Phoebe: My Mom's Bianchi

This bike is built around a frame I purchased, in my more naive days, from a person either deceptive or uninformed. It came to me completely unpainted and clearcoated and set up as a fixed gear. It was very attractive, but of course as soon as I started riding it, it began to rust. This is because clearcoat doesn't protect bare steel from oxidation (clear powdercoating would work; but primer is needed for wet paints). Lesson learned!

It was a bit small for me anyway. Not so for my tall mother! Using a variety of parts I had around the house, I built this bike for her last spring, and she rode it all summer. Noah of Velocolour did the paint job with some extra paint he had left over from Mike Barry's Torpado project, and it looks great. The crankset is a 48/39, and she says she's only used the "big" ring once. She loves the bar-end shifters and the rear rack. Even though the bars are level with the saddle (an old B.17), she still wishes they were a bit higher. She calls her bike "Phoebe."

(Most of the photos below were taken before I'd connected the derailleur cables. I have a bad habit of photographing my projects slightly before completion. I also added a nice brass bell on the stem quill, which makes the long quill look less odd.)

Barnaby: Sam's Alan Super Record

Here begins a series of posts on bikes I have put together for other people.

This is Sam's Alan Super Record, which is actually still in progress (proper pedals needed; black cloth finishing tape to be properly glued!). The frame dates, I believe, from the late 70s. It's a top-of-the-line racing frame — many races have been won on such frames. I have an Alan cyclocross frame from the 90s, which I like very much. This frame seems equally well adapted to its purpose: racing.

It came to me (from Mike Barry) with a Mavic bottom bracket installed (and its BB shell chamfered) and with an odd, old Shimano 600 headset. The headset was overhauled and kept. The bottom bracket was put "on file," and every other component was taken from a complete bicycle purchased on eBay. (The frame from which will be for sale soon!)

Everything, that is, beside the brakes. The Spidel Mafac Competition-like brakes are my favourite part of the bike, I think. They're contemporary to the frame, and they work better than anything else currently on the market. The front cable routing might look a bit awkward, but it works very well.

All in all, a bicycle that sacrifices nothing in performance or style.

Sam calls him "Barnaby."

Clive

In the last week I've stared the prospect of setting up a small frame shop in the face—and been stared down. The costs of the tooling—even basic stuff—is well beyond my current means. And the fact that I have no place to build (my landlord nixed my idea of building in the spacious, concrete-floored basement of the house where I live) revealed the futility of it all. I'm going to gather tools, fixtures, etc.,—but slowly. Maybe I'll build my second frame in a few years.

There is very good news in the meantime. I met and befriended Dan Polito at NAHBS with no intention of ordering a frame from him. But I just did. He's excited about the bike, excited about collaborating on the design, and able to deliver it relatively quickly. This is a very good situation. I'm excited. The bike's tentative name is "Clive": a snootified contraction of the city he'll be built in. (Above and to the right, sporting a baffling and unfortunate hairstyle, is Clive Bell—art critic, brother-in-law to Virginia Woolf, generally irritating person. My Clive will be nicer, better-behaved, better-dressed, have better style—though he too will be interested in art, no doubt!)

Also, yesterday was very warm and sunny, so I took Briggs out for a ride. Every aspect of my bike obsession is pleasant, but the best one is still riding. I can't wait for consistently nice weather.

NAHBS

Last Wednesday evening, a few hours after my first committee meeting, Noah Rosen (of Velocolour) and Suzanne Carlsen (of Suzanne Carlsen Headbadges) picked me up for our two-part, ten-hour drive to Indianapolis. We stayed over in Flint, Michigan at a Super 8, and arrived at the show in the mid-afternoon. Things were already well underway: the Vanilla shipping crates were being unpacked, the Brooks people were laying their temporary hardwood floor, and the Signal Cycles guys were hanging photos on their booth's wall. (At right: Noah, Suzanne, their U-Haul, and the frightening but beautiful "steam factory" right next to the Convention Centre.)

