BSNYC Field Trip: New York, NY!

As I mentioned in my previous post, yesterday I traveled the length of the Bronx and Manhattan astride a fixie-type bicycle:

The bicycle is from State, it is from their "Core-Line" of bicycles, and it is in my possession because I recently wrote about it for a certain magazine.  I'll let you know when that gets published (or maybe you can let me know if you come across it before I do), but in the meantime I've been using this as my urban runabout and I must say I'm enjoying it.  Not only does riding the sort of bike I used to deride bring me back to the heady days of "peak fixie" when my blog was still relevant, but the truth is I used to enjoy riding the fixed-gear bicycles myself, and in fact the Ironic Orange Julius Bike was generally fixed of gear back in its heyday:

See, my disdain was never for the drivetrain itself, it was for all the silliness that came with it:

So now that all of that has calmed down I find can enjoy riding one again without all the baggage--even if I'm a good 25 years too old for the aesthetic sensibility of this particular specimen.  (I did consider at least switching the wheels for some less flashy ones I've got laying around, but as soon as I started rummaging through my old drawer o' cogs I realized I didn't feel like it.)  Hey, I've got nothing to prove, and I'm quite comfortable with the fact that everything about a balding man riding around on a bone-stock mail order fixie screams, "Aging guy who reads too many lifestyle magazines giving this 'Bike to Work Week' thing a try."

Also, I have a soft spot for cheap bikes, and this one's even cheaper than the Brand-X I rode at Eroica California this year.  Speaking of which, I keep getting emails like this from Chain Reaction:

Little do they know I wrote a goddamn feature about the bike in Outside magazine.

Yes, in a world full of marketing firms and user reviews sometimes the best press still happens organically.  In fact, on yesterday's ride, as I pedaled along the Hudson River Greenway in a state of sun-and-fixie induced bliss, I noticed with my peripheral vision what appeared to be a gathering of Freds hosing down a fleet of exotic crabon bicycles:

I stopped to investigate.  A sign read "Roula: Cycling Experiences:"

And inside riders were indeed indulging in the most lavish act a New York City cyclist can possibly imagine, that being washing a bicycle outdoors with an actual hose:

Roula, as it turns out, is a company that leads rides and rents high-end Fred Sleds, among other services--and yes, you can also give your bike a sponge bath:

Back when I was edgy and relevant I'd no doubt have ridiculed such an operation, but at this current point in my life I'm this close [indicates tiny distance with fingers] to storing all my bikes with them myself.  Even doing the bare minimum as I do, bike maintenance and curation takes up a disproportionate amount of my scant free time, and I can't really blame anybody for wanting to outsource it, especially if they have the means.  And while paying a company to store your Pinarello Dogma may seem extravagant, I can respect it a hell of a lot more than leasing and garaging a Porsche Cayenne.  (And sure, plenty of people are probably doing both, but every dollar put into the bike industry is a dollar put into the bike industry.)

Of course, while there is still room in today's digital landscape for organic, real-time, physical-world discovery, there's still an entire industry based on bringing things to consumers' attention--and ironically I was on my way to a "media pop-up brand experience" when I happened upon Roula.  This too is something I'd certainly have disparaged when I was edgy and relevant, but now that I spend much of my time cueing up kiddie videos on YouTube I was quite grateful for an excuse to head downtown, ogle grown-up toys, and exchange words with other adults.  And while not everything was bikey, a lot of it was:

Bicycles on display included this one from Alchemy:

I'm just a caveman, and your dual-suspension bicycles frighten and confuse me.  Still, I'm happy to look at them, and this one had a whole asymmetrical chainstay thing going that was interesting in an M.C. Escher-esque kind of way:

There was also a Ritte Snob, the stainless steel bicycle that, to my knowledge, they've never acknowledged is a nod to me:

It looks great up close, and I'm going to assume they've addressed the cosmetic issues because my prototype looks pretty funky these days, as I've previously pointed out:

See?

Again, I must stress that my Ritte is an early prototype, and I have no reason whatsoever to assume that the current production Snobs, which appear to be very well-reviewed, are subject to the same corrosion.

Nevertheless, now that I have two unpainted metal bicycles, the Ritte will soon be moving onto the next chapter in its life, and I'll let you know when it does.

