Welcome to the Velodrome...I was too sick to attend the show

Whilst the fellowship of road fixers enjoys seemingly ever fertile ranks, the disciples of UK track racing, despite enjoying an elevated profile thanks to recent Olympic success feel something of a poor relation at grass roots level. The disciplines and rituals being treated with a suspicion usually reserved for religious cults rather than an exciting and relatively inexpensive branch of the sport.

Herne Hill velodrome is situated in an affluent, leafy suburb of an otherwise tough and uncompromising inner London Borough. A far cry from the post war hey days where it regularly enthralled crowds in their thousands-especially at Good Friday meets, it now limps from funding crisis to threatened closure. Casting sentiment aside for a moment, balance sheet valuation would suggest turning the site over to a developer for luxury housing-infinitely more profitable, even in the present economic climate.

Weary porta cabins soldier on as Spartan, yet serviceable office and toilet blocks. Behind lie huge steel containers playing host to a tired, unglamorous but reliable gas-pipe hire/training fleet, nine Meriden built Triumph Thunderbird 650cc motorcycles from a by-gone era where riders drafted behind, turning knee shattering gears in the hope of setting/breaking speed/distance records.

Another entertains motorised two-stroke bicycles known generically as "Dernys" originating in France and are now manufactured in the Netherlands. These were designed to pace the riders along- a common sight at six-day races and still do a turn at club-track meets thanks to the skill of some endearing, fanatical and dare I say, pleasantly eccentric pilots.

I have a certain fondness for the spectacle and excitement that such racing presents but through critical eyes, I can appreciate in these image conscious times how this might be perceived as quaint and comical-especially amongst a teenage audience where image is nigh on paramount.

I taught the rudiments of track racing (in an assistant capacity) for a couple of years-predominantly to this age group. Some were from very affluent homes and rode top-end Merlin’s, Trek, Specialized etc to school and at the other extreme were kids from the school of the streets- Tough, knowing and yet curiously naive/vulnerable at the same time.

Getting past the latter group's surly insolence; wise cracking and persuading them aboard the hard used track iron brought a miraculous transformation. Initially, it was outright fear that gripped them, their veins coursing with adrenalin and a sense of the unknown as they held tentatively to the guard rail. One by one, they gingerly set off, the fixed transmission responding to their every pedal stroke. Even the most nonchalant cultivated ear-to ear grins, their hardened devil-may-care cynicism replaced by a new found sense of wonder as they powered with escalating confidence around the circuit.

It was ironic, if unsurprising that the fastest learners were often the biggest pains in the ass and this occasionally leads to misadventure… One such convert in a moment of euphoria, threw his arms skyward in a victory celebration that would’ve rivalled a pro’s…For a split second he attempted to freewheel across the line, locking the transmission and pitching himself unceremoniously over the bars. Aside from shock and some minor laceration, he went on to compete in another race.

Most of those I tutored rapidly developed a new found respect and fascination for cycling and indeed, themselves-even the more timid and those with self-esteem difficulties came out of their shells to ride as if their lives depended on it, begging for that “One last lap” before the session closed. For this audience, I think the displays of velodrome tradition would’ve alienated as many as it inspired, leaving impressions of an elitist and eccentric activity that fails to connect with their view of the world.

The all weather surface lain in 1994 was designed for low maintenance as removed from four season’s competition and takes several days to blast clean with high pressure water jets come the spring. There’s been much talk of reconstruction involving an enclosed stadium rather like Manchester, catering for year round racing, a much higher profile and revenue to boot. However, cycling and niche disciplines are funded accordingly.

Let’s be clear, I am in no way detracting from the phenomenal time and energy put into the site by clubs such as VC Londres, Friends of Herne Hill Velodrome and many, many others. However, I am hoping that the resurgence in the road scene, courier chic and the underground alley cats, messenger Olympics etc might inspire more to give track a try.

Affordable machines like Fuji’s aptly named track are venerable, road-legal mounts more than capable of velodrome duties straight from the crate. Purists will doubtless disagree but for me, the messenger racing scene is a force for good and has the power through the medium of "cool" to bring about a marked turnaround in fortunes for struggling stadiums.

