Entitlement

People’s sense of entitlement, the automatic right to things by default never ceases to amaze me- none more so, than on the public highway. For many years now there’s been an overwhelming notion that driving a car is a right as distinct from privilege and moreover one that substitutes skill and empathy with elephantine ignorance. 

Just the other day I was piloting the Ka along a heavily trafficked section of provincial town and behind an elderly man on his bicycle. Unable to pass safely without endangering he, I or indeed oncoming traffic, this slightly serene procession was rudely interrupted by the high pitched, impatient sounding of the horn emanating from a middle aged woman sporting ridiculously oversized sunglasses, clearly too beautiful to be inconvenienced.

 It’s the sort of myopia oft lamented by journalist, campaigner and author of several best selling cycling books. I am of course referring to Richard Ballantine; a tremendously   influential figure who sadly lost his battle with cancer on May 29^th aged 72. Aside from an authoritative, captivating written style, he also supported me in my formative, teenage steps towards a career in journalism proper, so news of his death proved particularly sad.

He could polarise opinion, some regarding his stance toward rogue drivers as being a little over the top but while at an academic level there might’ve been some pop psychology at play now and then, his observations proved frighteningly accurate nonetheless.

I988 saw the arrival of Richard’s New Bicycle Book, in which he remarks (p240)  “ Often when cyclists signal a turn at night, their arm is lifted above the range of dipped car headlights and absorbed by the general ink of night. The signal is literally invisible” a sentiment clearly shared by Scute design who have sent me these mitts with inbuilt LEDs, switch gear and rechargeable li-on cell.

“Safety” tagging aside, their quality of construction and padding density seem remarkably good for long, steadily three seasons miles, ruling out the dreaded tingling, the extensive terry thumb wipe located for intuitive, split second taming of runny noses.

However, I’ve ideological reservations concerning this sort of technology since it implies, to me at least, that cyclists are somehow problems who need singling out. Mass rides aimed at capturing Jo and Joanna public always depict participants wearing hi-viz jackets. Again, I’m often seen wearing day-glow on overcast winter days but suggestion that we are somehow “asking for it” sans said attire seems to absolve bad, or woefully incompetent drivers from a duty of care in the same fashion “biological urges” are often cited by defence barristers in cases of rape/sexual assault.

Focusing upon my test bench, there’s been another wealth of interesting kit arriving for my attention. First up come these beautiful leather goodies courtesy of Spa cycles in Harrogate www.spacycles.co.uk. Constructed from ultra supple, high quality cowhide and half the price of established marques, their handlebar wrap comes in three classic colours-black brown or this luxurious honey.

Seamless construction won’t detract from the aesthetic, is stronger and moreover more comfortable than stitched varieties-especially in liner type gloves. Sources suggested rolls weren’t overly generous but in practice this only seems applicable when dressing oversized flared varieties. Coverage wasn’t an issue with these 25.4 midge, enabling double ups for additional cushioning in selected areas.

Talking of which, while very tenacious, the adhesive has proven very forgiving of perfectionist un/windings, so cable replacement/ introduction of cyclo cross style interrupter levers is unlikely to present any problems-especially if sealed in situ with quality electrical tape.  Early impressions suggest six weekly rub overs with a lint free cloth dipped in proofide/similar preserve will, all things being equal, retain its youthful lustre.

As for the clips, well these are fashioned from mirror polished stainless steel dressed in cowhide toe boxes protecting smart street shoes on short commutes and affording additional refinement on longer outings. Dual layer straps are refreshingly maulable, snaking effortlessly through Campagnolo record pattern cages, although the chromium plated buckles benefited from a quick shot of PTFE based spray sparing blushes when track standing isn’t practical.  Joshua remains inquisitive about racing, so we’ve been planning a new build and explored genres in more detail.

Seemingly mean and rueful of derailleur gears, we reckon the next built will be based around a small 4130 or 6061 mountain bike frameset with sliding dropouts, rigid fork and 135mm spacing, thus enabling relatively easy transition from single speed to variable gearing, whether hub or indeed derailleur as appropriate. Talking of which, harsh winter and lots of miles sees the Univega cruising another chain/cassette into retirement.

