Death of a Wingman

Alas after a particularly spirited coastal ride atop my handlebars, an untimely, slow-speed spill saw my cutesy little camcorder friend choke seemingly to death, having ingested seawater. Despite concerted resuscitation efforts at the scene, he hasn’t so much as flickered since.

Now, I am culpable on two counts (sob) (a) having left his airtight polycarbonate house at home since I wasn’t planning on getting near the water’s edge or indeed anything more challenging than smooth singletrack. (b) I opened the casing in an attempt to avert disaster. Arguably the most effective means of voiding warranties perhaps but nonetheless I approached Delkin Europe, volunteering this information with a view to repair (at cost to yours truly).

Cynics will be rolling their eyes but in my experience, shaggy dog stories quickly become apparent and their purveyors treated with palpable contempt…Hmm yes, TIG welded 4130 mountain bike framesets failing catastrophically while “Just riding along”, rear mechs that suddenly fail after a fortnight. So that ten-foot drop-off hadn’t a hand in things…Bottom line, pros of any description aren’t silly, quickly spot tell-tale signs of abuse/neglect/tampering and are justly unappreciative of having their intelligence insulted.

A few polite emails later reveals these units are literally factory fit n’ forget, thus cannot be repaired in the event of impact or water damage. Ultimately, we couldn’t reach a mutually agreeable arrangement regarding a replacement  so with no hard feelings, I’ll put it down to experience and keep my eyes peeled for a comparable alternative. By contrast, that VDO X1DW literally hasn’t missed a beat these past few weeks and is much easier to install/calibrate than the plethora of cable ties might suggest. Solid, reliable technology and eleven functions provide plenty of useful data for generic training without feeling overly complex.

While busy, the display stops short of overcrowded-it took several outings before I noticed the little pacer arrow that sets an encouraging as removed from nagging tone. Unlike speed sensors, wireless cadence units still tend to be reliable by varying degrees, reliant upon magnets passing a hair’s breadth from their metaphorical mother ship. Attaching the former to differing profiles of crank arm seems to be another chore since zip ties show a tendency for slippage with subsequent loses of connectivity. Fear not, the VDO is very quick to announce this fact courtesy of a flashing zero tucked adjacent to current speed, though thankfully this vanishes after ninety seconds or so, thus not distracting rider attention, or spoiling an otherwise satisfying ride.

Creature of the night, I consider backlights invaluable and its omission a slightly disappointing oversight but one I’m prepared to overlook when build quality and asking price are factored into the equation. Elsewhere, the book venture has been gathering further momentum-managed to fit in another 3,000 words, which doesn’t sound particularly notable but little and often is markedly better than bouts of sporadic intensity. 

A pronounced silence from traditional publishers draws me ever closer to the world of electronic e-book type, something of a dent to my fragile male ego perhaps but having it languishing in hard drives and memory sticks isn’t an option. I laid down a personal challenge to get a book to publishable state before hitting forty-a milestone thing that would draw a positive line under the previous decade. Talking of which, having left theatre following corrective surgery to my crushed digit, a woman working in a quasi-nursing/patient liaison role blundered into the side room where I was decanting gowns in favour of street togs and seemed determined to probe. Like most people, I have some minor insecurity body-wise - scarring from welding and others acquired from cycling/motorcycling specifically.

For the most part I don’t give them a second thought, though she seemed oblivious to the verbal cues indicating that I wanted a few moments privacy to button my shirt. Had she asked if it were permissible to converse with me while I finished dressing, I could’ve gently asked her to leave but instead she continued to pry, focusing upon my age, what I was planning to do for my fortieth birthday etc. I’m also a little sensitive about my age these days but only in relation to attainment. Introspection of this kind was extremely unwelcome, however well-intentioned… 

Long steady evening saunters on the fixer have resumed, restoring my confidence accordingly. Much to my surprise, Purple Harry dry lube is also proving pretty competitive, returning 160 miles from a single helping. Unlike the Finish Line Ceramic Wax, it employs a plant based ethylene thickener, which remains pretty flammable, though has lesser environmental impact than boron nitride and similar petrochemical agents. Assuming you’ve introduced as per instructions, left curing for sixty minutes or so before heading off; staying power is surprisingly good. In common with other emulsion types a slightly grimy patina proliferates the links given thirty miles, whereupon it steadily flakes away, leaving behind a seemingly invisible PTFE coating yet no hint of that familiar metallic tinkling.

