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.

Shoot n' Squeal

With bike week and the diamond jubilee celebrations in full swing, it was perhaps ironic that the Univega’s cantilever mounting bolt should eject while I was negotiating a tricky junction. Instinct took hold and having leaned the bike against a road sign, I sprinted back to the intersection, eyes scouring the dimpled asphalt for these small, vital components. Mission accomplished and with functioning stoppers, we continued our backwater meander but then foul of the dreaded squeal. Cleaning the rims and purging glaze from the pads using Green Oils legendary citrus based bike wash and in the latter context, emery paper certainly helped but didn’t silence the banshee howl. Net effect, I resorted to replacing said pads with another set of the cheap but oh so cheerful Jagwire to coincide with some very interesting EVA based bar wrap, superseding the six month old Arundel Gecko grip that was looking tired through no fault of its own, repeatedly disturbed to facilitate cable/component replacement.

Joshua has suddenly rediscovered his solo, choosing to spend several hours’ on subsequent days cruising a combination of metalled road and green lane. He’s also been sharing in my love of derelict/abandoned places (virtually) while Uncle Benny muted a desire to cruise down to the former Soviet block with me to capture some of the disused airfields, military bases and similar wonderments that proliferate that corridor down to Russia. During those years when the iron curtain was drawn fully closed, my Uncle spent a disproportionate amount of time in Warsaw with a friend acquiring second world war military equip’ before returning with a wife!

Aside from a strange and some would argue, irrational love of MZ motorcycles- tough, reliable and extremely cheap (an ETZ251 in good order could be snapped up for £50 back in 1989) I’ll freely admit to a lifelong fascination with what lives behind heavily armoured doors, gates and houses in clearings…particularly if it had been deserted for any period.

Photojournalism depicting the uneasy transition from communism-its bleak alienation, anomie and substance misuse accentuated this desire to nip through the freshly drawn curtain. As we speak, I am gently badgering relatives in Warsaw for contacts, leads and indeed somewhere to stay for a week, few days even to capture such before nature reclaims, or worse still, someone decides to demolish it.  Meanwhile back in the blast cabinet Trevor and the boys are in the throws of transforming the 4130 expedition rack and bargain basement tune-up stand. I hadn’t realised quite how inexpensively it had been constructed until I came to dismantling…

Certain sections looked to bolted but were in fact bolted and welded in situ, the nylon seatstay hook apparently secured via 4mm Allen screws were in fact secured from the inside courtesy of two vertically positioned 10mm bolts… However, with some old school ingenuity and Joshua’s help it was ready for the blaster in a matter of minutes. After some deliberation, I’ve decided on a cheery Coca Cola red powder coat. Coupled with some name decals, it’ll make mine easy to spot at race meets…

Speaking of scrap metal “Any old Iron!” will be a call widely familiar to anyone in the UK. It originates from this profession who drive around collecting old metal goods people no longer want-washing machines, ironing boards, copper storage tanks etc from people’s doorsteps. Perhaps unsurprisingly, these have become increasingly prevalent in the recent economic climate along with a pronounced escalation in bike theft. It would seem along with the usual problem of bicycles being good currency for drugs and similar activities, metal thieves who have traditionally stripped abandoned pubs such as this one of lead, copper pipe, radiators and other valuables have taken to stealing bicycles en mass and selling them on for literally nothing as scrap-adding further insult to injury! 

Bad enough that the rightful owner should be deprived of something they doubtless love and cherish but to think of it being added to a pile of indiscriminate junk has me howling with outrage.  Unfortunately and for a time at least I can see this intensifying since, depending on which school of economics you subscribe to, we are only thirty per cent through the decline and with those sorts of statistics, I can see a generation who will prove not only long term unemployed but unemployable, with tragic consequences for the individuals, their families and the wider society. Trade is slow for freelancers like myself too but rather than fall into that hole of self-pity, I’ll partake of some Fentiman’s ginger beer (Belching improves creativity…) and put some serious hours into the book these coming days. 