My favorite bicycle on display by far however was this one, which also happens to cost like 10 or 20 times less than the other two bikes:

This is State's new chromoly single-ring 8-speed road bike, and it costs $549.99.  Sure, with a little effort you could probably put together a vintage road bike for less, but this strikes me as a phenomenal deal for anybody who doesn't have the time, parts inventory, or general know-how to do so--which, let's be honest, is most people.  (I'm all in favor of ready-to-ride bikes.)  It's also really nice-looking, especially in person.  Granted, without steering it onto the cobbles I don't know how it does in the chain-retention department, and yes, there's no boss for adding a front downtube shifter (I guess they don't want to spoil those "clean lines), but assuming the chain stays on I smell a hit:

Oh, there was also this e-mountain bike from Specialized, which was positioned in such a way I couldn't get a good shot of it because I suck at photography:

But you already knew that:

A full-suspension e-MTB is so far beyond my purview I'm not even going to attempt to say anything meaningful about it, though I suppose if I lived in a chalet in the Swiss Alps and needed to get around my 100-hectare estate to check on my dairy cows this one would be at the top of my list:

Okay, I know what you're thinking: "You're a total sell-out, Tan Tenovo!  All that crap is douche-tastic."  Wrong!  They're just bikes!  You want douche-tastic?  Check out what they had outside:

The company is Himalaya, and they basically modernize and refurbish Defenders:

I don't know anything about Defenders apart from the fact that they're iconic vehicles with a cult following, so I'll leave it to the auto-Freds out there to pass judgment:

They definitely looked good, but they also seemed like the kind of thing you buy with our Axe Capital bonus and then drive once a year with your bros when you're out in the Hamptons:

Oh, they also do refurbished forklifts:

Just kidding.

Oh, I should add they did offer to let me drive one, and while I briefly considered it I ultimately declined, for the simple reason that I was kind of grossed out by the idea of driving a car that costs over $100,000 on the Bowery.

Anyway, they were smart to have the douche chariots on hand, because it made the offerings from Silca seem impossibly modest by comparison:

Sure, your hardware store hex keys may work fine, but do they come in a presentation box?

The real danger here is you get addicted to the sublimely balanced hand-feel of this exquisite toolset and wind up carrying this fucking thing around with you on every ride.

Oh, and if you're a terminal pressure weenie, here's the Bluetooth mini-pump you know you want:

Sorry, I did't mean "pressure weenie," I meant "discerning cyclist:"

It is a really nice pump though, and they do offer an old-fashioned analog version which, while not cheap, certainly isn't wildly expensive if you keep it for 20 years.  (I have a Blackburn mini pump older than that so I don't see why this wouldn't offer the same long-term value.)

As for the $70 titanium bottle cage, it's amusing to think that if you had four bikes and equipped each of them with two of these you'd have spent more than one of those State bikes costs:

Also on display were the full suite of CBD products from Floyd's of Leadville:

Artisanal nutrition from Osmo:

Hipster binoculars, because birdwatching is trendy now:

And of course "adventure deodorant:"

Because you gotta smell good when you're out cruising in your custom Defender:

Anyway, inasmuch as I spend most of my working hours on the couch wearing yesterday's clothes this dip into the frothy waters of consumerism was oddly invigorating, and even the many, many bike lane obstructions couldn't bring me down.

Then again, maybe it was all the CBD oil.

Ti A Fredly Ribbon...

Today I took a ride all the way downtown and back again, and I will tell you all about it in due course--or at least a little bit about it.

Oh yeah, I was also riding a fixie:

Dear Fixedgeargallery... pic.twitter.com/lq4A82rII5

— Bike Snob NYC (@bikesnobnyc) May 15, 2019

It's a zen thing, you wouldn't understand.

In the meantime, I've received the following request:

Gladly!

Maybe I'm still in the new-to-me-bike honeymoon phase, but I've ridden this thing almost every day since taking delivery and I must say I'm smitten with it in a way in which few bikes have ever smote me before.  (I'm not sure any of the preceding sentence makes any sense, but what do you want from a free blog?)  Granted, I have yet to conduct any scientific testing, but I'm beginning to suspect that maybe there is something to this whole "magical ride of titanium" thing.  In fact, I like the bike so much I almost regret getting it, because it's got me thinking.  For example, I also love this bike deeply:

So how much more would I love a Jones made out of titanium?

