Fendies on my Fixie

The top photo is a close-up of the component parts of the "Spring Thing" I bought from Velo Orange to help convert my old Fuji fixed gear from 700c to 650B. As you can see in the second photo (from the Velo Orange website), this contraption allows for the proper installation of the rear fender on horizontal dropouts by allowing for adjusting the distance from the front of the rear fender to the chainstay bridge. Also, one can install a wheel where otherwise there is little clearance by pushing the fender forward a little. Clever.

Clearly, you could build up your own "Spring Thing" yourself, but I hadn't even thought of it until I saw the Velo Orange "Spring Thing".

Here, you can see the "Spring Thing" in service.

Here is the rear wheel now properly fendered.

Front Wheel.



Now, I just need to figure out a new rack/brake interface. Not quite happy there.

Keep it springy,

CurioRando

My new 650B fixie commuter

I'm working on my 600k ride reports, but meanwhile, here is a pic of my new commuter. I got the frame, an old Fuji, from a guy I met in a bike shop. I was telling him about my old Fuji and he asked if I'd like another Fuji frame to fool around with. Price: one six pack of his favorite (some German brew I don't remember) beer. I gave him two, and we were both happy.

Put on my old Ostrich bags, and I've got a nice little commuter that's fixed and with 650B wheels I built myself. They are my first self-built wheels.

Keep it on the road,

CurioRando

Two Wheels North at the Book-It Theater in Seattle

I don't know a thing about this production, nor have I read the book Two Wheels North.

Here are the basics from the Book-It Theater website:

Vic McDaniel and Ray Francisco, fresh high school graduates, set out on their second-hand bicycles from Santa Rosa, California in August of 1909 to take on the challenge of cycling from their home to Seattle for the Alaska Yukon Pacific Exposition. They pedal, push, and walk a thousand miles of primitive roads for 54 days, and encounter nearly every imaginable natural, mechanical, and human challenge on their one-speed bikes. While adventure is their primary lure, there is a promised purse of $25 from the Post-Intelligencer waiting for them if they can only make it to Seattle before the final day of the AYP.

Here's a picture of the Exposition from Wiki:

But get this: the shows are free!

Only two left. Go here for the Book-It Theater website and info.

Here's a little video from their website.

Two Wheels North - Book-It Repertory Theatre from 4Culture on Vimeo.

Keep it Northbound,

CurioRando

Riding around the world...on a highwheeler!

• If you haven't noticed by now, I'm a sucker for high wheelers (and no, it isn't the Bunnies). That's why when I heard about Around the World on a Bicycle, by Thomas Stevens and first published in 1887, I couldn't resist.
  
  Really, around the world?
  
  Yep.
  
  Around the World on a Bicycle was republished by Stackpole Books in 2001 with an introduction by Thomas Pauly, and everything about it is daunting:
  
  
  
• Going around the world



• Riding a high wheeler



• Through undeveloped land over the roughest of trails



• Amongst people who had never seen a bicycle



• With essentially no supplies other than a slicker



• Eating whatever came his way



• Sleeping outdoors, in mangers, wherever



• Writing over 1000 pages



• No Control Stops



• No Perpetuem!

How to begin describing such a journey? Let's have Stevens speak for himself after a brief setup.

Stevens writes of his Hungarian companion, Igali, whom he fell in with for a spell. Igali had his own bicycle, and was considered the ultimate sporting cyclist of all Hungary at the time. Stevens adjusts to Igali's slower pace by riding ahead and waiting in a comfortable spot for him. There is a little tension around tempo, but it resolves as they ride along and encounter adventures together and learn to appreciate one another more deeply.

My companion is what in England or America would be considered a "character"; he dresses in the thinnest of racing costumes, through which the broiling sun readily penetrates, wears racing-shoes, and a small jockey-cap with an enormous poke, beneath which glints a pair of "specs"; he has rat-trap pedals to his wheel, and winds a long blue girdle several times around his waist, consumes raw eggs, wine, milk, a certain Hungarian mineral water, and otherwise excites the awe and admiration of his sport-admiring countrymen.

On the Slavonian national dance:

Livelier and faster twang the tamboricas, and more and more animated becomes the scene as the dancing, shuffling ring envdeavors to keep pace with it. As the fun progresses into the fast and furious stages the youths' hats have a knack of getting into a jaunty position on the side of their heads, and the wearers' faces assume a reckless, flushed appearance, like men half-intoxicated, while the maidens' bright eyes and beaming faces betoken unutterable happiness; finally the music and the shuffling of feet terminate with a rapid flourish, everybody kisses everybody--save, of course, mere luckless onlookers like Igali and myself--and the Slovian national dance is ended.