 

Beating a Retreat

Sometimes, enforced leave's the best way to remain focused and moreover productive. Bang up to date with immediate deadlines and other planned works, I took a few days away from the keyboard to photograph petty women against gritty backdrops of urban and coastal decay. Had to do a fair bit of bobby dodging since police and private security firms are very prone to overzealous and dare I say, aggressive misinterpretation of anti terror legislation. On the flip side, there are those who do not help themselves, gaining access to buildings under the misconception that trespass is as serious as things will get, when in fact breaking and entering or indeed, criminal damage is more probable.

Sites of medical/industrial origin present other hazards including asbestos, pigeon faeces, biological/chemical pollution. Depending on their location, squatting and all that it attracts can prove a very dangerous cocktail. Some years ago, I happened upon an abandoned house in one of London’s most deprived districts. A trail of scorched silver foil blowing about this particular tenement was a clear indicator of what awaited me as I zipped through an adjoining alley leading to what remained of the back door…A couple, probably in their early twenties were desperately chasing another hit of heroin-it was to be their last. I took three shots through a 50-200mm lens before slipping into the high rd.  

Having prepped the Univega prior my departure, I noted a few fresh chips in its somewhat delicate flamboyant red enamel. Mercifully, a quick scout around Superdrug uncovered the perfect touch up stick-yep; nail varnish to the rest of us. Aside from pillar-box or Coca Cola, first-rate retouching of reds, especially those of the metallic persuasion is notoriously difficult. This particular brand dries in sixty seconds but I’ve applied two or three thin coats before allowing them to cure overnight.

On the subject of refinishing, the otherwise tough satin powder coat finish adorning the beefy expedition rack is beginning to tire slightly where panniers and other luggage sit so I’m toying with having it blasted clean and given a colour-coordinated rebirth. The other alternative is a phenomenally resilient industrial treatment known as plasti-coat. Applied in the same fashion as powder its commonly used on wrought ironwork and similar ferrous metals left in the most challenging environments. Given its notorious difficult removal –even with extensive chemical assistance, the faintest trace on threaded sections spells disaster so you’d never apply it to a frameset… Were I to take this route, I’d also ask if they’d mind passing this simple tune up stand through at the same time since the existing paint is firmly in dip n’ hope territory.

In the meantime, Rory at Upgrade has been kind enough to send me a bundle of goodies including Lezyne’s power rack elite-a beautifully executed TIG welded aluminium affair complete with 25 kilo maximum payload, this rather fetching, long handled pedal rod and Microshift Sti brifters. The latter are nine, as opposed to eight-speed, short reach examples heralding the Ultegra bar cons’ retirement and more or less completing the tubby tourer’s road biased, yet trail friendly evolution. Despite sporting an extra click, these index perfectly with eight while rivalling Tiagra in performance stakes. Elsewhere, a garage gremlin appears to have gobbled all my open ended ten millimetre wrenches-the sort perfect for nipping old school cantilever brake pads snug. Thankfully, much rummaging unearthed one of those awful but will- do- in- a- pinch giveaway types.

Product testing forms a major part of my work and these days it’s genuinely rare to find bad ones per se. Sure the odd howler, or rogue model crops up from time to time, sometimes with hilarious consequences. Most recently and falling into the latter camp was this otherwise super cheery house branded waterproof day pannier, ideally suited to quick release, post mounted racks. Swooping through the deserted backwaters with only a gentle breeze, moonlight and furtive scurrying emanating from the hedgerows for company, I was compiling a mental list of priorities when a blood-curdling rip as the pannier’s mounting hardware parted company with the weatherproof fabric tore through my serenity!

A modest cargo consisting of armoured cable lock, tyre levers, patch kit, spare tube, multi tool, pump, Co2 inflator, cable ties and compact camera hardly constitutes overloading but thankfully, the humble plastic ties were up to the job of lashing everything together, allowing me to complete the ride, albeit with one ear attune to further, untimely demise.

