrong. I believe in protecting consumers, which is what a warranty is supposed to do. That's where the clause, "defects in materials or worksmanship" come into play. What that says is, "Hey, if we fucked this up, we'll make it right. Mea culpa."
What it does not say is, "Hey, we'll replace your shit even if it broke because you were any or all of the above: stupid, willfully ignorant, abusive, unlucky, and/or negligent." Take some responsibility for the care and upkeep of your shit. Pay attention to it, or make friends with people who will.
And always, always remember: SHIT HAPPENS.
Monday, August 5, 2013
My Flat Tire Schema, Continued
"Hi, I was hoping you could help me pick out a tube."
"Sure. What size?"
"Seven hundred by twenty-three."
"OK. Presta or Schraeder?"
"Presta."
"Here you go."
"I'd also like to lodge a complaint."
I thought, "Yeah, well go fuck yourself. Or find somebody who's going to give a shit. They amount to the same thing as far as I'm concerned."
I said, "OK, what's going on?"
"Well, a while ago, one of you guys, I don't remember which, fixed a flat tire for me..."
I was afraid at this point he was going to tell me about a flat tire he'd gotten weeks or months after we'd allegedly fixed a flat for him and claim it was somehow our fault, as if a responsible bike shop would've installed a magic force field that would clear debris from the path of the tire. That is the kind of shit up with which the ABW does not put.
But, it turns out he had a legitimate claim, maybe. He got a flat, and when the mechanic was changing it, he said the tube was pinched between the tire and rim. I know it happens, although when it does, at least on a road tire, the pressure blows everything up before the wheel makes it back on the bike, or the mechanic notices the growing bulge, quickly rolls the wheel out onto the sales floor, dives behind the counter, and covers his ears. Ha ha, fuck you sales guys.
But, I know if the pinch is small enough, and the bead tight enough, it can happen like he claimed it happened, and that is no es bueno at all. Imagine what could/would finally cause that tire to blow: increased pressure. The kind of increased pressure that might be generated by heating the air in the tube. The kind of heat that might be generated by a wheel sitting in a hot car.
Or by heavy braking because the bike is being piloted down mountain switchbacks. No es bueno at all.
Thankfully, none of that happened, and I'm feeling like the grumpy douche I am for wanting to punch this guy in the throat for bringing up what sounds like a legitimate issue. We then got to talking about the frustrations of flat tires, and how they seem to travel in packs. This guy never got flats until he got that first flat, and then he got three in a couple months.
I could relate. Believe it or don't, but I almost never get flat tires. I used to tell myself some bullshit about how in tune I was with whatever garbage I had to ride over, and somehow telepathically guided my tires around the nasty bits capable of causing punctures. Maybe. As I get older, my ego gets more wrinkled and saggy, and I'd feel more comfortable making claims like that if somebody could show me data proving I actually get fewer flats than average, but I digress.
Last week, I got a flat on my bar bike. It was a speedy one. I could hear the leak when on the bike, and had to walk a couple blocks back home. Because in addition to being an egomaniac I am also a magnificently cheap bastard, I brewed myself a cup of coffee and sat down to patch the hole. 15 minutes later, I'm back in business.
On the very next ride, same exact fucking thing happens. Now, I had inflated the tube and found the hole. Marked it with Sharpie. Lined it up to the hot patch on the tire and tried to find the offending sharp object. Nada. Flipped tube 180 degrees. Still nada. I then carefully did the ol' visuotactile examination, running my hands carefully through the inside of the tire while looking at the outside. As is so often the case, I found nothing and assumed whatever had punctured the tube was gone.
After the second flat, I did the same thing - inflated the tube, found the hole, and noted with glee that it was EXACTLY the same distance from the valve stem in the opposite direction from the first hole. Now that's some data bitches. This time, I turned the tire inside out, and there it was: a honkin' big piece of glass that had so neatly cut the tread it was fully encased in the rubber when viewed from the outside, but (I'm assuming) only extended into the interior of the tire when under load. I dug it out and sealed up the cut with some super glue, patched the second hole, and slept well that night knowing I'd solved that issue.
What's my point? FLAT TIRES FUCKING HAPPEN. Even with my telepathic ability to ride between punctures, and my superhuman mechanical skills, and my Sherlockian powers of deduction, they happen. If you can't accept that, riding bikes is going to be a whole lot less enjoyable. Learn how to fix a flat. Carry what you need to fix one on the road, or don't ride any further than you want to walk. If you're buying a bike and the sales person doesn't mention this, find another bike shop. If they do, they are not trying to rip you off.
And then ride your fucking bike.
"Sure. What size?"
"Seven hundred by twenty-three."
"OK. Presta or Schraeder?"
"Presta."
