Paul Butler's "The Greg Curnoe Bike Project" at the AGO

Paul Butler's Greg Curnoe Bike Project is under way at the Art Gallery of Ontario, and runs until November 13th.

For my own totally different Greg Curnoe Bike project, completed last spring, read my artistic statement and look at photos.

Gaudi Bike, Step 1; and Bikes and Guitars

Yesterday I took the very first step for the next bike, which I am calling for now by the dramatic title "Gaudi Bike." This first step was putting brass in the transitions of some a stamped Cinelli CS lugset to begin my "investment stamped" process—a sort of time-waster that allows me to do nice silver-brazing on old, long-pointed lugs. The seatlug (which has a reinforced binder, also) looks a bit a double-beaked baby bird asking for a meal. I have kept my framebuilding hobby "starved" for the past while; it is hungry!

Below is a photo taken in the same room as the above, my living room:

For a long time I've been meaning to put up a post about bikes and (mostly Fender) electric guitars—relatively simple, often colourful devices whose designs came to maturity in the post-war years and have mostly changed, if at all, for the worse. I'll actually write that post some day—but for now, this accidental juxtaposition of my Sonic Blue Fender Classic Player 60s Strat (the 2006 model with the AY-signed pickups, a phenomenally nice Mexican-made guitar) and Jocelyn Lovell Bike sort of makes my point for me. (Yes, I did design the Lovell paint scheme around this guitar -- including the slightly green white on the headtube, to match the "mint" pickguard! But the blues are a bit different.)

What I Learned on My Summer Vacation

This has been the busiest summer of my life. In addition to finishing and defending my thesis, I've had to deal with the downside of thesis-completion—finding a job—and then preparing to do that job. (I'm teaching a course at the University of Toronto. It's the first time the course has ever been offered before, so I had to develop the entire syllabus from the ground up.)

All of this was made even more challenging by the fact that I had a long-planned vacation set up for August—I had to squeeze a year's worth of work into three months. But the vacation was wonderful. And while I did almost no framebuilding this summer, I did get a lot of ideas while I was away. Here is a cycling-themed summary of my summer vacation.

After spending a few quiet weeks in Poland, I went to London—where my visit happened to coincide with the London-Surrey Cycling Classic, whose start I was able to see. I was hoping to mingle with the riders before the start, but security was tight. No Tom Boonen autograph, I'm afraid—but if you squint, you can see him in the Belgian colours at the front of the pack. Cycling-wise, London reminded me a lot of Toronto: lots of fixed gears, some reasonably nice; generally cycling-unfriendly streets...

I made my first visit to the Netherlands, which I found generally less amazing than most bicycle-loving Torontonians do. I think the Dutch bikes in Toronto are nicer than the Dutch bikes I saw in Rotterdam, which mostly looked like mountain bikes. But I was suitably impressed with the separated bike lanes, and it was exciting to walk across the Erasmus Bridge, where the 2010 Tour de France started.

I couldn't help but be impressed by Flanders. Commuting cyclists get excited about the Netherlands; racing fans get excited about Belgium. I was hoping to bump into Tom Boonen in his home region, but failed again. I bought a copy of Het Laatste Niews, the Antwerp-based newspaper with the excellent sports section, despite my complete lack of Flemish.

By far the most educational stop was Barcelona. I was impressed not by the bicycles, but rather—like every other tourist in Barcelona—by the Gaudi buildings. And Gaudi gave me some very good bike ideas. This is because he is the most incredible constructeur ever. I was particularly floored by the Palau Güell—which is less colourful and crazy than most Gaudi buildings, but was designed from the ground up, and is really conceived as a whole, with every tiny detail (and there are, at least, millions of little details) fitting into the larger project. My favourite parts were the secret hallways above the guest rooms to permit spying; the handmade furniture, wrought-iron, and hardware fittings; and the incredible central dome around which every room on every floor is built. I was so impressed with the Palau Güell that I forgot to take any pictures. Above is a picture of the chimneys of the nearby Casa Batlló, which has charms of its own. I very much like the idea of decorating something luridly functional like a chimney: it would be fun to do something similar with fenders or mudflaps...

I am going to set aside at least one day a week for framebuilding this fall. I have a number of projects in mind—the first of which may well be called Gaudi Bike!

The World's Nicest Carbon Frame Could Be Yours!