Contrary to some other markedly similar formulas it also works wonders on other interfaces, namely cleats, jockey wheels and even control cables without recourse to unexpected water displacer surgery on account of them gumming up given a week or so. Soggier conditions take their toll on outright longevity, dipping to sixty-five miles between top-ups when negotiating soft singletrack but reapplications in most other contexts can be direct sans chain bath/ scrubbing. These attributes shouldn’t be overlooked in a touring context either, though be prepared to reapply more frequently in damp and indeed humid conditions. Speaking of touring, you’ll have to excuse me; this here Raleigh Sojourn’s a calling…

Subversive Streak

Well the present administration, despite being so openly critical of police states and similarly repressive regimes seems determined to snoop with free abandon on the email, skype, Internet, text and telephone activities of everyone in the UK. Some folk have retaliated by infiltrating government websites or being party to other civil disobedience. Tongue firmly in cheek, I have chosen to procure a transcript of Mr Gadaffi’s Little “Green Book”. Rather akin to the ancient Sanskrit texts and Antonio Gramschi’s prison notebooks, its authenticity is somewhat questionable but interesting nonetheless. By the same token, surveillance is hardly a modern phenomenon in this country-the authorities monitored many, many people (including my late father) through the late 1950s and beyond. Many cold war installations, thought to be dormant and abandoned were anything but… Further afield, Poland and neighbouring countries are dotted with mysterious ex military bases, which I’ve always yearned to photograph but for reason or other haven’t had the opportunity. Time to badger family in these regions more convincingly perhaps…

As for Muammar, he has little to say on the subject of riding fixed, let alone perfect chainline- a shame since some gut wrenching sounds emanating from the Ilpompino’s newly appointed Gusset implied a rogue or stiff link. Stopping at a convenient point by the roadside, I whipped out the Ice tools wrench, slackened the track nuts and drew the wheel further back along the frame ends, improving chain tension-restoring serene silence and rider confidence. Cantering up to 25mph, we rejoiced in the near empty lanes and chill, spring sunshine. Dyed in the wool traditionalists will justly remark that the S link and comparable half-link brethren are notably heavier than the Miche it replaces but phenomenal rigidity is immediately apparent whether accelerating hard on the climbs, stealing away from the lights or transmission braking. For the time being, it’s dressed only in the factory drizzle, not least as thee seem notably more resilient than the aftermarket potions we put our faith in.
Elsewhere it seems there are infidels in the postal service with items taking some considerable time to arrive. Any organisation of this magnitude is likely to attract a small rogue element and the majority of postal workers are as honest as the day is long. However, things are likely to worsen thanks to widespread use of email, fax and courier services and the apparent inevitability of privatisation. Raleigh have sent me a delightful book celebrating the marques 125-year history. Some have said the brand lost out to sexier marketing but their specialist division produced some iconic top-drawer mounts through the 70s, 80’s and 90s.

Ridden to victory by professional teams, frames carried other manufacturer's decals too. Raleigh also brought Univega to these shores for a short while, although I’ve always enjoyed importing unusual frames, components and clothing from overseas for personal consumption.

Talking of the tubby ruby red tourer, something wasn’t right as I twiddled along the climbs recently. With the crank at the bottom stroke, my legs appeared correctly extended. As the miles clicked by, my suspicions were aroused-the new seat collar’s binder bolt had stretched minutely, allowing the post to creep frustratingly inside the seat tube, marking the dun finish slightly-nothing serious and easily hidden but annoying nonetheless... Shame 400mm carbon posts don’t come in 26.0 diameter. Slackening said bolt and raising the post (with contrasting zip tie marker) by fourteen millimetres and nipping everything tight with the torque wrench solved that issue and prompted a wholesale checking of its other fasteners. Want has a set of eight- speed Microshift or Sun Race brifters in its sights but need suggests another thousand miles, or ten weeks will call for a replacement bottom bracket. Only the front mech, Ultegra bar cons and headset remain of the original build. Wondering how many Alpina 506 are still whizzing along the highways and byways and moreover, in what guises, I had a quick sprint around the web, confirming a high OEM spec (Deore LX/XT) back in the day, with a few pleasingly updated in cross country mtb dress but nothing more intriguing.

Water Sports.....

