Greg Curnoe Bike: Component List

Greg Curnoe Bike will be ready very soon. For the truly interested (and bless you all), here is a comprehensive list of every part listed in the upper-right-hand corner of the Greg Curnoe print, and then every part that will go on to my version of the bike.

I only recently got a chance to look up close at the Curnoe print, so I was mostly guessing from the image itself when I put together the components for my version. So I thought, for example, that the original had Campagnolo brakes (they're Weinmanns) and a Cinelli stem/bar (they're T.T.T.). I had no idea that Curnoe used Pino Morroni QRs, but, wow, that's cool. But knowing this probably wouldn't have changed my choices very much, given the semi-autobiographical nature of the project, and given the emphasis I'm putting on "adaptation." The basis of my adaptations appears in the chart itself, where I force myself to justify my departures from the original, either on aesthetic or athletic grounds. 

Yes, I do know that I am weird, and that this is just a bike. But by clicking on the image below (and you will need to click to be able to read it), you tacitly acknowledge that you too are weird—and that this is not just a bike!

ps: how awesome was the Tour of Flanders yesterday? I'm going to turn this blog into a racing blog some day! 

Jocelyn Lovell Bike

Spring has arrived in Toronto. This has two consequences for Jocelyn Lovell Bike, who was finished last winter just as the snow started to fall:

1. I want to ride him.
2. I can now finally take nice pictures of him.

The question of riding and photographing are closely linked: until I took nice photographs, I didn't want to ride him and get him dirty and scratched; and until it was nice enough to take good photographs, I didn't want to ride him. So now things are in the proper order, and I have taken the archival photographs that will free me to ride Jocelyn Lovell Bike as much as I want.

Keats told the "fair youth" of his "Ode on a Grecian Urn," stuck eternally in a painted half-kiss,

     Bold lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal—yet, do not grieve;
     She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

Well, Sweet Bicycle, you cannot now fade, having been frozen in these photographs. But unlike the fair youth, you can now split into two lives—one preserved eternally in two dimensions, and the other as my ever, ever-rideable (and kissable!) three-dimensional companion on blissful Poplar Plains hill climbs.

In fact, we've just been on our first hill climb—and he is a very nice, svelte vehicle. Also, I am happy to report that the first person we passed—a high school student—saw the bike and immediately exclaimed, and I quote, "Holy fuck, that is a nice fucking bike." Thank you, fair youth!

Bye Bye Briggs, A Raw Deal on Donuts, and Curnoe Painting Underway

In an effort to make room for Greg Curnoe bike, I am saying goodbye to my friend Briggs. He is being passed on to another friend, Jared, who is fully equipped to appreciate his lovely yellow colour and bizarre England headbadge. I've fitted Briggs with a nice 1984 Shimano 600 group, but added indexed 7-speed shifting courtesy a silver RX100 derailleur, and used Tektro brake levers. The saddle is a Rolls.

I got the following in the mail today:

These are cable donuts for Greg Curnoe Bike's exposed top tube cable housing. Obviously I needed these, and did what it took to get them. Bless "Hudz" for making them, but curse them for only making them in packs of 30 or 250. (Curse Hudz also, incidentally, for their stupid name). I had to order this pack of 8 from an eBay seller in England. The total cost was about $10, which is absolutely shameful. I could buy ten actual Tim Horton's donuts for that. (But even Tim's doesn't make donuts in red; and real donuts on the top tube would be messy, and conducive neither to good braking nor to fitness. Alas.)

I heard from Noah today that painting of Greg Curnoe Bike is underway. The fenders are orange and the frame is primed and sanded. Next comes the yellow, then the green, then the red logos. (Then comes love, then comes marriage.) Here is my latest sketch, incorporating the overpriced donuts incarnadine:

Bikes vs. Books

The books have been winning, my friends. I'm in the period of final revisions on my thesis, and also trying to figure out what I'll be doing next year, and so have been out of the framebuilding shop for the last two months. In that time, dear Greg Curnoe bike has been patiently waiting for me to match Noah's paint-book to the original Curnoe print. That will happen tonight, I'm happy to say.