Naturally, I reported this to the distributor who are determining whether its an isolated fluke or symptomatic of a sub standard batch. Then came a trio of track pumps, which Joshua helpfully proclaimed looked like detonators, doubtless intensifying neighbourly suspicion. Lest I forget to seat a 700x23 tyre and tube properly, resulting in an ear shattering din otherwise those poor darlings will scatter beneath dining room tables, some hands on heads, others with the home office on speed dial…

Meandering through the monsoon: Helmet cams, Secret compounds & portable detonators…

Rain has remained a consistent metaphor for my somewhat downbeat mood these past few weeks but maybe it’s just a question of skies being darkest before dawn. A publisher popped up from behind the proverbial parapet keen for the book project to take off, subject to contact. Heartening though this is, congratulatory backslapping does not a book write. Sat under the shade of Uncle Benny’s Veranda, guzzling diesel strength coffee, we happened upon a light bulb cash-flow solving moment. I have a long held fascination for pattern parts, specifically electronics and am seriously looking into importing some for commercial purposes…speaking of electricals, I’ve been mightily impressed by the original Go-Pro Hero HD helmet cam.

Arguably superseded by its MKII sibling, build and image quality remain top notch, especially in 1280x960 mode thanks to a wide-angle f2.8 lens. Documentary filmmaking prowess aside, its had a very positive effect upon driver etiquette. All but the most ignorant/unlicensed/uninsured (and therefore untouchable) overtook and approached with greater courtesy. That said, it’s widely acknowledged that in tense inner city neighbourhoods, violent conflict can be sparked simply by a motor/cyclist making greater progress through stationary traffic, let alone potentially criminal driver behaviours being recorded. Generally user-friendly, it requires several trial runs for intuitive function and consequently, I lost some potentially hilarious footage on those initial outings. Similarly, it’s a little hefty worn atop a lightweight road lid longer than ninety minutes, so I’m eager to get hold of the recently launched handlebar mount.

Our celebrity culture isn’t a new phenomenon, people see a camera and either call the authorities, or loose all inhibitions. Two teenagers approaching me couldn’t have drawn more attention to themselves if they’d sported colossal white beards and red tunics. Even those who wouldn’t so much as manage a grunt couldn’t resist a breezy holler and one chap even indulged in a bit of ad-hoc business promotion (didn’t have the heart to tell him I’d got the weather and therefore, soundproof backing in situ!).

Extensive praying to the god of blowouts brought some lovely goodies. These Panaracer Ribmo arrived for the Univega courtesy of their UK importer (www.zyro.co.uk). Three hundred miles or so through flooded roads has left a very positive impression, although their profiles are closer to 1.6 rather than 1.75 inches as denoted on their sidewalls. This hasn’t negatively affected performance, especially cantering across metalled road but called for tyre levers when persuading their folding versions aboard common or garden cross country mtb rims. In the wake of this latest wave of terrorist paranoia, perhaps this beautifully executed Lezyne micro floor drive pump could be mistaken for a plastics explosives detonator when cadging a lift on the bottle bosses and perhaps best stowed away in the panniers. Subversive humour aside, its mightily efficient to a genuine 120psi, which is sufficient for all bar top-flight tubulars. However, care must be taken to avoid accidentally triggering the bleed valve when disconnecting the hose.

A fresh set of fetching Fibrax gear cables have brought renewed vigour to the tubby tourer’s shifting and I’ve resuscitated its cheap but oh so cheerful blinky whose switch had succumbed to the recent Bollywood monsoon conditions. Dismantled and left to dry at room temperature, I administered a slathering of Vaseline to the internals and repaired a hairline crack where seal and lens meet using Effetto Mariposa Carbo Grip. Essentially, it’s a sophisticated silicone resin assembly spray, designed for the modern, composite age but works a treat on a wealth of other materials/contexts including tri-bars, handlebar grips, bottle/carrier and fender mounts 

Elsewhere, The Teenage Dream was roused from hibernation with a set of these Fibrax Xtreme weather pads and I took this opportunity for a quick tyre swap in favour of those 25mm Freedom thick slicks-pretty much filling clearances to capacity while the pads stopping prowess saw me sit up and take notice. Perfect for winter trainers, I’d like to put their cantilever versions to the test on a laden tourer-just by way of comparison and mountain bikers will be interested to hear they’re also available in a V brake compatible format. Clever self-cleansing channelling uses rainfall to prevent muck/grit accumulating and scouring sidewalls-great news for less vigilant riders but those with swanky composite hoops will need to look elsewhere. Loquacious probing couldn’t reveal anything of their exact composition-apparently it’s a trade secret and native to Wales….