"Here you go."
"I'd also like to lodge a complaint."
I thought, "Yeah, well go fuck yourself. Or find somebody who's going to give a shit. They amount to the same thing as far as I'm concerned."
I said, "OK, what's going on?"
"Well, a while ago, one of you guys, I don't remember which, fixed a flat tire for me..."
I was afraid at this point he was going to tell me about a flat tire he'd gotten weeks or months after we'd allegedly fixed a flat for him and claim it was somehow our fault, as if a responsible bike shop would've installed a magic force field that would clear debris from the path of the tire. That is the kind of shit up with which the ABW does not put.
But, it turns out he had a legitimate claim, maybe. He got a flat, and when the mechanic was changing it, he said the tube was pinched between the tire and rim. I know it happens, although when it does, at least on a road tire, the pressure blows everything up before the wheel makes it back on the bike, or the mechanic notices the growing bulge, quickly rolls the wheel out onto the sales floor, dives behind the counter, and covers his ears. Ha ha, fuck you sales guys.
But, I know if the pinch is small enough, and the bead tight enough, it can happen like he claimed it happened, and that is no es bueno at all. Imagine what could/would finally cause that tire to blow: increased pressure. The kind of increased pressure that might be generated by heating the air in the tube. The kind of heat that might be generated by a wheel sitting in a hot car.
Or by heavy braking because the bike is being piloted down mountain switchbacks. No es bueno at all.
Thankfully, none of that happened, and I'm feeling like the grumpy douche I am for wanting to punch this guy in the throat for bringing up what sounds like a legitimate issue. We then got to talking about the frustrations of flat tires, and how they seem to travel in packs. This guy never got flats until he got that first flat, and then he got three in a couple months.
I could relate. Believe it or don't, but I almost never get flat tires. I used to tell myself some bullshit about how in tune I was with whatever garbage I had to ride over, and somehow telepathically guided my tires around the nasty bits capable of causing punctures. Maybe. As I get older, my ego gets more wrinkled and saggy, and I'd feel more comfortable making claims like that if somebody could show me data proving I actually get fewer flats than average, but I digress.
Last week, I got a flat on my bar bike. It was a speedy one. I could hear the leak when on the bike, and had to walk a couple blocks back home. Because in addition to being an egomaniac I am also a magnificently cheap bastard, I brewed myself a cup of coffee and sat down to patch the hole. 15 minutes later, I'm back in business.
On the very next ride, same exact fucking thing happens. Now, I had inflated the tube and found the hole. Marked it with Sharpie. Lined it up to the hot patch on the tire and tried to find the offending sharp object. Nada. Flipped tube 180 degrees. Still nada. I then carefully did the ol' visuotactile examination, running my hands carefully through the inside of the tire while looking at the outside. As is so often the case, I found nothing and assumed whatever had punctured the tube was gone.
After the second flat, I did the same thing - inflated the tube, found the hole, and noted with glee that it was EXACTLY the same distance from the valve stem in the opposite direction from the first hole. Now that's some data bitches. This time, I turned the tire inside out, and there it was: a honkin' big piece of glass that had so neatly cut the tread it was fully encased in the rubber when viewed from the outside, but (I'm assuming) only extended into the interior of the tire when under load. I dug it out and sealed up the cut with some super glue, patched the second hole, and slept well that night knowing I'd solved that issue.
What's my point? FLAT TIRES FUCKING HAPPEN. Even with my telepathic ability to ride between punctures, and my superhuman mechanical skills, and my Sherlockian powers of deduction, they happen. If you can't accept that, riding bikes is going to be a whole lot less enjoyable. Learn how to fix a flat. Carry what you need to fix one on the road, or don't ride any further than you want to walk. If you're buying a bike and the sales person doesn't mention this, find another bike shop. If they do, they are not trying to rip you off.
And then ride your fucking bike.
Friday, July 26, 2013
BB "Standards": Square to Spline
Last post, we covered a little about evolution and the first branch of the BB Tree of Life: between cottered cranks and square taper cranks. This post, we're going to dig a little deeper into the competitive pressures exerted on BB systems and talk about why ISIS (and others) are the next logical branch on the BB Tree of Life. But first:
Evolution. The gradual change in expressed genes due to the inherent advantage conferred by those traits over competing traits. In the bike industry, it is the gradual change in the characteristics of technical systems due to advantages inherent in those systems as compared to other, competing systems. In biology, competitive advantage is mind bogglingly broad. It could be defined as faster, slower, shorter, stronger, lighter in color, etc. It's not even worth trying to sort it out without context.