On the popularity of the wheel:

Many readers will doubtless be as surprised as I was to learn that at Belgrade, the capital of the little Kingdom of Servia, independent only since the Treaty of Berlin, a bicycle club was organized in January, 1885, and that now, in June of the same year, they have a promising club of thirty members, twelve of whom are riders owning their own wheels.

In addition to cultural misunderstandings, mechanical breakdowns, sickness, attacks, headers, and severe weather, Stevens had to walk much of his journey as he had just one gear. Despite this, it took him 104 days to travel from San Fransisco to Boston, the first cross country cyclist. Eight months later in May of 1885 he left for England returning back to San Fransisco in January of 1887 via France, Germany, Austria, Hungary, Serbia, Slovinia, Bulgaria, Turkey, Azarbaijan, Georgia, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, India, Singapore, China and Japan. Some 13, 500 miles "wheeled" he says.



Stevens can be compelling at times, but also repetitive. I'm probably one fifth of the way through its 1000+ pages, and I start and stop because there is no real drama apart from his various escapades. He's thorough, and I'm learning a great deal, but it ain't a great read.

I can't seem to find attribution for the line drawings, but as you can see they are fabulous.



His feat is remarkable in so many ways, but the detail that gave me heart as I contemplate the Paris Brest Paris in 2011 is that he decided to ride cross country just two years before he embarked. At the point of that decision he hadn't yet ridden a bicycle!

And, the one he rode, a Columbia Bicycle by Pope Bicycle Factory, cost him $110. Consider that a tea set then was $4.75, a sewing machine $13.50, and set of parlor furniture was $17.50 according to the Introduction. Even a 425-pound buggy cost only $44.50, so my custom bicycle isn't looking too bad in comparison.

All together, I'm enjoying my long distance journey with Around the World on a Bicycle, but like his journey: it isn't for the faint of heart.

Keep it high,

CurioRando

Bunnies on High Wheelers!

That's right, bunnies ride high wheel bicycles because Bunnies know what's cool and elegant!






Lucia Neare's Theatrical Wonders performed in Seward Park near my South Seattle home this evening. Though I couldn't stay for their performance, I snapped a few pics of these magical bunnies on high wheelers (the original fixies).

All part of their Lullaby Moon series--performances on the New Moons of every month for an entire lunar year--the Neare tribe was a wonder indeed. I had trouble capturing the Bunnie Bikers alone as they were followed continuously by a parade of enchanted young children.
























Check out the Lucia Neare website. Her influences include Dr. Seuss, P.T. Barnum, and her time living in Southern India. She describes her mission thusly:

I am devoted to creating free, living, joyful experiences for public audiences that offer vivid infusions of whimsy and inspire hope and expansive thinking--that gifts can spring forth on the streets and in our lives, that it is possible to fill the air with love through the power of our intent.

Of course all was enhanced by the specialness of the time of day when all calms, and the last light on the lake fades away.


Thank you for your inspired cycling, Bunnies!

Keep it enchanted,

CurioRando

Which is Worse: Unceasing Rain or No Gears?

Newbie Randonneur Tip #1

Sidle Up, Latch On, Pester

This smiling randonneur is John Vincent, experienced randonneur. This grimacing randonneur is me. The Smiler is holding a chain tool. The Grimacer, pointing at the chain tool, could cry at any moment. Twelve hours earlier we never knew one another existed. Eleven hours earlier I sidled up to John, latched on, and pestered him about everything randonneuring.

John and I rode the Oregon Randonneurs Berkie 200K (3/28/09) together in the pouring rain. I had stopped in the first few kilometers to remove a layer of leg warmers I'd soon regret removing when John came by, and we rode most of the remaining rainy brevet together.

I know what you're thinking: this is where the author spins a long story of exaggerated rain and details just how hard and for how long and how no other rain could compare. Normally, you'd be right. This time though I'll refer you to a much better description than I could convey. Narayan Krishamoorthi tells the tale: Narayan's Birkie 200k Ride Report.

I had remembered Narayan's name even before I had ever ridden a brevet when I checked out his blog on randonneuring. I said to my wife, an Indian-American, "Look, honey, there's even an Indian randonneur," crudely trying to impress her with my new passion and desperate to make any oblique connection for her. She was, naturally, unimpressed that one of her over one billion fellow Indians had found his way to this obscure sport. Nonetheless, Narayan is a consummate rain tale teller so check out his version of this brevet, and I'll only add this lone fact about the rain: John and I kept rigid observations and throughout our entire 12 hour brevet, it stopped raining for no more than one minute total. Truly.