 

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.

Dropping down to Dovercourt

Easter was once a time when folk would heed the call to Church, feasting and prayer. Now, the masses descend upon DIY stores in their millions, partaking in an orgy of frenzied bodging-whether painting the spare room, erecting pagodas, paths and patios or attempting full-on domestic re-wires. Accident/Emergency receptions brim with hapless heroes, who’ve discovered the human body is a mightily efficient conductor of electricity, dropped paving slabs on their sneakered feet or nailed themselves to the flat pack furniture they were trying so desperately to erect. Joshua and I took the opportunity to drop by on Justin Burls and take a sneak peak at those lovely fillet brazed prototype framesets I mentioned a while back. Both are fashioned from a lovely Columbus tubeset topped off in either electric blue or rich, ruby red. Construction is, as might be expected, flawless-evidenced by this road fixer chassis finished in a clear lacquer topcoat, that will no doubt catch on amongst the fixer fashionista. Timing (Justin had just returned from the Bespoke Bristol show) and the weather conspired against a preliminary spin but for now I’ll tease you with a few photos….
My own fleet continues to evolve, courtesy the Ilpompino's new S-Link chain and a very swish locking seatpost collar for the Univega. Now, the latter are built to order from aerospace grade titanium by Atomic 22- a small-scale manufacturer based in Horsham, West Sussex. This kit is unique, not only in terms of materials but in that they can produce locking fasteners for pretty much every component on your bike, whether road, fixed or mountain bike, brifters, brake mounts, pedals, derailleurs, crank bolts, you name it, they can protect it. Fitting is best performed using a good quality torque wrench and 8mm socket but a ring spanner will also do the trick, since most of us don’t pop torque wrenches in with the patch kit when heading out for a quick twenty-mile blast.
Early impressions are good, although I’ve had an attack of the vapours on several occasions, trying desperately to reclaim the tiny unique key from beneath the fridge/freezer. Obviously replacements are available (£30 each) and much easier to obtain since keys are automatically registered to the rightful owner at the time of order. Presently, they’re looking to employ alternative metals without compromising strength, thus lowering the cost and broadening appeal. However, it’s no substitute for a decent lock, insurance and similarly sensible precautions since a truly frustrated Neanderthal could wrap your pride and joy around some street furniture…

Theft, particularly of metals and central heating fuels is becoming endemic and almost normalised by the present economic climate but I find these rationale's a very convenient justification for wantonly criminal behaviour. A friend’s storage barn was recently ransacked of copper piping and similar raw materials associated with his plumbing and heating business. Subsequently, he spent a day making effective repair and relocating a project car and essential tooling for fear of subsequent visitation. A happier re-homing came for my faithful Specialized Air Tool track pump; this now resides with my mother and her partner’s bikes. I had a choice of two replacements, including this super sturdy twin barrel Zefal, albeit with defunct pressure gauge.
Back in the saddle and there’s been lots to play with. That BBB chain and cassette seem to be wonderful bedfellows with the Univega’s a’la Carte drivetrain, not so much as missing a shift in four hundred miles. Quality of electroplating appears equally impressive and the factory marinade tenacious for the first two hundred but I’ve since reverted to a wax based dressing. Then came these aptly named Knog Blinder, which belt out a whopping eighty and forty-four lumens respectively. Gone is the iconic medical silicone in favour of anodised aluminium faces and a choice of five funky lighting patterns.
We’ve got the standard “dice” but noughts; crosses, stripes and arrows are the alternatives. Tipping the scales at thirty-five grams a piece, they’re hardly going to cramp the style of even the sleekest of road/fixers either. Performance seems generally impressive, visible in the "bobby-dodger" see-by sense to around 750 metres and rechargeable run times between two hours fifty three and 78.47 hours in top and eco-flash settings respectively. Overall, aside from the slightly swanky price tag, I’m genuinely very impressed and the quality has been tweaked a notch or so higher than the otherwise loveable silicone types too…Back to the book…




.