In the bike industry, it's a little easier. I'd say the following are pretty generally accepted as competitive pressures:
So at some point in the past, the limitations of the cottered crank became apparent, and gave rise to the square taper BB system. The square taper BB was much better, but because competitive pressures are relative, it was only a matter of time before somebody developed something "better." In the case of bicycles, the pattern is to address the weakest link first, making it better, which exposes the next weakest link. Prior to the 80s, bikes were made of relatively narrow diameter steel tubing. Even the nicest frames would be considered "flexy" by today's standards, so the stiffness of the BB system was not the weakest link in the chain of performance, and since they were durable and inexpensive, they didn't get a lot of attention.
With the rise of alternative frame materials and larger diameter tubes, frames stopped being the most flexible (i.e. least efficient) component of the bicycle and other components started getting scrutinized, and at some point, some rider or manufacturer realized his (because during the time period in question, you can be sure it was a him) square taper BB was too flexible. A high school physics student knows that larger diameter tubes are stiffer, and since they are stiffer, can use less material, which if done properly, can actually make a stiffer component that is also lighter (a lesson Cannondale and Klein capitalized on with their oversized aluminum frames).
With frame stiffness increasing, all other components would be scrutinized, and the BB was a logical place to focus since it's amongst the first mechanisms transferring the force from the legs into forward motion. How do you make it stiffer? You take a cue from physics and use a spindle that's larger diameter. The first to try this was Magic Motorcycle Components with their crankset that was later licensed by Cannondale under their CODA brand name.
You want to talk about a design ahead of its time? Look into these cranks. I hesitate to bring them up because the design of these cranks jumps so many steps we need to examine. But hey, they were the first to try a larger diameter crank spindle.
In the interest of keeping these digestible, we'll leave it there for now. Do some digging on Magic Motorcycle and be prepared to be amazed. Next time we'll talk about Octalink and why Magic Motorcycle/CODA didn't succeed.
Evolution. The gradual change in expressed genes due to the inherent advantage conferred by those traits over competing traits. In the bike industry, it is the gradual change in the characteristics of technical systems due to advantages inherent in those systems as compared to other, competing systems. In biology, competitive advantage is mind bogglingly broad. It could be defined as faster, slower, shorter, stronger, lighter in color, etc. It's not even worth trying to sort it out without context.
In the bike industry, it's a little easier. I'd say the following are pretty generally accepted as competitive pressures:
- Weight
- "Stiffness" which is really a measure of efficiency
- Cost
- Aesthetics
- Aerodynamics
- Durability
- Other
So at some point in the past, the limitations of the cottered crank became apparent, and gave rise to the square taper BB system. The square taper BB was much better, but because competitive pressures are relative, it was only a matter of time before somebody developed something "better." In the case of bicycles, the pattern is to address the weakest link first, making it better, which exposes the next weakest link. Prior to the 80s, bikes were made of relatively narrow diameter steel tubing. Even the nicest frames would be considered "flexy" by today's standards, so the stiffness of the BB system was not the weakest link in the chain of performance, and since they were durable and inexpensive, they didn't get a lot of attention.
With the rise of alternative frame materials and larger diameter tubes, frames stopped being the most flexible (i.e. least efficient) component of the bicycle and other components started getting scrutinized, and at some point, some rider or manufacturer realized his (because during the time period in question, you can be sure it was a him) square taper BB was too flexible. A high school physics student knows that larger diameter tubes are stiffer, and since they are stiffer, can use less material, which if done properly, can actually make a stiffer component that is also lighter (a lesson Cannondale and Klein capitalized on with their oversized aluminum frames).
With frame stiffness increasing, all other components would be scrutinized, and the BB was a logical place to focus since it's amongst the first mechanisms transferring the force from the legs into forward motion. How do you make it stiffer? You take a cue from physics and use a spindle that's larger diameter. The first to try this was Magic Motorcycle Components with their crankset that was later licensed by Cannondale under their CODA brand name.
You want to talk about a design ahead of its time? Look into these cranks. I hesitate to bring them up because the design of these cranks jumps so many steps we need to examine. But hey, they were the first to try a larger diameter crank spindle.
In the interest of keeping these digestible, we'll leave it there for now. Do some digging on Magic Motorcycle and be prepared to be amazed. Next time we'll talk about Octalink and why Magic Motorcycle/CODA didn't succeed.
Thursday, July 18, 2013
You're doin' it wrong
Going to pause the BB "Standard" Evolution/Bitching essays for a post about doing it wrong in all the right ways.
A couple weeks ago, I was lucky enough to attend a party that started with a mountain bike ride. I had to fly to get there, which meant I was going to borrow a bike because flying with a bike and/or shipping a bike in any way is way fucking expensive. I don't really have any problems with borrowing bikes; in fact, I think it's a great way to experience bikes that I don't want or can't afford. But there are certain parts of my personal bikes that really are personal - shoes/pedals and helmet. But, these are heavy and take up a lot of space in a suitcase. With airlines charging for any checked bags these days, that means if I fly, I'm usually not going to be bringing shoes and pedals.