No, look elsewhere if you're after the sort involving bodily fluids. We've been hit by a band of low pressure, bestowing monsoon rainfall of the type more commonly associated with epic melodramas. Harbingers of doom proclaim the end of summer but these are perfect conditions for real-world conditions for product tests.

The good folk at Moore Large (http://www.todayscyclist.co.uk/) have left me Knog's Dry Dog to play with. Our seventeen inch version is big enough to hop inside and on the strength of recent long, steady rides-completely waterproof (even submerged during river crossings) thanks to the sonically welded 1200 denier PU fabric. Acres of bold, reflective detailing ensures 180 degree visibility, which is an absolute godsend whether chasing along country lanes in the dead of night or tackling the usual town centre malaise. Similarly, Rixen Kaul click-fix systems inspire confidence over the roughest roads and trails, accommodating most gauges of rack with a deft flick of the Phillips screws. Asymmetrical design allows it to ride either side and this extends to the webbed shoulder strap which shares a similar profile to the pig-dog. A splash of cartoon nudity is the only thing likely to divide opinion and for my part, I'm indifferent but some office/environments might not be so liberal.

Having discovered the Univega's Kenda Ultralite tube mysteriously perished at the valve stem, it now lives on as a top-tube protector, which ironically coincided with the purchase of another patch kit. Mean and rueful of the glue-less breed, finding they either don't adhere at all, or slowly peel away, I'll stick with that little tube of vulcanising solution. Leaning bikes by their top-tubes is something I avoid wherever possible but on those occasions calling for intimate relations with street furniture, the old inner tube trick protects paintwork and thin-walled tubing from unnecessary nicks, scrapes and dings.

Freedom to choose (or at least make genuine choices) should never be undervalued. I've been exercising my right to ride sans lid these past few weeks and it has raised a number of interesting points. Firstly, other riders seem more inclined to acknowledge me-regardless of genre or tribe while drivers pass with greater caution and distance. Having worn helmets for the best part of twenty-three years, going totally bareheaded doesn't come naturally-hence the traditional clubman's cap, providing protection from the sun's glare and wind-chill. However, the lid has been resurrected to coincide with these rather tasty new lights from Moon. The creatively monikered X500 is a five hundred lumen, five mode, high power commuting lamp designed for either handlebar of helmet fitting.

Early impressions suggest commendable build quality and output relative to competitor brands, although I have some reservations concerning the lack of peripheral illumination-a moot point perhaps when used as a secondary system but otherwise a consideration when emerging from unlit side-roads, junctions etc . This aside, a choice of wall or USB charging is particularly welcome, although run times in the upper modes don't favour extended nocturnal playtime. Several weeks' thorough testing will reveal all. Elsewhere we've the five LED Mask with detachable covers for perfect colour contrast/coordination and its sixty lumen Shield sibling. Perfect on paper for desk-bound commuters I'm looking forward to putting these through their paces. Our samples were supplied by Raleigh UK (http://www.raleigh.co.uk/) should you fancy a more detailed run down before I return with a more detailed evaluation complete with "Beam" shots.

"I reject your reality and substitute it for my own" is an undeniably witty retort and I am fully aware that stupidity cannot be legislated against. However, there are people who cannot see the correlation between Russian roulette and overtaking on a blind bend. The photograph here depicts the aftermath of a head-on collision between an MG sports car and Ford Mondeo, resulting in critical injuries, necessitating three hour road closure. I realised the gravity of the situation upon spotting a lone stretcher and two police officers gesticulating in between periods of protracted discussion. Nineteen years previously, a cyclist in his early twenties was killed having struck a postal van. Talk focused upon the rider's helmet omission and according to eye-witness reports, the stationary vehicle wasn't badly parked-a genuinely tragic accident resultant from a momentary lapse in concentration.

There prevails a curious myth that simply passing the car test (along with examinations per se) qualifies individuals as competent drivers when in fact it merely proves they were assessed as being suitably safe to be allowed to operate a vehicle on public roads without supervision. There are no shortcuts to road craft as the proliferation of fatalities amongst thirty-somethings who acquire motorcycle licences via intensive course and on large capacity (typically 750cc) machines. By contrast cyclists and motorcyclists who adopt cars as another mode of transport generally "read" the road to a better standard, showing greater empathy for others.

Sermon over and since it's pouring with rain, I'll go testing.