Holdsworth...The Photo Love-Story Concludes

Having meandered back from the midlands, I spent two days contemplating life, the universe and subsequent moves from the Ilpompino’s recently moulded leather perch. Persistent, near vertical climbs also had me pondering the wisdom of an 81 inch gear. Hardly certifiable but something between 72 and 76 is nearer the mark for tarmac, 63 sans asphalt-not that I’ve taken this route on said beast for several years.

Sharing obvious similarities with IRO’s now seemingly defunct “Rob Roy”; describing these as “cross mounts with track ends” is a bit over simplistic, since their loftier centres of gravity require nimbler reflexes through more technical sections compared with a standard, geared mount. Not that plummeting temperatures haven’t presented their own challenges, potholes breeding at an alarming rate and many lanes under a thick, frosty blanket, dotted with black ice.

Fixed is ideal for these contexts, since it allows the rider to hold off against the cranks, slowing the rear wheel by very subtle increments, especially in situations where engaging one’s front brake would induce a skid and subsequent painful face-plant or broken collar bone. 

Muc-off’s CF3 dry lube continues to impress with its serene tenacity and relative cleanliness, making wheel swaps and puncture purging less socially awkward. Miles per application remains a consistent 175, even through soggy stuff, although enduro’s old guard are better served by wet ceramics and cleat mechanisms seem happier with heavy-duty Teflon/PTFE sprays.

Back in the comfort of my kitchen with warmth, running water and hot beverages in seamless supply, I commenced the final stages of the Holdsworth’s reincarnation. Contrary and unpredictable aren’t adjectives usually applied to yours truly but once again, the script changed on account of the front Halo hoop’s powder coated sidewalls being inappropriate braking surfaces.

Six layers of budget electrical tape later those Miche Xpress were dressed in 23mm Specialized rubber, axles treated to a precautionary lick of crystal grease to prevent unnecessary chafing of frame ends. Diagnostics and planning complete, even the most minimal builds can present unexpected challenges. Exit stage left my trusty workshop chain splitter, choosing this crucial moment to shoot its drive pin uselessly across the tiled floor and into oblivion!

Luckily, my Axiom compact multi tool exceeded all expectations, joining ends in matrimony with incredible finesse, leaving me to drizzle some CF3 dry into its parched links before taking right magnesium Keo homage in hand and cranking things over. Awestruck at the transmissions’ refinement, I repeated this several times before introducing a quick squirt of heavy duty Teflon prep to cleat and dual pivot brake mechanisms. Cable pruning complete, I sealed its end with superglue and tweaked Tri-Bars for more ergonomic effect.

Earlier foraging unearthed this colour coordinated, albeit elementary KNOG NERD computer and pattern spoke magnet. The head unit was calibrated to 700x35, demanding twenty minutes and an online memory jog. Ordinarily, chain tugs are derigueur, the fixed equivalent of cuff-links but these otherwise exquisite NJS stamped MKS offerings were redundant since chain length dictated the wheel slotted fully home. Project complete, he can resume hibernation until spring, leaving me to focus on commissions, deadlines and related matters. 

Home-brew kits are evocative of 1970’s middle-aged suburban men with dubious taste in jumpers and facial hair. Ironic then that one’s sibling felt this nostalgic staple a fitting yuletide gift.  Recalling one or two unfortunate, shag pile ruining detonations (induced, we think by over-zealous mixing/fermentation misadventure) I commenced proceedings from the safety of my bath tub, observing measures with religious precision. 

Decanting everything sequentially, stirring as instructed, I resumed interludes of pronounced creativity/inspiration. This serenity was rudely interrupted two hours hence by a sudden, unnerving hiss. Dashing to the bathroom, I was confronted by a torrent of partially fermented brown fluid spurting uncontrollably from the exploded valve tap.

Keen to avert that notorious scene from “The Shining” where water cascades uncontrollably through the hotel’s corridors, I grasped numerous PET bottles and averted certain “cascading through the ceiling” disaster. Said receptacles can remain safely ensconced in a quiet corner, while I pursue some business leads and steal a march on 2014.