So for this trip, I packed my "workout shoes" which is to say the shoes I wear when I want to look like I'm going to work out, am working out, or just finished working out. They're sporty. They're also of the new minimal school and are not far removed from being barefoot. They're flexy. I also packed one pair of bib shorts.
And that's it. I had "prepared" for this ride by bringing shorts and barefoot running shoes. You're doin' it wrong.
The bike I was borrowing was fuggin amazing. Fully rigid single speed, ti, light, lively, awesome. Not a bike I could ever afford, ever. We screwed on some plastic platform pedals in the parking lot. From this friend I also borrowed a helmet. Found out later it belongs to his wife. She's understanding. Also on this ride was my brother, who I found out later had never ridden a bike off road before. On top of that, his bike was purchased when he was graduating high school about 50 years ago. It's a Raleigh M40 with the old Shimano cantilever brakes whose plastic spring carriers all broke. It was completely bone stock down to the brake pads and Greenfield kickstand. Oh, did I mention my brother and I are both 6'2" tall? It's a 16 or 17 inch frame.
So there it is; no gloves, no clipless, no water, no food. Just me, a chamois, a bike, and a brother even more poorly equipped than me. Read the mags. Take your pick of any of the trash out there and they'll say you're doing it wrong.
Know what? IT WAS FUCKING AWESOME. I'm not saying all the shit that goes with riding can't be fun, or that it doesn't affect the ride experience for the better. But it just doesn't matter in the end. Even when I swapped bikes with my brother and found myself on that shitty, tiny, heavy bike, it didn't matter. I was still having a blast.
So just ride your fucking bike. Feel like it's too smallheavyshittyuglycheap? Try riding it. While you're riding, STOP THINKING ABOUT THE BIKE. Look around. Smile at the people you see. Stop to appreciate the skylinehorizonmountainsflowershotchicks. True story - if you're appreciating the experience, the bike and all the shit that go with it just become tiny, insignificant details.
Just ride your fucking bike!
A couple weeks ago, I was lucky enough to attend a party that started with a mountain bike ride. I had to fly to get there, which meant I was going to borrow a bike because flying with a bike and/or shipping a bike in any way is way fucking expensive. I don't really have any problems with borrowing bikes; in fact, I think it's a great way to experience bikes that I don't want or can't afford. But there are certain parts of my personal bikes that really are personal - shoes/pedals and helmet. But, these are heavy and take up a lot of space in a suitcase. With airlines charging for any checked bags these days, that means if I fly, I'm usually not going to be bringing shoes and pedals.
So for this trip, I packed my "workout shoes" which is to say the shoes I wear when I want to look like I'm going to work out, am working out, or just finished working out. They're sporty. They're also of the new minimal school and are not far removed from being barefoot. They're flexy. I also packed one pair of bib shorts.
And that's it. I had "prepared" for this ride by bringing shorts and barefoot running shoes. You're doin' it wrong.
The bike I was borrowing was fuggin amazing. Fully rigid single speed, ti, light, lively, awesome. Not a bike I could ever afford, ever. We screwed on some plastic platform pedals in the parking lot. From this friend I also borrowed a helmet. Found out later it belongs to his wife. She's understanding. Also on this ride was my brother, who I found out later had never ridden a bike off road before. On top of that, his bike was purchased when he was graduating high school about 50 years ago. It's a Raleigh M40 with the old Shimano cantilever brakes whose plastic spring carriers all broke. It was completely bone stock down to the brake pads and Greenfield kickstand. Oh, did I mention my brother and I are both 6'2" tall? It's a 16 or 17 inch frame.
So there it is; no gloves, no clipless, no water, no food. Just me, a chamois, a bike, and a brother even more poorly equipped than me. Read the mags. Take your pick of any of the trash out there and they'll say you're doing it wrong.
Know what? IT WAS FUCKING AWESOME. I'm not saying all the shit that goes with riding can't be fun, or that it doesn't affect the ride experience for the better. But it just doesn't matter in the end. Even when I swapped bikes with my brother and found myself on that shitty, tiny, heavy bike, it didn't matter. I was still having a blast.
So just ride your fucking bike. Feel like it's too smallheavyshittyuglycheap? Try riding it. While you're riding, STOP THINKING ABOUT THE BIKE. Look around. Smile at the people you see. Stop to appreciate the skylinehorizonmountainsflowershotchicks. True story - if you're appreciating the experience, the bike and all the shit that go with it just become tiny, insignificant details.
Just ride your fucking bike!
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