One Track Mind

I get a jugular buzz, would gladly kill for your love, can’t keep my eyes on you, you know you’re something new… Johnny Thunders

I concede I am a desperate junkie eternally looking for a fix. This addiction to all things two-wheeled knows not restraint. It starts innocently enough with the purchase of that entry level bike. Before long you're trying to beat the buzz from the last ride, little by little components are upgraded. That non descript, yet adequate black 10cm stem is replaced by a high lustre 9.5cm, 7 degree rise offering with ti fasteners, the bog standard, no-name single bolt seat post substituted for a 200g twin bolt, lazer etched unit, SPDs in favour of the OEM pedals and so the evolution continues.

Unable to resist that high end cro-moly frameset with a finish that has half the street salivating, the drawer that once played host to a collection of contact points and a pair of pedals has spawned a particularly fertile spares bin, reproducing on a seemingly weekly basis…

Suddenly, there’s a machine for all occasions, the back bedroom’s bulging, friends and family are finding their garages and basements colonised and you’re getting cold sweats at the thought of them having a clear out. Back in the late 80’s I knew of a man known affectionately as “Mad” Mark Silver. Mark’s passion was tandems and he had so many that Sedis (his Cat) moved out (!) An old school friend’s father had a similar love of Vespa scooters and must’ve spent twenty five consecutive years in his garage. We reasoned in our late teens that he clearly visited the house every now and then-after all he had two children...


Having lived in Utah and later California, I am very aware those of you based in the States are blessed by much larger houses with garages of equal proportion. In England a three bed house, modest garage and thirty metre rear garden is pretty much the limit for most ordinary folk. Oh for a dry basement and a workshop measuring 40ft x 20ft boasting heating, light, power and super fast broadband.

Obviously some recycling goes on amongst the fleet- the working bike/beater being the most frequent beneficiary but surplus stock is usually retained on the justification that it “ Might just come in handy”.

Typing this column has unbridled the beast of rationality, the one that roars " Liquidate some of your unwanted stock and plough the proceeds into new projects/ your latest heart's desire". The default medium is eBay but the prevalence of scams deters me- a shame given there's some mighty fetching framesets cropping up from time to time. Swap meets are another very obvious outlet but aren't nearly so popular in the UK which enjoys a tradition of cycle jumbles.

These are typically held at track/road race meets, manifesting themselves as table top sales full of older/unwanted kit. Quaint and often the place for a bargain but I like the underlying principle behind swap meets. There’s a whole heap of otherwise good stuff I could live without and a fair bit I would like to exchange it for. This compulsion is unlikely to find me lying dead in a New Orleans hotel room but like most dependency, it is probably quite wrong and conducive to a sticky end.

Elsewhere, Project Road Path has stepped up a gear. At the time of posting, the frameset remains firmly in the depths of an unnamed garage but I have found a suitable refinisher delighted to entertain the restoration. He even went to the trouble of taking me on a tour of the workshop, demonstrating the choice of chemical strip or gentle, yet effective vapour blast on a customer's aluminium frame. Threads are all masked off and cleaned thoroughly post painting and I can pretty much have any colour I please for the princely sum of £50...Watch this space...

Next: Let me go to the show- all the fun of the Cycle 2008 exhibition

Charitable Disposition

Fancy a tour of the former Soviet nations, turning a 76 inch gear and towing a laden Bob Yak? Dependant upon your persuasion, it’s either an amazing adventure forming the basis of a brilliant book, or a self indulgent, ego fuelled Gothic fantasy. Frankly, I think the former and all the more worthy if a charitable cause were to benefit (presumably a bonus could be negotiated for every border control you streak past…).

I'm no do-good er by any stretch of the imagination but feel we should all give to something, whether this by way of time or monetary donation. The sudden and totally unexpected death of my father last August prompted several months of soul searching, resulting in a planned ride to the summit of Mt Ventoux on behalf of Barnardo's the children's charity. Yes, I had intended the climb aboard a fixed (albeit using a 5 speed hub- is that the sound of sponsorship forms being torn to pieces?).