Sure, maybe you can't really tell the difference through those fat tires...but what if you can? 

Even worse, what happens if I become so addicted to titanium that I simply have to have it at all times?  First you're upgrading all of your bike holdings to titanium, and then before you know it you're putting a down payment on that titanium toothbrush.

Guess I'd better spend more time on that fixie, it's the only thing still keeping me honest.

At This Point Just Call Them All "Bikes" And Be Done With It

Firstly, I wrote words, and they're in the Transportation Alternatives magazine, Reclaim--though you can read them on Medium:

And of course there's always the Transportation Alternatives Bike Forecast, which is curated by none other than Your's Truley.

I truly do put the "semi" in "semi-professional bike blogger."

Secondly, as a middle-aged dad living in the cycling backwater known as New York City, I'm pretty out of it.  As such, I only just learned that Shimano has announced the world's first dedicated gravel component group:

I suppose there was a time when I'd made fun of this--you know, back when I was funny.  Now, however, I simply root for the bike companies whatever they're selling.  Gravel groups?  $1,100 hardtail mountain bikes for kids?  Fixed-gear carbon fiber gravel-specific recumbents for your laid-back bikepacking adventures?

Hey, as long as it's not a helmet, I say bring it on.

Moreover, as far as the gravel stuff goes, what's not to like?  I mean yes, it's easy to laugh at gravel-specific shorts, but if the Freds need a special word to make it okay to use clothing with more pockets then who am I to complain?  Plus, when it comes to drop-bar bikes, component makers have traditionally offered lots of nearly identical stuff that differs only in price.  Mechanically speaking, the differences between, say, Dura Ace and Ultegra are virtually meaningless.  So the fact that you can now have the option of a single-ring setup with a clutch derailleur that doesn't require any kludges or workarounds is pretty cool.

Granted, I'm not particularly crazy about the name--do you pronounce "GRX" as "Gurcks" or "Jerks?"--but that's just a minor detail.

Nevertheless, while I'm no longer particularly angry at the bike industry (there are much better industries to be angry at), I still find the cyclists themselves incredibly annoying.  Specifically, in perusing the comments sections on the various Internet posts about these new components, I've noticed disturbing new phenomenon:

Humblebragging about how low your gearing is.

See, it used to be that everyone was using gearing that was way too big, and that was annoying enough.  Now, however, it seems that everybody's running gears that are too small in order to prove what rugged terrain they ride and how much crap they carry.  As far as I can tell, with GRX you can run something like a 31 in the front and a 34 in the back, and yet I keep seeing commentary along the lines of, "This GRX gearing is not low enough!  I have three WolfTooth adapters on my long-cage derailleur so I can run a modified 53-tooth front chainring as my lowest gear in the rear, and I've got a 13-tooth rear cog bolted onto the spider of my front crank, which is what you really for the climbs around here--especially when you're carrying a pour-over coffee maker in the pocket of your Rapha gravel shorts."

At this rate the low-gearing backlash is all but assured, and when that happens I've got two words for you: "fixie bikepacking."

Finally, speaking of fixies:

(Via the Twitter)

The Luna Fixed is a fixed gear styled electric bike. For the uninitiated, fixed gear bikes are generally minimalist frames lacking cable clutter and have their pedal input rigidly connected to the rear wheel without a freewheel, meaning if the bike is moving then the pedals are moving too.

But while old school fixies may be a timeless classic, the Luna Fixed offers a very 21st-century twist. A 400 W mid-drive motor and 250 Wh battery are both hidden in the 6061 aluminum frame of the unassuming bike.

Looks like a pretty cool bike, but I'm reasonably certain neither the designers nor the writer of the article have ever seen a fixed-gear bicycle before.

New Outside Column!

I've got a new Outside column, and it's about how right on red for drivers is bullshit:

Of course we don't allow right on red here in New York City, though there are certain intersections where it is permitted, and if you don't notice the tiny sign telling you it's okay to go the drivers behind you will completely lose their shit because you're robbing them the chance to savor this rare opportunity.

