Life & Lightweight Bicycles

I’m going to begin on a philosophical note germinated while bombing through deserted lanes on the Univega the other morning. Battling a curious and slightly unforgiving headwind while rejoicing in the whispering of the trees, thoughts sped through my consciousness at an equally fluid rate. The most profound of which were less concerned with the chapters of my book than metaphors for life. Sometimes situations mirror the experience of piloting 350lb middleweight motorcycles. Unlike a sub 20lb pared to the essentials bicycle, course cannot be altered by deft flick of the handlebars and you simply have to follow the line you’ve set. None is more appropriate when describing the process of writing. A certain element of blind “This must and will happen” faith provides the underpinnings while words are lain sequentially and as a process-rather akin to watching a skilled coach builder/panel beater construct, form and shape car bodywork.

Recent months have seen a sense of gradual and positive progression as the sections evolve and form a tangible entity. Yes, they remain in a raw, untreated state (rather akin to my derriere’ bedding in a traditional leather saddle) but nonetheless the structure continues to evolve into a readily refineable state. My late father used to remark that being too critical was the enemy of first drafts. Editing could come later and while the chapter or broader manuscript had been standing a while-afterall, these projects are century rides, not ten-mile sprint ‘till you’re lungs burst and legs scream with lactic acid” affairs.  Against this backdrop, it will come as little surprise that I have only caught the highlights of Britain’s commendable and heartening Olympic cycling successes.

This has also seen a (possibly temporary) resumption that fame/recognition lies with talent, ability and moreover considerable effort rather than simple celebrity or my old nemesis, nepotism. Sure, personality plays as part, as does luck but observation suggests that wider, global influences aside; the UK has been sunk by decades of competitive individualism presiding so disproportionately over co-operative communities. Arguments rage as to whether we have become de-skilled or if broadly similar skills are being cultivated within new industries. A coachbuilder once said to me that computer programming was relatively straightforward for someone coming from that, apprentice trained background. Intelligent children are being consigned to failure simply because they do not fit an extremely narrow academic artery. “University” has in many respects become the new national service, something that is a rite of passage. Indeed, I have heard many fathers refer to their children as being “On leave from Uni”.

Education and intelligence are often two very different things. A degree, or indeed postgraduate qualification is of little consequence if it has been learned by rote and the underpinnings of such theories lost upon the recipients.  I long ago left behind the notion of idolising people, simply because it becomes a recipe for disappointment. However, I would like to spend some time with David Bailey. Not because of his successes and influence as a photographer/image maker/artist but his embodiment of the meritocratic philosophy and intolerance for fools. Olympic security staff appears to fall into the latter category, prohibiting any camera with a detachable lens, supposedly to prevent unofficial press photographers sneaking in. My subversive streak chuckles at he thought of arriving with a cold war beauty.

This leads me nicely to WD40’s new specialist range. These shouldn’t be misconstrued as cycling specific but a fast acting de-greaser; penetrative spray and two weights of PTFE lube lend themselves handsomely to cycling duties. A clever articulated smart straw collar replaces that iconic red applicator that invariably made a bid for freedom beneath refrigerators, dog kennels and other inaccessible regions, allowing very precise, localised treatments whether you’re stripping drivetrain gunge or trying to persuade that lovely fluted seatpost free.

The banshee howl seemingly purged from the Univega’s 986 cantilevers had returned and try, as I might wouldn’t subside, forcing their substitution in favour of these Raleigh branded Alhonga. Uncannily similar to Tektro Onyx using an M system pattern straddle wire, set up proved a little tricky to start with but with a quick jot of PTFE spray on the balance screws and minute tweaks of the cable tension everything aligned nicely.

Modulation and feel are a little softer than the previous configuration but still reassuringly prompt and moreover, squeak free, although I might see what impact upgrading the pads has on proceedings. These BBB Dual ride combi have replaced the otherwise charming ATAC derived Time and are another impressive pattern design.

Comparison with Shimano’s venerable AP530 is inevitable, while the build quality is top notch, bolstered by ready spares availability from cartridge bearings and Cro-moly axles through to the stainless steel plate means they present a viable long-term investment. My one minor gripe concerns the tension adjuster isn’t the most conveniently tweaked with those 3mm hex keys common to most multi tools. Support to the feet is equally impressive, whether clipping along in cleats or scooting past lines of stationary/slow-moving traffic, where a quick dab-down can avert disaster. 

Returning to a lightweight theme, a cautionary tale concerning thin walled tubing and electroplating. This 70’s Carlton came through Maldon Shot blasting & Powder Coating’s doors for a blast and chrome effect powder transformation. Closer inspection and a quick tickling from the aqua blast revealed it had been previously re-plated and the residual acids had nibbled through the steel in key, structural areas.