I was along, so I thought, to display Niles at Doug Fattic's booth. Doug was planning on displaying his new design jig at the show, and also showing off some student bikes. Unfortunately, Doug didn't get his booth. (Though he did triumph nonetheless — his students took home big awards; on which, more later.) But very luckily, Noah was willing to show off Niles in his booth. The paint job was very nice, after all. (That's the Velocolour/SC booth below, with Niles peeking out down the centre.) It took us until quite late to get the booth set up. Then we checked into our (distant) hotel, got a meal, and rested up for Friday morning's opening.

Friday I spent looking at bikes. It took me several hours just to get a mental overview show, and to decide on spots to revisit in more detail. The main builders who stood out were Dave Wages of Ellis Cycles, Mitch Pryor of M.A.P. Bicycles (that's him below on the right), and Dan Polito of Cicli Polito. In a nice congruence of factors, I liked their bikes, they were all nice, and I spent a lot of time talking to each of them.

The craftsmanship was what impressed me most about the Ellis bikes. It's very clear how many years Dave has spent building bikes; don't let the relative newness of his company fool you. I also love the understated elegance of his paint choices and decals. The M.A.P. bikes were impressive for their nicely integrated racks, brazed-on centrepull brakes, and nice constructeur details. The style of the Polito bikes was really impressive; as a whole unit (paint/craftsmanship/component selection/design) his Jack Taylorish bike was my favourite at the show.

Friday night I had dinner with an extremely friendly group that included Curt Goodrich. I always suspected (based on his articles in the Rivendell Reader and his blog entries and posts) that Curt was a really nice guy, and this hunch was completely verified. It was a real pleasure getting to meet him. The food wasn't bad either.

Saturday at the show was incredibly busy, so I spent most of the day working in my hotel room. But I did get a chance to see Doug Fattic, his assistant Herbie, and my classmate Dan. I got a peek at Doug's jig, which he'd brought along in his car. I was sufficiently impressed to want one very badly. Mike Barry was at the show that day also, and Saturday's dinner included his retinue as well as Richard Sachs. I didn't sit very near him at dinner, but even from a distance it was obvious white a nice guy he is. The difference of this congress of framebuilders to the academic conferences I'm used to attending was stark: these people are so genuinely passionate about what they do, and so eager to talk about their work. The social side of the weekend was incredible.

Sunday I slept in a bit and arrived for the awards presentation. I was extremely happy to see Ellis Cycles take "Best Lugged Frame," Mitch Pryor take "Best City Bike" (he thanked Doug Fattic, whose student he is), and Dan Polito win "Best in Show" (he also took Doug's class; that's him at right, before he and his bike had received their award). It was great to see my favourite bikes take the big prizes. My favourite painter didn't do badly either. Noah and Velocolour took the award for "Best Paint" back to Toronto for his work on Mike Barry's 1951 Cinelli. Very well deserved.

Now (after another 10 hour drive) I'm back in Toronto and trying to get all my framebuilding equipment in place. After a weekend like that, my patience is very low and my enthusiasm incredibly high. I badly want one of Doug's jigs and hope I can afford it. Then I need a reasonably priced surface plate and a fork jig. If I could get all this for the price I was going to pay for the Velo Orange I would be extremely happy.

Something Strange

I'm not sure what is causing the blog to show up as blank. It looks like you need to click on "February" to see my latest post.

I'm still planning my trip to NAHBS, but it looks like a go. Stay tuned!

Update: this post has fixed whatever problem there was.

Bike Number Two

After a perplexing and protracted 16 months of waiting for my Johnny Coast-built Velo Orange randonneur, I am instead getting my deposit refunded. I am quite sure I have been the worst sort of customer, sending email after email asking for all sorts of options. I have been very patient, though.

But things do generally work out, don't they? When I placed my order, expecting my frame last July, I had no plans to learn to build my own. When it was delayed beyond the end of the summer, I decided to take Doug Fattic's class and learn to build. When it was delayed yet again, I asked for my deposit back so that I could just make my own. But I was promised it would be delivered before riding season, and was a bit scared of making my own frame anyway. But when, after having been told it was started, I learned this week it wouldn't be ready for riding season after all, I was offered my refund back, and accepted it.