In the meantime, here is the colour-scheme sketch I'll give Noah tonight. (I can't wait to see the finished product!!)

Greg Curnoe Bike is In For Paint

I thought the day would never come, but at last it has: I have done everything I can for the Curnoe bike; Noah must take it from here.

As I mentioned in a previous post, Greg Curnoe collaborated with a specialist in silk-screening to make the print on which my bike is based (I can't recall where I read the details; if you know them, please leave them in a comment). This was a considerable technical feat, and his work was much admired. Noah of Velocolour is no less an expert, and his challenge will be no less considerable. This is going to be a complicated, time-consuming paint job. I can't wait to see it.

It's very fitting also that my bike will be roommates for the next few months with what's left of the original "Mariposa T. T." As you can read here, Curnoe crashed the bike that served as the model for his painting and had Mariposa rebuild it as a low-profile time trial bike. This bike is in Mike Barry's collection and resides at Bicycle Specialties, where Noah does his painting. Above you can see my frame posing with the seat tube, rear triangle, and (I presume) fork of the original bike. Note the family resemblance in the seat lugs.

Which Headset?

One of the few things I haven't completely decided on for the Greg Curnoe bike is the headset. Here are the sources of this very important dilemma.

The Nuovo Record headset, photographed in the gold medal position, has many things going for it. For one thing, it (or the slightly lighter Super Record) is the one in the painting. For another, it's really good looking—look at all that engraving! It's definitely the best-looking from the rider's-eye perspective, for instance:

And it gets serious bonus points for the totally unnecessary stylish engravings in invisible places:

It's also in really nice condition, with only the tiniest indications of wear. The downside is that it's made of steel and weighs twice what the others do.

The Campagnolo Chorus headset provides a nice compromise of engraving and weight. It's aluminum with steel races, and weighs around 100 grams. It's also in good condition. But its lower stack height is 12mm rather than the 14mm my frame was designed for—which, according to Olivier, would change the head angle by a really-not-important 0.2 degrees. But still. Plus, let's face it, it's not as shiny or scripty as the Nuovo Record.

Then there is the Stronglight A9. It uses needle bearings, which make a lot of sense for headsets. It's the lightest of the bunch—and Curnoe was obsessed with weight savings, as evinced by the somewhat absurd second incarnation of the Mariposa TT, which had useless plastic Modolo brakes. And the Stronglight was around in the 70s, unlike the Chorus.

I'm leaning toward the Nuovo Record—but let me know what you think. It is, I think you'll agree, a life-or-death situation.

Greg Curnoe Bike is Ready for Paint

With the kind assistance of Noah Rosen of Velocolour (who, in addition to painting bikes, also repairs them) I finally tracked down some brake cable stops. And so, with the exception of some inevitable fiddling, the frame is done.

Soon—once I have a chance to match the colours to the original Curnoe print—the really exciting part will begin: painting. As I said in my first post about this bike, it's a bit funny that the most distinctive part of this bike will be the paint job, which I won't do. But even this is "artistically justified": while Curnoe did do a watercolour painting of the bike, I'm more interested in the silk screen print on plexiglass he later produced—for which he required the expert help of a silkscreening specialist. So his was a "collaboration," and so will mine be. (The print, incidentally, was made using enamel paints—very close to the sorts of paints Noah will use.)

While I wait for the paint, I'll be sorting out a few last little build details. For one thing, I would like to find a really pretty matched set of barrel adjusters—one M6 (for the rear) and one M5 (for the front—I tapped a Mafac hanger.) If you know of any, let me know. I'll also get some red donuts for the brake cable (another "trace" of the original bike, which used continuous red cable housing on the top tube), some more Kool Stop Mafac pads, a red chain (apparently technology has progressed to the point where this is practicable), and a few other little things. I really can't wait to see it all built up—I think it will be really spectacular. When it's ready, I'm planning to ride it to London, hopefully to visit Curnoe's (former) studio.