It started with a hiss…Aka The Blow out special

Not, not the sort inducing squeals of delight at the prospect of treating oneself to end of season kit at a serious discount, I’m referring to those inducing heavy hearts and fevered pannier/wedge pack rummaging for tyre levers, spare tubes and/or patch kit. Sources suggest we’ve had a months’ rain in a matter of days, slightly ironic given the hosepipe ban currently enforced here in the UK. A quick wander around the web brought me to the central Asian republic of Uzbekistan, it wasn’t long into a late afternoon meander before my mind adventured to faraway lands, their people, the culture, architecture all captured via compact system camera and successive memory cards. Swooping into a left-hand bend coincided with torrential cloudburst as water cascaded from the saturated fields, washing silt, shards of glass and other debris across the single moderately surfaced carriageway.

A gritty sound suggested some had begun clogging the Univega’s portly expedition rubber but before I could draw to a halt and purge its water channelling grooves, sharps ripped through the Kevlar casings and burrowed through thorn resistant tubes with a sickening hiss. Holed up in an empty field, I began rummaging in panniers for the first aid kit-spare tube, patch kit, tyre levers, pump etc. Cursing myself for leaving the Co2 inflator indoors, mercifully 550 strokes from the PDW frame fit brought us 80psi and back on the road. However jubilation proved short-lived with a further two glass torpedoes infiltrating the tyre’s armoured casing. Moral sinking quicker than said carcass, I was yards from Uncle Benny’s so wheeled us to the shelter of his veranda. 

In stark contrast to our relatively private personas, we have an unspoken, open house philosophy towards each other, having grown up in the same street. It wasn’t long before coffee, cake, sympathy and a very welcome track pump was placed beside me. Intermittent chat and banter suggested the stem on his road bike left him stretched that twenty millimetres too far.

By my reckoning a 90 should restore a sense of equilibrium. Tubes patched and tyre emergency booted, I swung a leg over the Univega’s top tube and beat a hasty retreat before Mother Nature could unleash another round of thunder, lighting and monsoon rain reminiscent of those opening scenes in An American Werewolf in London. Fifteen minutes later we’d made it home and had begun swapping tyres, consigning the rear Schwalbe to my cannibalise pile, swapping the front to the rear and refitting a 1.75 section Michelin to the front. Convinced I’d solved the problem, I popped out the next afternoon for a quick fifteen miles…

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.

Sordid

People are an endless source of curiosity…Twenty odd years ago, I was discussing the pros and cons of old school rollers and turbo trainers with a coachbuilder and seasoned clubman at his workshop. He cast me a concerned gaze and asked me the identity of my proposed “slave” bike; “You’re not riding a Peugeot?” “No, a Raleigh”; I replied, his demeanour relaxing as he produced a sheared fork steerer and Peugeot branded 531 blades. “I’ve to braze this one back for a club mate-seen quite a few recently-seems they can’t withstand the twisting forces and it doesn’t help that some people like to honk.” Climbing out of the saddle- on the indoor trainer (!) Oh well, guess you can’t legislate against stupidity, takes all sorts to make a world, other clichéd reflections ad nauseam…

Often I disengage my racing mind from the day’s endeavours by wandering round the web late at night, in totally different directions from my profession. Frequently this leads to urban exploration-abandoned buildings, factories, and industrial sites. One such meander brought me to a site dedicated to long, lost, forgotten and ignored areas of London whether it be wartime defences, public houses, bunkers or abandoned houses.
Strangest of all was the curator’s collection of disused toilets. Having meandered chest-height through vile smelling waters while investigating disused military bunkers in Jersey, I couldn’t imagine their appeal. Public toilets often invite all manner of activities for which they weren’t intended. I recall as a very small child, my mother being frightened to enter one in Chelmsford because a woman was laid on the floor, threatening to commit suicide. I’ve found people unconscious, needles protruding as if javelin from their arms; overheard violent beatings and witnessed a host of similarly sinister events over the years.
Coinciding with the return journey of a ride to the now sorry looking remains of Danbury Palace came the full-bladder shuffle. Locals might contradict me but the hedge option wasn’t available so I persevered, dropping down the cassette to negotiate one final ascent before the leisure centre car park facilities.