The trials and tribulations of the terrible triple…

Journeying through the mists of time, I recall a misspent youth cum school career with afternoons' spent sneakily pouring over the cycling press of that era. Enticed away from teachers’ dull and seemingly irrelevant pontification about their wife’s IUD, the world of work etc by the romance of faraway lands and their people. Obviously, this experience was aboard a heavily laden, ultra refined expedition tourer complete with top drawer tubing and cutting edge, mtb drivetrains with enough gears to ride up, down and along the Great Wall of China. Panniers bulged with magnesium bodied film SLR camera, lenses, rolls and rolls of film, pens and notebooks all documenting this adventure for press and publisher. Paragraphs from the buyers’ guides were quick to point out that keeping triple configurations in consistently rude year round health was something of a chore. Fast-forward twenty-four years and several configurations later; I’m inclined to agree. The most recent dig in the ribs came courtesy of the Sun Race chain’s unexpected breakage. Thoughtfully (In common with recently documented punctures) it had the good grace to expire at journey’s end, some hundred metres from my front door-not the back of beyond. Much soul searching gave way to opportunity. Time to strip, replace and perhaps reconfigure the tubby tourer’s drivetrain.

For starters I’ve introduced a New Shimano pattern nickel plated BBB chain and cassette to see how these shape up and a quick tweak of the front mech cable has righted the temperamental will it, won’t it clamber aboard the big ring. Continuing the health check suggests the rear LX is in early middle age, so aside from a cursory turn of the B tension screw and some very judicious lubrication cable and pivot points, it’ll remain in gainful employment. I am thinking of retiring the Ultegra bar cons in favour of “Brifters”. Shimano’s venerable Sora seem prime candidates since I don’t run linear pulls and received wisdom suggests in daily service, their operational lives are around the four, maybe five year mark.

My MTB based crosser cum working bike was initially conceived with Modolo Morphus units that were tuneable for either Shimano or Campagnolo seven/eight speed configurations. Bought as a bundle (bars, levers & wrap) for sixty odd quid, modulation and feel were excellent, although shifts clunky by modern standards even with an LX mech STX crankset and 11-19 straight through block. Brifters have the obvious vulnerabilities in the event of a nasty tumble but since my purebred crosser manages just fine I’m looking forward to introducing a set of suitable Microshift. In common with similar emergent brands, performance and pricing are ear- to- ear grin impressive on a scale reminiscent of Kawasaki and Honda’s impact upon the all but defunct British motorcycle industry back in the mid1970s.
There’s two variants-double and triple and I’m wondering how the left lever will cope with the 42, 32,22 Alivio rings since Microshift recommends 52,42,30. In practice and with a smattering of blind faith I’m hoping some divine influence will look kindly upon this here world-weary journo and a’la Carte drivetrain. Enforced leave from variable gears, coupled with the picture postcard spring weather presented the ideal opportunity for long, steady, reflective outings aboard the Ilpompino. I could pontificate ad pretentious nauseam about the Zen-like qualities of fixed and its ability to lift one into a meditative state but this is all deeply passé’ hipster-speak and there’s been no requirement on my part to appease this particular mindset, whether it be cycling or unrelated politic. Cliché’ might be truth in a processed and deeply over-simplistic form but its an irritant and something to be avoided at all costs.

Both book projects continue to gather momentum, albeit at different rates but there’s no room for complacency. My approach varies from a relentless need for progression during the week and being in the zone can mean simply typing during the day, editing at night or alternating between business emails, regular copy and book depending on which is most productive at that moment in time. Having organised drivetrain consumerables, I found myself galvanised into writing a related feature, which In turn lead to a thousand words or so invested in the cycling book and some serendipitous conversation with a distributor offering further inroads into the other book. Time waits for no man (sic) no favours has he.