This doesn't merit further discussion here, primarily as the trip has been postponed for personal reasons and I’ve no time or respect for self indulgent bar room bravado.

The phrase "charity" conjures up images of massed start rides demanding months of administrative preparation. For many of us this is simply impractical. How about the members of your Tuesday night chain-gang chipping in a dollar for some worthy cause-it could be for a local hospice facing closure, granting a terminally ill child one special wish or simply treating a member of the group who's been going through the mill. Hell, why not build yourselves a collective hardship fund?

Components usually fail at the least opportune moment-often coinciding with an expiring washing machine/car/TV and/or tax demand. Sure, such schemes are open to abuse but managed properly, everyone benefits. Members of the group finding things tough could be gifted a new tyre/hub/chain etc to keep 'em rolling through the hard times. Come the end of the year, any surplus could be donated to a mutually agreed cause.

Sometimes bad things happen because good folk have done nothing....

Rides of the Falling Leaves-The Joys of Autumn

Autumn with its vibrant colours and falling leaves has always held very positive association for me. As a child, it signalled the arrival of another birthday and comensurate excitement. In early adulthood, I associated the season with times of great freedom and personal growth-leaving a small village for the big, not so bad city and a University education.

In a cycling context, there’s always been something quite exciting about hanging the best bike up, pampering the well dressed winter mount with fresh bar tape, new tyres, chain etc. I enjoy being reunited with my winter wardrobe, the silence of the lanes in the cold, bright mornings often contradicted by the strong and warming sunlight. True, there are fewer daylight hours but the advances (and falling prices) in lighting technology opens up a whole new dimension of riding pleasure.

October remains a very significant time in the trade calendar and I’m eagerly anticipating acres of shiny bike porn at the Cycle 2008 exhibition (held in London’s Earl’s Court between the 9th and 12th). Whilst on a smaller scale than Interbike, there’s still plenty to see with most larger manufacturers boasting a road biased fixer in their range.

Retro was very much en vogue at last year’s show with Condor’s Paris Galibrier and some very attractive steel offerings from the like of Fixie Inc. I was pleasantly surprised to find a stand of frames fashioned from Tange Prestige- a high end tubeset last commercially popular in the late 1980s. Most notable was a minimalist frameset finished in baby blue with chrome detailing-a great platform for a sunny days plaything.

Meanwhile, project road path,-my 1950’s TT build has ground to a temporary halt, complicated by virtue of said frameset residing in a friend of a friend‘s ex-wife‘s garage. At the time of composition, I’d stand a better chance of streaking through eastern block border controls than successfully retrieving it.

By way of distraction, I am channelling my energies into finding a suitable refinisher. Pageant blue powder coat leads the bunch at the time of this entry. Not sure whether to plump for a high lustre quill stem or to follow the modern Ahead and adaptor route. However, the cockpit will feature low pro/TT bars, colour coordinated bar wrap with reverse action lever and long reach dual-pivot sidepull taking the strain out of stopping.

Elsewhere an unused track crankset, Wellgo pedals, Miche chain, nearly new EAI superstar sprocket, Brooks saddle and Campagnolo seat post will play starring roles in this low budget, high thrills feature. Watch this space....

Next: Raising money for charity and a full report from Cycle 2008

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Far From The Maddening Crowd....

No, not a mispronunciation of Thomas Hardy's literary classic, I am referring to adventures sans asphalt- transporting oneself to a blissful, serene and Zen like Nirvana. Fixed might not seem the obvious choice just as it doesn’t for touring (yet I know of a few who swear by their fixers for laden weekend excursions).

With the right gearing and component choices there’s ample scope for green-lane and moderate singletrack satisfaction. Received wisdom suggests a gear of 63 inches is optimum but this, rather like saddles and other contact points is a very personal matter that cannot simply be determined by overly simplistic formula calculation. Far from greatly reducing versatility, a carefully planned fixed MTB or cyclo cross build could prove the bike for all reasons and four seasons. Indeed, I predict we will see a moderate explosion in the off road fixed scene if rumours are true surrounding the commercial ressurection of three and five speed fixed hubs.