Two minutes later and with the Univega tethered to suitable ironwork, I dashed to a flat-roofed embodiment of 70’s architecture. An unmistakable stench of urine and faeces confirmed this was the privy that time, planning departments and cleaning contractors’ clearly forgot-a distinct lack of lighting accentuating the sense of menace. Men hovered round the main overflowing porcelain troff, some silent, others more vocal in their relief.
Preferring the privacy of a cubicle, with desperation in the driving seat, I nudged the door open with these Polaris Bojo, deftly leaped over the trail of human excrement clearly leftover from an evening’s scatological scrabble and emptied my bladder, averting my gaze in an attempt to temper urges to vomit. Phone numbers touting sexual favours adorned the textured ceiling and I was torn between a sense of “so long as it’s confined to consenting parties” acceptance and downright revulsion. Broken sanitary facilities deepened this repugnancy but mercifully a bijous pack of baby wipes sits in the bottom of my pannier for such emergencies. Outside and in stark contrast, a steady precession of people carriers ferrying three generations of family sought their rightful places in the parking bays. A quick rummage through my lockable pannier unearthed the wipes and arsenal of LED lighting that might otherwise vanish. Reasoning I had deferred drafting a very specific, book project synopsis long enough, it was time to churn home at a more purposeful pace.

Un-tethering the tubby tourer, we rejoined the steady procession of mid afternoon traffic and I cursed myself for choosing 3/4lengths over traditional tights since the air temperature had plummeted to around three degrees, my calves steadily assuming the pallor of raw steak.
By contrast, these Michelin Country Rock were a prudent choice, moulding limpet like to the slimy, battle scarred asphalt. Identical in diameter to the Vittoria Randonneur trail, lighter, supple casings translating into a more spirited passage over paved surfaces while equally competent across dry, dusty trails. Forgoing the belt and braces Kevlar sandwich opens the door a little wider to the dreaded hiss but in my experience, this seems largely negated paired with thorn resistant tubes. Only time and some serious winter miles will tell…

April's Advances

After several months in hibernation, the Teenage Dream was gently roused from its slumber for some frisky back road frolics. Fifteen miles without so much as glipsing a John Dere. Still, I'm sure we'll relive those heady days of old school tractor racing in the coming months. Arriving home, it became apparent that the rechargeable lighting system designed to facilitate extended early season play times was aeathetically unbearable and needed tidying with immediate effect. Running the cabling beneath the top tube courtesy of black zip ties seemed the obvious solution but then I didn't fancy bringing the bike into the kitchen every time the ni-cad battery needed mains charging. Rummaging through the spares bin returned a better reward in the form of two Velcro pump ties-perfect! Elsewhere, a tweak of the Allen keys sees a bottle mount nipped tight with the Cinelli Mini Sub 8 re-aligned for greater speed and comfort.

While not my choice for trophy steeds, pattern parts are often perfect for winter/trainers and the Look copies are prime examples. Bikes are works in perpetual process- how many times have we upgraded the pampered pet and passed the older part-worm stuff along the fleet? Every so often I'm taken by the urge to perform wholesale drive train cleansing in favour of something more contemporary.

Objectively this would bring the "quaint by modern standards" race frameset bang up to date but doing so misses the point- there's memories, not just miles tied up in those Mavic rims, Campagnolo Athena hubs and Victory Mechs. Contemporay groupsets excite for different reasons, not least as there is a fine line between appreciating the past and living in a romanticised version. Emergent brands, most notably Mircoshift and Sun Race (the latter assumed Sturmey Archer) compete handsomely on price and performance with the established marques. Should the household names assume a dismissive complacency last witnessed within the British motorcycle industry some forty years ago, these newcomers could change the landscape of mid-high end groupsets forever.

Joshua's independence brings with it a burgeoning interest in racing and technical skill. Joining me in the garage, I swapped the Univega's mainstay Schwalbe for the 1.75 section Vittoria as he expressed a quiet disdain for the tag-along, citing a lack of comparable control/engagement. This is to be expected and I've a feeling on this occasion a more refined model wouldn't alter his view.