Nice in two senses. First sense: Noah Rosen of Velocolour, painter of all my frames, did an elaborate and stunning paint job, inspired by his childhood love of pinball. (If there was a soundtrack to this bicycle, it would obviously draw heavily on Tommy.) Second sense: this frame is being auctioned to support the charity Right to Play, which helps disadvantaged children in their efforts to play and have fun (a worthy cause!)

It's good-looking and it does good work. It's a very nice frame.

This project was put together by Michael Barry Jr., one of Canada's finest cyclists and the son of Mike Barry of Mariposa fame, Noah, and Pinarello. Michael and Noah jointly came up with the pinball idea; and Noah painted the frame, which Pinarello donated. If you're in the market for a fabulous and unique bicycle frame, and you're looking to support a good cause, go to the eBay auction. It ends in four days.

Also: Michael Barry Jr. is writing articles for The Toronto Star during the Tour de France, which are well worth checking out. His recent blog post on rider safety is a brave and intelligent reflection on a worsening problem.

Back In The Shop, Etc.

Where have I been and what have I been doing for the last month and a half? I have been to Victoria and to Edmonton for conferences; I have turned thirty and celebrated Canada Day; and I have defended my thesis. (DR.A.HAMMOND cycles now, my friends.) I have not been riding my bike very much, I'm afraid, and I haven't been in to the shop at all.

Until today, that is. It's been months since I've done any brazing—but apparently making bicycles is like riding them. It all went perfectly well. My friend Cory has a Surly that he wants to convert into a fendered city bike. I thought adding a bunch of braze-ons would be a good way to reacquaint myself with the torch. Here are some photos. (Cory is my kind of guy: he drilled all the holes for me, and outlined all the positions with a Sharpie, and wrote exactly what braze-on he wanted where.)

The above photo is the only one that warrants commentary. That's one of those brake-retainer-things for the Nexus front drum brake Cory's going to use. Normally it clamps on; but I've chopped it up, given it a shape (more shaping to follow) and turned it onto a braze-on, which I will braze on when I'm in the shop again, next week. (One comment about the other photos: I used brass for everything except the internal brake cable housing entries/exits. And no flux has yet been removed, and nothing cleaned up.)

I'll be out on another Zoo ride on the Curnoe bike tomorrow. My love of routine and habit means there is a limit to how many ride reports I can make. But I will soon post photos of Curnoe bike, two months into his life. And I do hope to ride to London soon, to visit Curnoe's former studio.

Greg Curnoe Bike Does the Zoo Ride

The weather has been awful in Toronto for the past week. The day after my last ride, it started raining; it has hardly stopped since. But today was beautiful, at last, and I made the most of it. As you can see from the above pictured, I lived dangerously. The road was broken, but I risked it.

Greg Curnoe Bike waiting for the Go train at exhibition station. The CN Tower looks on. If you look closely, you will see my new Spécialités TA-made Cinelli water bottle.

If you were looking extremely closely, you would have noticed that I had my tubular wheelset in place. Here is my spare Czech-made Tufo tire, which I bought while on vacation in the Czech Republic in 2007. (I tried to visit the factory, for some reason, but the day I planned by trip, a wild storm blew in. I took this as a sign and walked around Olomouc.)

God bless the Go train. This one took me to Rouge Hill station, in about 40 minutes—enough time to read every section of the Saturday Star that interested me. Then off I went.

The eponymous Zoo, which is on the very margins of the Greater Toronto Area. Ride a few more minutes and you see...

... beautiful sights like these. (Did I mention it has been raining a lot?) 

But the fun doesn't really start until you hit the gravel—which happened about two seconds after I took this photo. (This ride was about 85km, and I would guess about 35 of them were on gravel.)

Ah, the gravel. Empty of cars, and smooth-yet-rutty, so you're kept on your toes. I made Greg Curnoe Bike to ride over roads like this one. His big fat tubulars are designed to soak up the gravel-bumps, and his big orange fenders are designed to deposit stray pellets safely back on the road.

Greg Curnoe Bike doing what he was designed to do.

A picturesque gravel crossroads. (No souls transacted.)

Riding flat on gravel is fun, but climbing steep gravel hills is more fun.

What my ride companions (none of whom could make it today, alas) call The Roman Aqueduct.