Not convinced? Well, you'll have a simple bomb-proof training/working mount capable of eating pot-holes for breakfast and kerb stones for lunch. Those of a more competitive nature are freed from the slavery of the indoor trainer to hone razor sharp handling skills and super smooth pedalling style-essential ingredients for breaking away from the bunch and stealing a march on your rivals. The availability of wide section studded/spiked snow tyres in both 26" and 700c sizes gives even less excuse to hide indoors.

I must confess a quiet, yet continual yearning for Surly’s slightly overbuilt but very worthy Karate Monkey frameset. "Skid Mark" brown might not meet with everyone's approval but shouldn't attract the wrong sort of attention either. Besides, you can easily change the livery once a few season’s fun have taken their toll. On-One’s "inbred" is another worthy choice from a very similar school of thought. However, there's no need to rush out and buy a dedicated frameset....

A virtual wander through the Gallery reveals a devoted fellowship with finely honed frame building/engineering skills coupled with an abundance of imagination and creativity. Just remember, simply buying a retired framebuilder's tools doesn’t automatically maketh a master/mistress of the torch...Seek guidance, have patience and after much practice you might build something rideable. Or better still, enroll on a (typically) week long frame building course under expert tutelage and come away with a made to measure frame and a sense of achievement money can't buy.

Some years ago, I spotted a very petite cyclo cross frameset at a race meeting. This later transpired to have been built from scrap frames MIG welded together and finished in leftover acrylic paint. MIG is only really suitable for joining "gas-pipe" tubing but it’s a very accessible welding process. Crudely, if you can draw a straight line using a marker pen, you can MIG weld- the real skill lies in a fastidious jig alignment and accuracy of tube mitring.

MTBs have been the dominant breed over the past couple decades. Subsequently, mid-range rigid cro-moly framesets are plentiful, providing versatile and inexpensive platforms for other duties. However, the renewed interest in cyclo cross has meant greater availability of inexpensive starter frames and components for those preferring 700c hoops.

Whichever route you choose, resist the urge to take a grinder to the plethora of cable guides, braze-ons etc. For the last word in versatility, have your friendly local frame builder braze in a set of Surly ends- the rear facing model complete with derailleur hanger. Whilst undoubtedly offensive to the purists, these represent the best of both worlds. A stiffer rear triangle, easy chain tensioning and should riding fixed loose it’s flavour; gears without tears are just some of the advantages.



Dependent upon the value of the frame and/or depth of pockets, you could either repaint the areas scorched by the torch , or go the whole hog and treat it to a fresh powder coat/stoved enamel finish.

Not your bag? There’s nothing stopping you going fixed using frames with vertical/horizontal ends. It just requires more patience to achieve correct chain line and/or creating a suitable magic gear.

Single speed's popularity ensures a ready supply of affordable, weatherproof hubs, cranks and other dedicated parts, eliminating the need to modify track/road components. Some colour schemes look good enough to eat but I'll remain steadfastly silver because it's most proficient at disguising the ravages of rough-stuff.

Karate Monkeys make lovely pets but in the present economic climate, I'll tighten my toe-straps and settle for frame end surgery on my mtb derived crosser next re-spray.

See you on the singletrack....

Worn Cleats, Humble Pie & Food For Thought

Thundering along memory lane to my mid teens, I arrived at a friend's house to show off my newly built Raleigh conversion. His father, (a salesman by trade) well versed in turning on the charm for those he disliked answered the door. Spotting the fixed transmission he cheerfully quipped “Bloody dangerous, fixed- had one when I was your age, regularly threatened to come out from underneath me.”. He’d made other observations but that has always stuck with me. Forward twenty years and a correspondingly colossal mileage without such an achievement on my cycling CV, I was chasing the blues away aboard my beloved Ilpompino.....

Carving into corners and swooping into the bends, the long and positively deserted lanes had become my personal playground. Alone in my smug little bubble, I found myself sniggering at his misfortune…"What a load of old Botox, I’ve never had a fixed come from underneath me in all these years and all the miles…even with extreme provocation”.