Still plenty of mid range options out there, so it’ll be a while before I contemplate adding another sprocket. Temptation travels back and forth between Titanium and similarly exotic fork options but I’m not overly fussed and moreover, there’s nothing wrong with the triple butted Cro-moly offering, especially since while pretty, said beast remains a working bike with emphasis upon reliability. 

Hairs' Breadth

Tyres have been at the forefront of my mind these past couple of weeks, what with the Schwalbe Kojak suffering some rather gruesome lesions courtesy of broken glass and my Ford Ka’s front pair suddenly splitting where it wasn’t obvious, leading to some very curious motorway handling as I cruised home from another day’s temping. Then we’ve these Schwalbe Marathon plus, which are the best road-orientated commu-winter/touring rubber I’ve used to date. Rolling resistance is refreshingly low too given their relative girth, deep tread and maximum 85psi operating pressure.

Seemingly invulnerable to the usual suspects, Kevlar is superseded by a soft, maulable sub section, which forces potential invaders out, as opposed to in with every rotation, which holds obvious appeal for dead of night riding, four seasons’ commuting and of course, laden touring. However, while our 35mm sections shared more than passing affinity with reality, shipping them aboard standard section ‘cross hoops saw rapid development of embarrassing hand muscles. 

I knew I was pushing my luck somewhat given the Ilpompino’s wishbone rear triangle is reckoned to manage 35mm tops-sans guards. No surprise then to discover their residual rubber whiskers tickling the undersides but given a hundred miles or so, these wore smooth, although clearance is strictly fag paper territory!

Said experience saw expedient purchase of this Cyclo workshop tyre fitter. Essentially a Godzilla lever, it works on the simple principle of leverage-slip the hoped end aboard the axle and rotate clockwise to persuade stubborn beads on/off in seconds. Hardly a novel concept perhaps but aluminium construction with high quality composites bodes well for longevity, even in commercial settings and better still, Cyclo are a UK brand.

Despite cataclysmic industrial decline these past four decades; the UK remains a hotbed of invention. Take these Santo Velo arm warmers.  Brainchild of midlands based Guy Stanton, one time moto-crosser turned sportive specialist who has devised protective models following a nasty spill that left him nervous about riding with extensive gravel rash. Unable to find a commercial product, he experimented with various materials before ultimately settling upon antibacterial EVPA- a rubberised elastomer more commonly employed in flat roofing contexts.

Initial impressions are very favourable, rugged fleece lined Lycra is extremely tactile and does an excellent job of retaining warmth, while the padded fillets offer excellent damping from road shock and general fatigue when hunkered low on the tri bars for longer periods. Fordist black with retro reflective detailing is quite nifty on nocturnal runs and compliments this Primal Wear Tattooed print jersey handsomely. Primal have been spicing up race jerseys/accessories since 1992 and this sports a medley of classic and contemporary designs ranging from Chinese tigers/90’s tribal stuff to Celtic crosses and themes from an era when ink was strictly the preserve of service folk and “undesirables”. 

Cut is extremely flattering, though while Primal make much of their  “Pro sensor Advanced Moisture Transfer”; essentially it’s just a plaited two layer polyester weave. Fibres against the skin absorb wetness, while the second uses existing body heat to spirit it away, thus banishing odour and chill. 

Unfortunately it doesn’t seem so effective at warding off little darlings who believe twelve-year-old bangers with big cans and thumping base are suitable substitutes for driver competency…Staying retro, this SKS triangle bag is the 80’s shoulder holder repackaged for a new audience. Made in cooperation with deuter, there’s a more tour friendly persona-hence less pronounced padding but Bontrager has also reintroduced the classic holster design with a distinctly pure, Mountain bike flavour.

Nonetheless, It swept me back to 1989 and geography classes spent ogling triple butted, rigid cross country Cro-moly fare with bio-pace cranksets, Tioga farmer John tyres, Girvin flex stems, Power grips and a host of similarly iconic stuff that proliferated the era’s cycling press. Not a good example for subsequent generations perhaps but infinitely more appealing than listening to a hirsute middle aged man prattling on about his gap year adventures across the Sahara desert aboard a melon truck with his old Etonian friend!