His single speed BMX continues to serve him well and will remain the mainstay machine until he acquiries the necesary experience and mechanical empathy required for competitive riding. I am determined that his next mount will not be off the peg but based around a used 4130/7005 series XC MTB frameset refinished in a powder coat livery of his choosing and carefully selected components from the spares bin. Six/Seven (or possibly eight) speed drivetrain, 24" hoops affording a good choice of narrow slicks and trail rubber coupled with big wide drops. This might sound an unusual combination but neans with a change of tyres/cassette he can taste road, cross and XC racing all on one bike. Should he wish to specialise, it will serve as a very dependable and relatively inexpensive everyday mount.

Spring Cleaning & Phantom Squeaks...

Inspired by my last entry, I'm pleased to report, said charger is directly compatible with the NR150 which means there's much less traffic at my computer tower-trivial but strangely satisfying. By contrast bike theft is anything but and set to get worse as the economy plummets.

Timely then that this Pinhead security kit should arrive at my door. It's a very clever system that limits the need for a jailer's key fob, safeguarding expensive wheels and finishing kit from all but the most determined tealeaves. Working to the same principles as the common or garden Yale employed in external doors, each has it's own unique nine digit combination and matching key (Be sure to register this online before venturing out into the big wide world in case you should need a replacement!). Fashioned from stainless steel and tipping the scales at 200g per set, installation is simply a question of removing the existing skewers and slotting the Pinheads in place with the logo visible from the right hand side.

Drop some machine oil on the threads before slipping the washer and threaded nut finger tight. Using the key, torque everything down (between half and one and a half turns) giving components a quick tug to check purchase. Operationally, they're no slower than conventional cams so punctures/ generic servicing/adjustment is a moot point. Domed caps prevent tools gaining purchase and/or leverage and unlike chrome plated types, they're not foxed by powerful magnets.

Lightening the mood somewhat, Alan has laced the Rigida rim to the dynohub and to date I'm very impressed- there's markedly less resistance compared with the venerable Nexus it replaces. That said, it's one of those "close but no cigar" stories since I haven't procured the front lamp yet, although I happened upon my old Nexus switch so when it comes, I'll wire everything up and (hopefully) rejoice in the ability to generate my own light. That said, I won't be ditching the NR or helmet mounted systems since the lanes here are virtually pitch black and besides, even the most reliable can fail unexpectedly...

Integrated systems are not limited to the bike either judging by Bell's new Muni lid. Bell define it as an "Urban sports helmet"- it incorporates two very bright LED lights within the retension cradle, there's a mount for Blackburn's flea within the peak and our "Safety Yellow" model looks really rather fetching, proving that the word "commuter" needn't translate as "Oliver Cromwell Piss-pot". In mould construction coupled with its conformity to CE1078 and CSS are pretty much a given these days. Twenty-one vents with an insect net ensure a comfortable inner climate while the peak defends the eyes from sun, rain, sleet and ferocious foliage. Versatile, it features everything you'll need for urban duties while being practical for touring, mountain biking and general riding but I'll give it a good few weeks before arriving at any firm conclusions.

Self confessed polishing zealot, it will come as little surprise to discover Joshua has embraced bucket and brush and we've been pleasantly surprised by Muc Off's Silicone spray which goes on in a flash, locking in a lasting shine without enticing dirt. Sure, you'll collect traces following a wet ride but this wipes away effortlessly using kitchen paper or damp cloth. These qualities suggest it's the obvious preserve for seasonal playthings hibernating during the darker months-Watch this space... Being a leggy chap, we've raised his saddle a couple of inches and since we had the spanners out, added these rather fetching Crank Brothers Cobalt grips for greater refinement.Elsewhere, I have been driven to distraction by the onset of an infuriating squeak that seemed to reappear just as I thought I'd identified the culprit and brought him back into line. Stopping by the roadside, I discovered the Univega's twin bolt clamp bolts were fractionally loose so snugged them fully home with the corresponding 4mm Allen key... A mile or so later, just as we lined up for the descent... There it comes again(!) This time it was my uber long 8mm offering to the rescue, nudging the drive side crank arm tighter, at which point, the Crank brothers M17 was pressed into service, checking and tightening every bolt large and small from carrier to stem.