Unlike most customers who have waited sixteen months for something they were promised in eight and then don't receive at all, I'm happy. Now all those million little ideas I had, and which were completely inappropriate for a "semi-custom," I can do for myself. I have plans for an integrated lighting system that wasn't possible under the "semi-custom" scheme. And I'll make myself a stem. Imperial-oval fork blades weren't possible with the VO but will be used on this. I'll likely set the frame up for use with my Mavic bottom bracket, which might just be weirdness for weirdness's sake. Everything else (every component, that is) has been in place for the last year or more. I just need to make the frame.

I still don't really have any place to build, but I do have some leads. I already have nearly everything I need to build my frame from: see in the above photo a set of Reynolds 531, a lovely 45mm-wide Imperial Oval fork crown, some Prugnat lugs (thanks to Greg Parker for all that), and braze-ons for Mafacs (thanks to Amir). My engraved Mafac 2000s and Mariposa rack are apparently on their way back home also (they're on the side, photographed prior to their return trip to the Big Apple).

As for the equipment, there appears to have been another stroke of luck. Noah Rosen of Velocolour and Suzanne Carlsen of the headbadges are likely going to give me a ride to NAHBS. This will give me a chance (if I can get someone to bring him in their car) to show off Niles, and also hopefully to get a design jig from Doug Fattic, and maybe pick up some more bits and pieces for my next frame. The timing on this trip couldn't have been better.

Hopefully I can get started on this soon. Naturally I will post all the details to the blog!

Obsessions

At the end of John Watters's Pecker, the title character says that what he's learned from Little Chrissy is that life isn't worth living unless you're obsessed with something. In one of the bonus features on the Royal Tenenbaums DVD, Wes Anderson says that what separates artists from other people is the ability to become obsessed with a project, and bring it to completion.

For better or worse, I have this ability in spades. Over the summer, my obsession was Niles. For the past several months, during which I have not posted here once, my obsession has been my dissertation, and reading. Having finished another chapter, and being about to start on another, I have given myself a brief chance to resume one bicycle-related obsession: my hatred of anodizing.

My Velo Orange Randonneur, which I ordered 15 months ago, is apparently going to be begun this month. I certainly hope this proves true, not only because I want to ride it when the snow melts, but also because waiting for a bike to arrive is the cruelest sort of torture one could inflict on someone like me. I have gone through at least three versions of every part for the Velo Orange, buying something that seems perfect on eBay, changing my mind, selling it or putting it on another bike, etc.

I settled on MAVIC stuff early on. I love most everything about the brand, from its nice aesthetic to its weirdness and Frencheyness and rareness. (The rebuildability, until now, never seemed like such a great thing, since they're not made anymore.) I will have MAVIC brake levers, derailleurs, and rims on my Velo Orange (code name: New York Bike.) If Mavic made a 94bcd crank, centrepulls brakes, and silver seatposts, I might get those too.

Rear derailleur-wise, I got a very nice 851 early on, a stunningly beautiful part: light, odd-looking, and ingenious in its sliding pulley cage. I have been second-guessing its practicality from the beginning, however, because of it's old-fashionedey single-pivot, non-slanting parallelogram geometry. Sure enough, on my Alan with a 14-24 freewheel, it shifts fairly well, but no so well on the 13-26 I want to use on NYB.

I happened to have bought an "NOS" 840 on eBay (along with some Mavic brake levers, which was what I was really after) extremely cheaply because someone listed it as a "dearailler." It's a much heavier derailleur than the 851, not as cool-looking, but better-working (not that I've actually mounted it—but it's essentially like all other modern derailleurs.) I didn't really think about using it until the 851's sub-optimal shifting was revealed, and until I saw this excellent post by Jeremy Rauch, who loves MAVIC even more than I.

Seeing an 840 all disassembled like that made me see what I had to do: disassemble my derailleur, sand of all the anodizing, and make it shiny. This I did over the last few days. It was extremely fun, and relatively easy as well. The results were nice, also. What seemed to me a somewhat soulless derailleur now has lots of personality, and having seen it "vulnerable" and disassembled, I feel we now have a special relationship. It will be going on NYB.

I have also included a photo of a sanded-and-polished Stronglight A9. Ugh, I just can't stand the look of anodizing. It's awful. I tried the Easy Off method for this, by the way, and it just turned everything black, and then I had to sand off all of the black crust. Just sanding off the anodizing is the way to go.