Then came two Dawes. A 70’s bottle green, Birmingham built 531 Galaxy and this curiously fetching 500 Cro-moly training frame, somewhat reminiscent of my own winter build from the same period, save for mine ironically sported chrome uni-crown fork blades. Noteworthy on several grounds, the galaxy was something of an institution along with Claud Butler (Holdsworthy) Dalesman amongst the club/ touring fraternities. This particular model was being refinished in a “Brentwood” orange powder finish significant in so much as the livery in question had to be imported directly from the US…Right, back to the book.

Within my grasp

A mysterious spoke breakage on the Univega’s front hoop had both myself and Alan at Riverside cycles scratching our heads- I hadn’t plunged headlong into any holes, ruts or similar surface imperfection, evidenced by the fact it was still running perfectly true. However, he slotted in a replacement at a moment’s notice before going on a week’s holidays. Elsewhere, that Cinelli Caleido handlebar wrap has delighted on so many levels. Something of a curiosity, performance is on par with the ultra sophisticated polymer types, yet much easier to live with-spillages of energy drinks and similar beverages are easily chased away with a soft bike brush dipped in a bucket of mild sudsy water, without fear of stripping space age coatings, thus ruining all- weather grip.

Application is a little more involved than traditional corks though and the every so slightly rubberised leatherette material benefits from being left near controlled surfaces of heat, while you strip the existing coverings and gungy residue from the bars. This technique makes it all the more maulable for classic, swooping overlap. There’s plenty of it mind, even the Univega’s prodigious WTB drops allowed for some bespoke double ups for the last word in shock absorption, while powerful adhesives prevent your artistry unravelling as you reach for the finishing strips.

By the same token, it seems very tolerant of being rewound-at least during installation so perfectionists needn’t fret. Suffice to say, I’ve notched up fifty miles plus in bare hands, without so much as a hint of tingling, let alone more pronounced discomfort.

On the subject of mitts came the promise some beautifully crafted classics from Dromati. Evocative of those 60’s heroes powering up the dolomites on Peugeot PX10s, it came as pleasant surprise to discover they’re actually handcrafted in Surrey, a region in the UK more famous for its stockbrokers, rather than craftspeople.

Devoid of Ulnar defending blobs, or similar contemporary sensibilities they’re comprised of lightly padded cognac brown Nappa hide palms laced to knitted crochet backs- beautifully executed and priced to suit. Sure you could have the look for considerably less-cheaper materials, manufactured in southern Asia but this propagates so many unwelcome notions, demeaning traditional skills and legitimising sweatshop practices within developing countries.

After a brief interlude and some obvious calming of my scorched arms, the damp and dreary summer has reinstated itself, presenting excellent test conditions-especially for chain lubes and maintenance sprays, while washing local council hopefuls to my doorstep.

On the one hand, I come from a highly politicised linage and am pleased to see sustained interest in politics at a localised grass-roots level but on the other, their lack of underlying direction proved irksome and I had chapters to compose and other work to bid for. Another steady gig or two would be very welcome at the moment. I’ve been going through bouts of chronic block and phenomenal productivity at the moment, especially with the book and sometimes, good discipline is confused with staring at a screen.

During the down periods, I’ve been visiting locally derelict sites (within forty miles) and drawing inspiration, trying not to attract attention or be confused with metal thieves-a perennial problem around industrial compounds and a far cry from the days when children played in the bombed out shells of post war Britain’s inner cities. Such ruins were often credited with launching the careers of photography’s “black circle” during the 1960s- the most famous being David Bailey. While genuinely in awe of his creativity, hold a greater affinity with Terrance Donovan.

Both grew up just a few miles from each other (Newham and Tower Hamlets respectively) but sadly, while Donovan enjoyed measurable commercial recognition, he suffered from depression and consequently took his own life. Depression, rather akin to dyslexia is one of those phrases oft over used, little understood and heavily stigmatised. Granted, we all feel low from time to time and I’ve no problem with this in so long as it’s a passing phase, proving the catalyst for more positive outputs/outpourings. However, the genuine article is an entirely different thing.

To sunnier topics now and the new season’s lighting systems are slowly but surely coming on stream. Moore large have sent me some of their aptly named and super cheerful Torch blinkies, while Raleigh passed these rechargeable Moon comet, which enjoy a comprehensive range of very powerful settings. For the piers de resistance, Magicshine have dropped in their MJ880 2000 lumen and an even more powerful My Tiny Sun. Both are beautifully made and whose names imply Chinese heritage, although the latter is actually lovingly crafted in Germany. Now without further ado, I’m off to charge up and test these beauties and probably contemplate my own place in the universe.