Satisfied of perfection, the serenity of silence was rudely interrupted.... Convinced it was the soles of my sport touring shoe chafing slightly against the nylon platforms of these otherwise Superb dual-purpose Time All Road, I resigned myself to putting a drop of oil on the mechanism upon reaching home. Closer inspection exonerated the mighty ATAC derived pedals and revealed a slightly sloppy cassette body- easily addressed with the mighty Cyclo tool. Having exorcised the demon, it was time to change the bar-wrap....

Snow Joke!

Snow is big news here in the UK, although to be fair, the last few winters have been quite dramatic as a result. The much promised white-out finally hit this corner of the South East on Monday night/ early hours of Tuesday morning. Frustrated by a lack of creativity and working on the basis conditions would be fine so long I took it gently; Univega and I popped out to test some kit and chase the blues away. Once we'd negotiated the lanes, main roads seemed relatively clear so I increased the tempo to 14mph monitoring every tyre rotation for sheet ice and anything else that might result in an intimate encounter with Terra firma. Deserted backwaters are always a bad bet and quickly present a false sense of security. Two and a quarter miles into our twelve mile saunter, Mother Nature reminded me of her unyielding superiority. Negotiating a slippery section, I un-clipped my left foot and was paddling through when the otherwise exemplary Schwalbe lost traction- attempts to counteract the inevitable proved futile. Miraculously, I caught the bike's fall so, completely unscathed, we continued and ultimately finished the excursion as planned. Ironic then that these Continental Nordic Spike 120 should arrive the next day. As the name suggests, these are an extreme conditions tyre designed to cope with ice, snow, sleet and slush. Available in 700c, their 42mm profiles can present compatibility hassles with more traditional 'cross, touring and hybrids while 900g a piece might seem unpalatable to some but with notable exception, they're the safest tyres for treacherous roads and indeed trails. Bearing striking resemblance to the archetypal cross country mountain bike tyre, the open tread ploughs through the snow while 120 steel studs provide the traction, biting deep into the ice beneath. Phenomenal braking and cornering prowess along with ultra dependable three-ply casings inspire confidence and speeds of around fifteen mph, although sharp acceleration-say entering a roundabout can induce momentary losses of grip. Given the level of performance, £80 for a pair is money well spent-especially those of us employed on a "Don't work, don't eat" contract basis who can ill afford time off and a crash damaged steed into the bargain. Being critical, reflective sidewalls would've been a nice touch and I'd love a 26 inch (MTB) version!
Markedly cheaper performance upgrades are these pro series cantilever pads from Jagwire that offer plenty of smiles per mile at £10 for a complete set. To my surprise, they're compatible with all rim types from polished alloy to ceramic and carbon exotica, toeing-In's a cinch and (decent cables allowing) will transform the modulation and feel of older designs (e.g. mid nineties Shimano M system) employing 7mm threaded stubs. Better still, the secret formula all-conditions compounds are cartridges so simply slip out of their shoes with the help of a two millimetre Allen key should you fancy something less generic. Whether a Christmas treat for the working bike or a stocking filler "thank you" to someone special, it's hard to see where you'd go wrong.

Reasoning a top mounted axillary lever might facilitate greater control, enhancing our centre of gravity when scrubbing off the speed in inclement conditions, I offered this rather befitting Specialized model to the bars. Ball burnished satin, black, 31.8 diameter complete with hinged clamp it was the perfect, unobtrusive cockpit compliment... However, said lever scampered back to the spares drawer once it became apparent the WTB are only over size at the bulge diameter.Inviting the tubby tourer into the kitchen for a well-earned polish presented the obvious opportunity to fit this very fetching pink wrap. (Being a test sample, you takes pot luck) but the macho boys will be relieved to hear there's a choice of several primary colours too. Teasing aside, it's remarkably generous and very compliant, winding elegantly around the most extreme drops- perfect for those Midge/ Major Taylor's. Often, less expensive wraps are let down by poor adhesives but these sit just where they're put yet remain tolerant of surreptitious unravelling. First impressions seem favourable but long, steady winter miles are key-especially when it comes to such a pale hue. Now, I'm looking for a nail varnish to match the frame's metallic red... there's this small but infuriating nick along the top tube......