Also, I've been acquainting myself with the mechanical nuances of my new-to-me bike:

 Firstly, I preemptively lubricated the freehub in order to obviate the dreaded "Mavic Death Squeal," and to familiarize myself with the process.  (As it happens, I was riding with a friend recently when his Mavic hub started howling, so the blood-curdling sound was still fresh in my mind.)  In all the process took maybe 5 minutes, required only two hex keys, and in terms of mechanical difficulty was only slightly more challenging than removing the rear wheel from the bicycle in order to do it.  So if doing that a couple times a season keeps things working smoothly then I'd consider that acceptable.

Secondly, a on a ride a few days ago I noticed a subtle squeaking sound while pedaling that I eventually narrowed down to the crank.  (Remember, this bike is new to me, so it's bound to need some attention here and there.)  "Uh-oh," I thought.  As a Shimano Hollowtech II enthusiast (let's be honest, a traditional threaded bottom bracket shell with a Hollowtech II crank is the most reliable, easily serviced drivetrain in the history of humankind), I was dreading the moment I'd have to figure out the Campagnolo Ultra Torque crank, what with its wave washers and Hirth joint and all the rest of it--though I also knew that sooner or later I'd have to come to terms with it, and clearly that moment had come sooner rather than later.

Anyway, removing and reinstalling the Campy crank also turned out to be pretty easy--not Hollowtech II easy, but certainly easy enough.  It also didn't require any weird tools (I had a hex key of sufficient length, as well as a torque wrench), though had I done a full bearing service it would have been another story, because apparently those require a special puller, because of course they do.  In any case, I greased the cups and put everything back together, and since then everything's been quiet.

Hopefully it remains that way, because I've got an Ultegra crank ready to be deployed on short notice, and I will mix Campy and Shimano if I have to.  (In fact, if you look closely at the bike, I already am.)

You have been warned.

Eroica CA DVD Extras!

On Monday I shared my Eroica California story for Outside magazine, which is already being hailed as the greatest story about the 2019 Eroica California for Outside magazine that I've ever written:

Nevertheless, as comprehensive as that story is, it doesn't tell the whole story.  Specifically, it omits many of my crappy photos, as well as the sorts of tedious details nobody really needs or wants to know.  Therefore, I am going to provide you with an abundance of both herewith.

For example, you know I ordered a Brand-X Road Bike from Chain Reaction Cycles for the Nova Eroica and had it shipped to my hotel.  But do you know how it looked when I took it out of the box?  Well, now you do:

You also know that I purchased a Univega Viva Sport for $125 on Craigslist.  Well, here's the actual ad:

Here's the bike mere moments after it had become mine:

And here it is in my sweet-ass rental minivan:

Oh yeah, here's my sweet-ass rental minivan:

As for the Brand X, even though I now ride titanium, the ne plus ultra of frame materials ("ne plus ultra" is how the sorts of assholes who ride titanium say "bestest"), I do have a soft spot for aluminum bikes as well as for inexpensive bikes of all materials.  So I was just as excited to try it out as I would be if it were a $10,000 Fred Sled:

The matte finish and minimal branding also worked for me:

As did the accidental nod to the Bronx, the New York City borough which I call home:

For the data nerds, the shifters were Shimano Tourney, which I believe are probably the last ones to include the little Campy-esque nubbin on the inside of the lever for the upshifts.  Unlike Campy, you can't really access the nubbins from the drops, but outside of a race situation that's not really something you miss too much.  Also, as I mentioned in the Outside story, the bike comes with a seven-speed freewheel, and I do mean freewheel--it's not a cassette hub.  However, that too worked perfectly well, and it also seemed like a fitting nod to Eroica.

Anyway, as I said, I was excited to try my new cheap bike, though to be honest the setting may have informed my excitement somewhat.  It's still pretty cold and crappy in New York City in April, and so watching people heading out for a quick surf before work on a sunny Friday morning seemed impossibly exotic:

And yes, before you tell me about your friend who surfs out in Rockaway before work, I know it's something people do everywhere, but let's not pretend that the pre-work routine for 90% of New Yorkers isn't getting a buttered roll and a coffee at the deli on a dark and rainy morning before throwing elbows on the subway for an hour.