Correctly tensioned Velcro and slimline profiles eliminate annoying, thigh-brushing sway while the rip-stop nylon fabric seems pretty waterproof, aided in no small part by its sheltered location between seat and top tubes. Hmm, Ridgeback S, Muddy Fox Courier, Fisher Hoo-Koo-Ecoo, Saracen Kili Flyer anybody?

In the saddle, back on the game

Since my last entry, I’ve  secured another temp gig and therefore some fiscal liquidity, plugging the gaps between retainers and other, less consistent editorial payments. Managing sheltered housing schemes is familiar territory for me and not unpleasant work, although nowadays I associate it with the classic, slightly kitsch but brilliant piece of social commentary that is “Pearls Café’”.

For the uninitiated, it’s an old Specials’ track dating back to 1980, seemingly about a deranged old lady in a café, lamenting her life. However, the final verse the narrator suddenly has an epiphany; that his present girlfriend is cold, shallow and unfeeling  “ When I first met you, I really thought you were a wet dream come true. Now I know that you don’t care about somebody else’s nightmare”.

Having lured Joshua back to his BMX courtesy of this spatter deflecting SKS X blade clip on mudguard, there’s been a resurrection of competitive ambition on his part, expressing a desire to try racing first hand and wanting to accompany me on evening meanders. Given woefully inadequate standards of driver etiquette/skill seem supplanted by ever greater aggression, I’m of the opinion that cross country mountain biking is the most obvious and accessible outlet, with a view to cyclo cross when he’s twelve or thirteen and suitably prepared for long, steady road outings.

The nice folk at Zyro (www.zyro.co.uk)  dropped Minoura’s VC100 bracket over for me to play with. Beautifully made from CNC machined, silver anodised aluminium, it essentially converts the bike to a mobile tripod and camera spec allowing; ensures capture of impressive video footage-whether carving through deserted back roads or hustling through congested city centres. This is largely attributable to a combination of rigidity and broad, shock absorbing rubberised cork platform.

Obviously, it cannot compete with the 180degre peripheral capture of a helmet cam and 350g magnesium bodied super zoom compacts are pretty much its limit. Some of you will baulk at fifteen quid but while the backyard specials brewed using an old reflector bracket and similar oddments from the spares box are phenomenally satisfying to make, should it fail at tour typical speeds, cameras run the risk of becoming bin fodder.

Spring may well be in full bloom but manufacturers are keen to showcase their new season’s lighting and I require little persuasion to try them Silva, a marque more commonly associated with compasses, torches and similar generic outdoor apparel have been expanding their bike range.

In stark contrast to their road specific see with Pave’ comes this quirky looking “Commute”, which given cursory inspection looks indistinguishable from a sea of similarly competent contingency units, perfect for extended summer playtimes on the best bike or as dynamo companion/backup.

On paper 45 lumens lags behind the latest generation of bobby dodgers but the collimator lens delivers a very pure beam, devoid of halos with reassuring peripheral prowess. Tool-free silicone wrap over mounts are a welcome revolution, offering secure purchase, yet slipping off in seconds when locking in the street. This one is unremarkable other than to say it sweeps anaconda fashion around the full panacea of handlebar diameters without indigestion.   

Reassuringly stout composites bode well for longevity, shrugging at the inevitable everyday carelessness and Silva boast that it’s unaffected by temperatures as low as minus 20. A rubberised, centre mounted switch is easily operated in gloved hands and on the fly, although not the sort prone to accidentally engage when hibernating in jersey pockets/panniers. USB rechargeable li-on cells have almost become default but while in many respects a blessing, AAA are readily available pretty much anywhere and offer tour practical run times-I’ve managed eighteen odd (max) and an Uber frugal ninety eight in flashing using premium grades. All the more impressive since it gives change from £20. www.silva.se.