What do you do for twelve raining hours? Well, I spent the time invoking a Vulcan mind meld on John and he imparted all sorts of randonneuring lore. I won't reveal it all here, because my dear Newbie you'll have to do your own sidling and pestering. That's half the fun!

I will reveal one tidbit. John insisted as we climbed Timber Mountain on the way out that the essence of randonneuring is just staying committed to a brevet once you've begun until it is simply too late to finish. More directly, if you run into a difficulty don't quit until it is physically and absolutely impossible to finish in the allotted time.

I hear you muttering "Well, duh! That's kind of basic, isn't it?" Well, it may sound basic, but I am hereby elevating it via fontifying and boldifying to Tip status:

Newbie Randonneur Tip #2

Don't Quit--Let the Clock Crush You First!

Here's why this tip is more than what it seems. After about 150k, we became noticeably more relaxed. Despite some barking knees I felt I could finish. John had felt extraordinarily cold earlier--really chilled--and Life was getting better for him. We had just been overtaken by a small band of merry bikers and now comprised a chatty, little peleton rolling along when I suddenly screeched to a halt as my chain wrapped around that little area between my largest cog and my spokes. In the process, it destroyed my rear derailleur. Hmmm. I also found that the chain didn't want to unwrap. Tug as I would, pry as I might, it was stuck-stuck. Pretty bleak as the you-know-what-that-I-pledged-I-wouldn't-talk-about came down on John and me.

At that point, I knew I was finished. I knew it. How could I finish with a wheel that wouldn't turn, a broken derailleur, a sore knee, and that stuff pouring down? I was sizing up my hitchhiking probabilities (I have hitchhiked and freight-hopped myself across the country so I wasn't worried), and gave one more try at the chain. Somehow something was different and it came loose! I heard someone say in what sounded like my voice that if I just had a chain tool I could convert the bicycle into a singlespeed cycle and possibly continue. John heard that voice too and said that he indeed had a chain tool.

FREEZE FRAME! At that moment I am looking at John and trying to determine whether I was grateful, relieved and hopeful or whether I was pissy, impatient, and filled with dread. In that frozen moment I weighed going back over Timber Mountain on a one-speed bicycle and suffering vs. the cliched image of regaling a pickup truck driver in the cab of a warm truck about how I almost finished a 200k bicycle ride. The pickup was tempting.

RESUME ACTION! I said "Great!" or something as John gave me the chain tool and asked for leave to carry on without me so that he could finish. This was only right as the chances of my success were slimmish and asking him to wait would be clearly unfair.

As he pedaled away and no trucks or cars or cyclists came by for at least a half hour I felt a little lonely. I also worked furiously. I had been riding a fixie a good deal about a year ago, and knew I might be able to go on if I could just get the chain the right length. There was a moment when I pushed the rivet all the way through both links and it fell into the mud and I couldn't find it. That was my personal nadir.

But I did find it, and reassembled the chain! The rivet wasn't all the way into the outer link, and it was barely hanging in the bent outer link. Again, I pondered whether I really wanted the chain to hold or whether I was secretly cheering for its coming undone. I discovered I in fact had a two-speed as I could switch rear cogs by hand if I adjusted the fore-aft of the rear wheel. Great, except that I realized in my haste I had set it for the wrong two cogs (one cog smaller, therefore harder) than I intended. Oh well. Just pedal, dammit!

So I saddled up. My mental imagining of Timber Mountain was far greater than the reality, and when I crested I knew I had a chance. When I overtook John, I was elated. I knew if I kept with this experienced randonneur I could do it. Now there was no dissembling on my part. I wanted to finish--desperately so. I was kicking myself over the crooked link and dreading its coming undone.

By the time we were within 5 kilometers I was mentally calculating the time available against the kilometers to go and factoring in the slowing if my chain broke and I had to trot my bicycle in. One last pestering question to this experienced randonneur: must one ride the entire brevet or could I simply push my bicycle over the finish line if I had to? He confirmed that I could push. YES, I WILL FINISH!!!!

And we did. And when I asked Susan France and the other ride organizers, of whom I am very grateful for their brevet organizational roles, to take the picture of John and me with the chain tool I could have cried.

Later, in the privacy of my car and surrounded by wet and steaming clothes and bags and a muddy bicycle, I called my wife. When she answered I sang my new song: "I AM...a RANdonneur! I AM...a RANdonneur!" as I choked up with many mixed emotions.

Sidling up, latching on, and pestering led me to discovering for myself the truth of what not-quitting means, and I had completed my second ever brevet. Thanks, John.

What is the answer to the question: Which is Worse: Unceasing You-Know-What or No Gears?

The answer is: Neither.

Keep it and keep it and keep it curious,

CurioRando