Well, the gods of worn shoe cleats and erratic road surfacing must’ve taken dim views of this self congratulatory behaviour. A long descent, touching 30mph and without warning my right cleat disengages! A spate of panic ensued as I tried to regain control by holding off against the transmission, redistributing my weight and groping in vain for the front brake. Hurtling past a school for the well heeled (or should that be cleated), was probably not the best time to unleash a torrent of expletives!

Mortified mothers in SUVs, proud grandparents and an unimpressed head teacher all gazed in wide wonder at the Lycra clad reprobate hurtling before them. Concluding their lesson in humility, the gods handed me back control of my bike, bodily functions and command of the English Language just in time to avoid a traffic bollard.

Hauling the brake lever fully home, I stopped short of further indignity long enough to re-engage my foot for the final and somewhat cautious two miles to my front door.

Suffice to say the cleats were replaced within five minutes of locking the bike away.

The obvious moral here is routine inspection of shoe cleats but it provides other food for thought. Sometimes the law is just and there to defend us. Here in the UK, bikes with fixed wheels are required to have a single, front brake-the transmission being recognised as a rear (we all know, holding off against the cranks slows with much greater control and road feedback-especially in poor weather).

I’m not turning against anyone who chooses to ride brakeless outside of a velodrome and I’m very aware that in the US, the law varies from state to state. As my encounter demonstrates, worn cleats/riding without respect for the unexpected can result in an accident just as readily as riding sans brakes. However, one fine day when you're filtering through the traffic, that mother about to give birth to twenty-one children could readily step accross your path and into the arms of a merciless lawyer.....

Next: Far From The Madding Crowd....

Romancing The Circuit

So, dispatchin’s cool again just as it was twenty years ago when the first wave of wannabes started riding the city streets on mountain bikes shod with slick tyres and messenger bags slung over their shoulders. Back in the day, it seemed to be a right of passage for post qualified journalists and a fair few arts students to serve on the London circuit. I recall a friendly acquaintance remarking there was nothing remotely glamorous about riding ten hours a day (often soaked to the skin), having coke cans and abuse hurled by youths in tuned Fords, the city grime that permeates every fibre of your clothing and (amongst the ladies) tender, bruised breasts where the radio has repeatedly made contact. Then there’s the unscrupulous firms, no sick or holiday pay, no unions (although things are improving thanks to organised messenger groups), the constant threat of bike theft and the very real risk of becoming a statistic.

Certain sections of the media continue to perpetuate the glamour myth, failing to make the distinction between this “outlaw” romanticism- being paid to ride your bike and the stark reality of riding your bike to earn a living. The lean days when you barely get a job or can’t work due to a tumble with the tarmac/ illness are seldom considered. In the words of my late father (who looked after motorcycle factory riders during the 1960s) “Doesn’t matter how good a rider you/think you are, you always come off”.



The flexibility suits those with other business/interests or folks with a healthy contempt for the nine-to-five. I can fully appreciate how this is so easily romanticised. Perhaps the numbers of civilian riders astride track bikes dressed in retro merino wool jerseys, ¾ knickers complete with messenger bags should be regarded as the sincerest form of flattery (although I regularly encounter hapless fashion victims wind milling around the capital on ridiculously tall gears). The circuit attracts people from all walks of life and it’s nothing like the movies.. I’ve never met a messenger without a story or two. My personal favourite being a courier reunited with his steed, the thief saying he was returning it as he couldn’t ride it(!)-fixers were far less prevalent twenty odd years ago.


Whilst the elite and the seasoned might carve gracefully through the urban sprawl like athletic salmon aboard Bianchi Pistas, Specialized Langsters and a wealth of more exotic mounts; others, dressed in baggy tracksuits and trainers are earning minimum wage on beater mountain bikes with expiring transmissions.

The glory days of £450 a week may be a distant memory, yet the recent postal dispute saw some earning almost double and there’s no shortages of folk seduced by the image and perceived lifestyle. Whether they flatter or frustrate, the wannabes look set to stay….

Next: Worn shoe cleats and the perils of ignoring one's elders