Another unexpected pleasure is this beautifully crafted saddlebag complete with Camera insert made by Emily O’ Brien. Hailing from Medford Massachusetts, she’s a mile munching, limerick loving music teacher and lifelong fettler who manufactures a handmade range of luggage/accessories capable of passing her own rigorous testing regime. Initial impressions are extremely favourable and its one of the most exciting bits of luggage I’ve had the privilege of testing to date. http://www.dillpicklegear.com/

Fatigue & Thrift

Fatigue hit me like the proverbial express train. I’d been working relentlessly testing kit and composing copy until 2am pretty much every morning for three successive weeks and the creative process had ground to a halt. Deadlines met and others under strict control, I headed 150 miles north to the Midlands for a photographic assignment. En route I couldn’t resist exploring some long derelict hotels- evidently raped by the metal locusts.

Meanwhile back in the south…Coinciding with another financial year’s swan song was the rush to collate and submit fiscal evidence forming the basis of this year’s tax return to HRMC (Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs). Fiscal administration doesn’t come naturally to me, yet completion is strangely satisfying tackled with a focused, proactive mindset.

On the subject of money, there’s a prevailing romanticism of thrift within television scheduling which focuses on cooking, dressmaking and related domesticity. On many levels I’ve nothing against this, assuming it reconnects people with traditional skills and creativity but there’s a more sinister use of nostalgia, drawing parallels with a rose tinted post war make do n’ mend era while the very frameworks established to promote equality, raise living standards and socio-economic mobility are steadily eroded under the guise of austerity.

Begrudgingly infectious, I rustled up this simple little handlebar camera mount for the princely sum of 80p. Hardly a novel concept but a constructive use of three minutes, an old reflector mount, tap washers, rubber shims, ¼ inch threaded bolt and two nuts it entertains most standard compact cameras and captures reasonable ride footage. Further refinements (rubber shims and wing nuts) will hopefully counteract irksome blurring vibration when hosting super zoom travel models. I’m undecided whether this is a consequence of a long lens and slightly whippy Nylon bracket, or indeed combination of both so comparison with Minoura’s beautifully machined aluminium version would be very interesting. Watch this space…

Spares bin scavenging also resurrected a beautiful stainless steel EAI superstar sprocket devoid of the bevelling designed to compensate for poor chainline on fixed gear conversions. Despite introducing its Halo predecessor with a healthy slathering of grease, removal demanded generous applications of penetrant and judicious persuasion from Pedro’s Vise whip.

While performing said surgery, I also happened upon some potentially nasty looking lesions in the Kojak’ casings, although these proved superficial, easily repaired using some premium grade super glue. Speaking of which, spring has finally sprung, snow tyres have been substituted for slicks and those Revolution trail Baggies are rapidly becoming the default option. Interesting framesets such as this mid to late 90’s 653 Ribble complete with internal cable guides, two tone livery and some curious superficial corrosion around the seat collar are awaiting makeover with Maldon Shot blasting & powder coating. Classic is one of those words, including Artisan (or indeed “Flavoursome”) banded around without discretion, although this particular offering is an excellent example of mid to late 90’s volume produced steel road frames.

Every now and then, I’m tempted to dress the Teenage Dream in a contemporary upper mid range groupset-Microshift Centos being an obvious choice but this would detract from its character and more importantly result in existing components needlessly languishing within the spares bin. Maybe when six-speed screw on freewheels finally go do-do a’la Maillard’s Helicomatic tool-free cassette system.

With a sporty touring shoes feature presently mid draft, its interesting that pedal choices for those wanting to retain the character of an eighties road bike are somewhat confined to clips n’ straps or Look/Keo patterns. However, Shimano’s single sided PDA520 have recently graced my doorstep. Marketed as touring pedal, they tip the scales at 278g and boast high lustre anodised aluminium bodies designed to age gracefully and moreover, distribute loads evenly.

Minimising fatigue/hotspots without blunting cornering prowess, racing horizons seem limited only by footwear choice and recessed cleats are infinitely more practical on an everyday basis. Some have called for electroplated axles, suggesting their existing finish is susceptible to the salt monster-I’ll reserve judgement for now, other than to suggest a quick preventative drop of winter weight, wet lube usually renders this problem academic.

Right, time I resumed my touring shoes group test and pitching book projects to potential publishers.