Shortly after the Aqueduct, there is a really windy, hilly section. I needed a break at the top of the steepest of the climbs. (Note spare tubular hanging somewhat perilously, and the aforementioned Cinelli water bottle [my lugs, remember, are Cinelli CSes].)

A particularly glorious, rolling, quiet, wooded stretch. The Italians can have their strade bianche. We'll keep our strade marrone.

And so to Goodwood, the traditional resting place. Normally there is a hotly contested sprint for this sign, but today, being alone, I rode by slowly and took this photo.

The wonderful bakery in Goodwood, which provides all necessary motivation when you're struggling on the gravel roads.

More gravel on the ride back to the Go station.

Waiting for the train near surprisingly scenic Rouge Hill Station.

Today was an excellent test for Greg Curnoe Bike. Lots of rough road, lots of shaking, lots of climbs. He felt very comfortable, no bolts loosened, I rode quickly—and the rear brake finally stopped squealing. He is very good at his job. (And, yes, more teenagers said nice things about him on the Go ride home.)

Greg Curnoe Bike Rides to Acton

First things first: Adam of Cycle EXIF gave Greg Curnoe Bike an incredible writeup today. Thank you!

Buoyed by this report, naturally he wanted to go for a ride. The weather reports are suggesting rain for this weekend. Since I am working on a research contract this month that stipulates I work 40 hours per week, but does not specify exactly when those 40 hours should be, I decided to give myself the day off and make up the hours on the weekend. I took the Go train from Exhibition to Oakville (happening to meet up with some friendly cycling acquaintances of mine, who were themselves off on a tour to Niagara) and from there rode to Acton. It's one of my favourite rides, and one I've written about before. Here follows a photo summary of my journey.

Everything a cyclist needs: shoes; gloves; a zip-loc bag filled with Fig Newtons; a bidon; and an Arizona iced tea (stuck in jersey pocket) and newspaper (stuck in front of jersey, à la chilly mountain descent) for the train ride.

There was an incredibly strong east wind (an unusual one) today, and it pushed me quickly west along Britannia Road toward southern Ontario's diminutive "mountain range," the Niagara Escarpment, slightly visible in the distance.

Rattlesnake point climb, which is deadly (pun) to ride up, but which looks quite tame when photographed. It's Valkenburgy, I swear.

On top of the Escarpment, having recovered enough strength to fetch my sweaty Olympus point-and-shoot from my jersey pocket.

The Escarpment looks a bit more impressive from the other side. Residents of mountainous regions will be amused that we employ bumps like these as pretexts for ski hills. In the foreground, idyllic Highway 401.

Having climbed the Escarpment a second time, Greg Curnoe Bike leans himself a pole and waits as I relieve myself.

A picturesque swamp that sits atop the Escarpment.

On the day that the Giro peloton dealt with the strade bianche, I rode this one strada bianca and wished for more...

I enjoyed a Cherry Coke on a bench opposite one of Acton's principal attractions, The Needle Gnome (apartment for rent!)

And so I began the somewhat less interesting return journey, fighting the wind, and spending lots of time looking down at all the pleasant triangles visible from the "cockpit."

Upon my return to Oakville, I was dismayed to see that my favourite Tim Horton's was under construction—but most relieved to see this "Mobile Store" parked nearby. 

I parked Greg Curnoe Bike against a Tim Horton's garbage bin, with his front wheel held in place by a construction beacon. In this art vs. life battle, life is presenting a formidable challenge.

Thus ended the ride. I had no mechanical issues this time—Greg Curnoe Bike rode like the oft-mentioned "dream." I'm not in great shape, so I didn't whizz up the climbs, but I certainly did no worse than usual. I think the most important mechanical determinants of a good or bad ride are: the gears you use (the 40-24 small gear was fine, so that worked); your saddle (I like the Flite); your pedals and shoes (thank you Ultegra pedals and older Sidi road shoes); your brakes (the brazed-on Mafacs work exceptionally... though still a bit of squeal from the rear brake); the position of the handlebars relative to the saddle (6cm below, check, and I like that the hoods sit lower with non-aero levers—one more position.) Few of these things depend on the actual frame, though some do. As a "whole," Greg Curnoe Bike is ideally adapted to sort of fast, rolling, approximately 100km rides that I prefer.

I thought often of Wouter Weylandt today. I really liked him as a cyclist. It's awful when things like this happen. My thoughts to his family, friends, and teammates.