Dialing in the bike was easy, and as I mentioned in the article I didn't even bother to adjust the tire pressure, which was fine out of the box.  After that I picked up some nutrition and various sundries at a local bike shop and headed up the coast in my minivan.  Then, the next morning, I lined up at the start of the Nova Eroica:

If you squint the Brand-X looks like any other gravel bike, but it's oh so much less:

As was the case last year, the ride itself was stunning, and while it featured some long, difficult climbs, there was plenty of time for recovery in between:

Plus, the view at from the tops of the climbs was well worth the effort:

One thing I didn't mention in the article though was that, owing to what was apparently an organizational hiccup or whatever the technical term for fuck-up is, many of the rest stops were insufficiently socked, which is another way of saying they didn't have enough food.  This wasn't really a problem for me, as I had stuffed my pockets with so much food that morning that my jersey was distended and about to burst, and I never got close to bonking.  (The girth of my midriff wasn't helping.)  However, a lot of riders were understandably quite frustrated, since a major part of the Eroica experience is eating fancy quasi-Italian foodstuffs, and whether it's Tuscany or the Central Coast you should be plied with wine and olive oil at every turn. 

Still, there was a stop at a brewery:

And I felt really bad for all the normals who had to endure the constant stream of Freds clomping in for their free sample:

But yeah, that aside, the ride was sublime, and here are the wheels I followed for a good portion of the ride:

"Who's the doofus with the pie plate and 500 packets of energy gels in his jersey?," they're all wondering.

With Nova Eroica down I had only the Classic Eroica to go, and when I spotted this vintage Mario Bros. game in a local restaurant I wondered if there was an Eroica for gamers:

Then I realized I don't really care.

Until now I had barely touched the Univega, so the morning of the Classic Eroica I finally turned my attention to it.  Here's the house we were staying in, so I enjoyed the novelty of working on a bike in a garage as opposed to the basement of an apartment building which is where I usually do it:

The view wasn't too bad, either:

My usual view is of the laundry room.

Here's the Univega exactly as I received it:

It was, by all appearances, a pretty nice frame:

Though the cockpit looked like the "It's" man from Monty Python:

According to this seat tube sticker, it had begun life at Bike Tech in Orange County:

So presumably it hadn't traveled far in the past few decades.

The Craigslist ad had said 1985, but I think maybe the SunTour components are newer than that:

I'm sure someone out there can date all this stuff exactly, though as Classic Cycles points out on their website in the description of my Litespeed, when it comes to bikes it's sort of pointless to get hung up on exact dates.

Either way, while the chain was rusty, the chainrings were quite clean, leading me to believe this bicycle had not been ridden much relative to its age:

I wasn't about to bother re-taping the bars or anything like that, but I did add some toe clips (I brought those home with me for another project), and I also threw on a Brooks Cambium I had brought with me for insurance:

In all, I easily had the mustiest bike there, but I was there, and that's all that mattered:

Recovery rides don't get much better than leisurely spins along the Pacific:

Here's the view from the turnaround point:

And here's what happened to my decaying brake hood when I briefly lay the bike down on the ground:

I guess it must be gravel-specific.

On the way back I stopped to commune with the seals:

After two days spent riding around with packs of people in cycling clothes, it's hard to to draw comparisons:

And finally it was back to Cambria, where somebody apparently misunderstood what the whole Eroica thing was about:

Of course, what you really want to know is this:

Who called dibs on the bikes?!?

Well, I had one dibs-caller on the Brand-X.  He was down from Berkeley for the ride, and if he happens to be reading perhaps he'll hop into the comments and let us know how it's going.  Perhaps he'll also share how (or even if) he managed to get both his own bike and the Brand-X (not to mention all his camping equipment) back in a Miata.  It really is a solid bike, and it seems particularly well-suited to long-haul commuting.  Throw some fenders and a rack on there and you'd be all set.

As for the Univega, incredibly nobody called dibs on it.  Can you believe it?  If it had fit me better I might have even considered keeping it.  However, instead I decided to donate it.  Since I would be flying out of Los Angeles somebody recommended giving it to the Bicycle Kitchen, but then it turned out there was also a Bicycle Kitchen right there in Cambria, so in the end it all worked out.

 After Eroica, I drove down to Los Angeles and spent the night there before flying home on Monday.  Here was the reading material in my trendy boutique hotel room:

Clearly there was no escaping the Eroica theme.