Graveyard Shift

Unseasonably low temperatures and weather fronts failed to relent through March and into April, so its been winter tights, booties, gloves, buffs and base layers as I’ve reclaimed the night. Sweeping through abandoned lanes between midnight and 2am unleashes a new dimension in riding pleasure and a genuinely better sense of perspective on life. Keyboard duties recommence at 9am until early evening whereupon a few TV/social breaks prove welcome.

Thus far, it’s done wonders for my mood and productivity. I’ve always found darkness the best time for evaluating bikes and equipment since it neutralises prejudice as we are guided by our senses. Riding blind, oblivious to whether a brifter is top flight or entry level gives a far more objective assessment of real world performance- I’ve often been surprised by how well budget components perform, even under some decidedly harsh contexts. Lower end derailleurs are a good choice for winter/daily drivers. First and foremost, they're relatively inexpensive to replace in the event of a bad spill and secondly, help disguise a bike's true worth from speculative thieves. 

Horsham based Atomic 22 sent me their revised tribe system, which are a set of sophisticated locking fasteners employing a unique key and can be “grown” to protect every component –including seat bolts, dropout hangers, bottle screws, quill stems and solid axles too. Precision made from aircraft grade titanium/stainless steel, they resist all the common forms of attack and go a long way to deterring the sort of crime where bikes are stolen, broken for spares and sold on through ebay/craigslist/gumtree etc. However, this doesn’t absolve the need for intelligent deployment of stout locks, location and street furniture.  

Took a drive down to Justin Burls the other week for a weapon’s inspection-for the benefit of global authorities, we’re talking titanium and beautifully brazed steel bicycle frames, not surface to air missiles or similar warheads. He’s been designing titanium frames with Torus bicycles and was keen to show me some new enamel badges and similarly exciting arrivals. www.burls.co.uk www.torusbicycles.co.uk/    

Testament to these exacting standards is “Old Faithful”; his first bespoke frameset dressed in the classic winter attire-old groupsets, Salmon Profil mudguards and smatterings of road salt. Those Rosso red two-pac painted Columbus tubes still ooze a quiet, timeless seductive refinement some fifteen years or so on. 

Cold doesn’t bother me per se, although I’m looking forward to some milder weather in order I can put these Revolution “tack” three quarter length baggies through their paces without donning extra long socks as a matter of absolute necessity. Statistically 3am is reckoned to be the most dangerous time to be navigating the road network, irrespective of vehicle (I’m usually cocooned in my duvet, cruising through the land of nod at this point in proceedings) but that aside, the standards of road craft demonstrated by some is terrifying, more so, the sense of bad driving being  a rite of passage and perfectly acceptable.

BBC three’s “Barely Legal Drivers” followed three sets of late teen/early twenty- something drivers who’s elephantine arrogance/ignorance goes a long way to explaining why insurance premiums are so high and accidents increasingly fatal. However, I was more gob smacked by  parental attitudes, which were largely accepting/condoning of excessive speeding, drunk/ hands-free driving (Oh bless, they’re clapping in time with the music). 

Seemingly desperate to reward their undisciplined offspring regardless, I strongly suspect said parents would blame a cyclist/motorcyclist or indeed another driver for being on the road in the event of a collision “S/he’s not at fault- you only have yourself to blame”.

Conscious of this drifting toward a tirade, my feeling is that we must all strive to continuously improve our road craft, irrespective whether we happen to be piloting a 15lb bicycle or fifteen tonne arctic.

The Sludge That Would Not Budge!

Several weeks’ almost daily service in suspiciously wintry conditions saw the Univega’s usually hygienic drivetrain assume that thick, sludgy ruinous paste. Pressure of deadlines has meant post ride wash and rises to prevent the salt monster moving in on the tubby tourer’s livery and brightwork but leaving an extremely tenacious synthetic wet chain prep  unsupervised had invited the wrong crowd.

Green oil’s range is amongst the best lubes and cleaning potions I’ve come across-easily on par with petrochemicals but without toxins or noxious synthetic odours. Budgeting for an intensive twenty-minute race around, I’d hoisted my beloved workhorse aloft the workstand and nipped to the garage for degreaser concentrate, bike wash, long handled wooden bicycle brush and bucket of nigh on boiling water. Emerging triumphant, things were progressing nicely as I dunked bristles in bucket, introduced some concentrate and breezed round the crankset akin to a blue bottle on speed, bringing the potent citrus potion to a very satisfying barbers’ lather.

Left to fizz, I drizzled some further concentrate from a smaller, pocket friendly container into the chain links and outer plates, contaminating the cassette by shifting in both directions along the block. Confident of good progress, I immersed said brush and tickled the chain rings. Arguably cleaner (and doubtless acceptable under normal, everyday circumstances) things still looked a little feted, so I repeated the initial treatment but with little improvement.  

Time management dictated recourse to petrochemicals, in this instance unleaded petrol applied using a T shirt from he clean rag pile (never leave those contaminated with solvents bunched together, or you’ll run the risk of them spontaneously combusting-especially during summer). Something of a mechanic’s standby and more aggressive than leaded stuff, so reluctantly eradicated on these shores (because lacing with the heavy, poisonous metal meant additional lubricant, thus car manufacturers could use cheaper materials for valve seats/related engine components) the presence of benzene and xylene still presents some very real health implications. 

To my dismay, Tosco’s finest 95octane proved impotent against this vile residue, calling for removal and intensive parts washer marinate. Having located 8mm Allen key and wound the crank bolt free, it was time to introduce my faithful Sugino extractor tool, only it had inexplicably seized solid (!) Firing some penetrative spray at point blank range, wrestling them apart using two 17mm ring spanners solved this and with it, expedient removal of cranks from tapers. 

   

In full evangelist mode, I decanted the now tepid water from the bucket and added fresh concentrate, mixed with white vinegar for additional bite.

Some five minutes later sleet began descending from the skies so I relocated to the kitchen. Flicking on the radio brought chancellor George Osborne’s  carefully crafted, rousing budget speech peppered with expertly delivered empty  clichéd rhetoric, designed to whip Essex man and Worcester woman into an orgasmic frenzy. “Aspiration nation” and “hard working families” being this year’s slogans; although there seems little coherent strategy save for remaining in power and hoping a boom in new build housing with state underwritten mortgages will bolster morale’ and prove the antidote to a seemingly flat-lining “zombie” economy.

Nonetheless, well channelled anger can be power and five minutes frenetic scrubbing later, my cranks emerged suitably pristine. I took the opportunity of removing some congealed gunge from the bottom bracket’s splined interface, wiped the taper and sped the arms home again… Lessons have been learned.

Snowvega...An Ode To Winter Tyres

Easterly winds, freezing temperatures and heavy snowfall couldn’t stop me coming out to play thanks to its rugged dependability further accentuated by those Schwalbe Winter tyres. Gone is the gravelly pitter-patter, replaced by gentle swooshing as deep chevron treads parted white powdery carpets and tungsten carbide studs bit into compacted underlay. Flicking down the cassette for extra momentum, my gloves’ outer membrane proved little match for the harsh Arctic blasts as it swooped with us, through the exposed and untreated lanes.

Small cars and agricultural, diesel engined commercial wagons slither past, almost in slow motion for fear of losing traction. Straight sections see our tempo increase, fourteen; sometimes fifteen miles per hour-tempered by my consciousness’ reminder that respect must always preside over complacency in these conditions.

Snow clinging to mudguards, chainstays, rear derailleur body and beneath the bottom bracket shell is rapidly turning to ice as we pass remote yet busy garages from a time before plug-in diagnostics ruled supreme. Though closed, trade is brisk judging by the forecourts hosting 07 plate SUVs, forty- year old MG BGT and middle aged Fords.

Checking over my shoulder, indicating left at the junction, there’s nothing coming- we’re homeward bound now, maintaining a steady course. My mind drifts but not far, to the test reports I’ve to finish, the opportunities that need chasing before contemplating the welfare of those closest to me.

Menacing cobalt skies, heavily pregnant with further snowfall have me questioning whether day glow  jacket /vest should’ve accompanied suitably garish gloves. Fifteen minutes later. I’m home; carrying said tubby tourer across the threshold and longing for warming, caffeine-laden refreshment but otherwise ready to begin another day at the keyboard.