Winterizing a Snow Bike

Fall is the best time of year to give your bike a overhaul for a couple reasons.

If you are putting a bike away for winter storage you'll want to get the water out of the internals where it can cause rust throughout the winter. The other benefit is that your bike will be ready to ride when spring arrives. Plus you'll save money because most shops run an overhaul sale in the winter.

If you are riding your bike all winter then you'll want to get a low temp grease in the bearings and free-hub body, maybe install studded tires, and rust proof steel frames.
This poor Pugsley has been ridden and raced hard yet received very little maintenance. We gave it a Winter Overhaul about a month ago to make sure that it was ready for the first snow fall of the year.
















Rust was starting to eat away at the fork...
















...and frame...
















...so I applied JP Weigle Frame Saver
















Next the drive-train got cleaned up in our
environmentally friendly parts washer.


I applied anti-seize to the bottom bracket shell threads
to prevent galvanic corrosion.
















Then I faced the head-tube.























Now it looks like this.
















The brake posts got plenty of grease.
















The derailleur pulleys were removed, cleaned and
lubricated.
















This Pugsley has rear hubs in both wheels. Both got
repacked with Morningstar 'Lectric Lube
















And of course the free-hub body was purged and filled
with 'Lectric Lube.
















'Lectric Lube grease remains the same consistency down
to -50f so you don't get any drag when riding in really
cold temps.
















Freewheel Bike's Winter Overhaul Special includes everything from our regular overhaul then the price is reduced by $80 plus it includes free pick up and delivery.

Counterpoint: Rock Shox XX Review

Earlier this summer we had the privilege of sitting in on some Rock Shox suspension training with a few fellows from Marzocchi. No--Rock Shox. Yes, that's it. Anyways, I had endured a few bad experiences with Rock Shox suspension back in the day (a leaky, fragile first-generation SID) and had pretty much written them off as a bunch of snake-oil selling Hessians (no offense to any Hessians in the wide scope of Golden Wrench readership). My junk-o-meter was set to stun when they began to tear apart the demo fork for our learning. I scrutinized every piece they passed around, expecting a bunch of spindly ribbons of tortured aluminum, doohickeys, religious totems, ventricles, and Clif bar wrappers to come out of the damping side. Nope, just a couple of assemblies! I was surprised by the simplicity of their damping system, and especially by their platform: it's a plastic spring that controls a blowoff port. Everything in these forks is modular: they are a breeze to work on.

What really intrigued me was the X-Loc feature found on the XX forks. We had done a piece for the MORC newsletter on how to bleed and set up the X-Loc, and it's a pretty thoughtful design. No cable drag or huge spring tension to overcome cable drag: just liquid-smooth hydraulic goodness. On, off, adjustable floodgate. The simple-minded can call it witchcraft: I think Bernoulli and Newton would be proud of its simplicity and effectiveness. Furthermore, I can't wait for a rear-shock counterpart, or one hydraulic switch that will control both front and rear! Or an electronic damping system that responds to my feelings as long as I don't ride too close to a microwave tower or drain the battery! Oh wait--K2 already did that back in the day.

Anyways, I sent off for a Rock Shox SID XX with an aluminum crown. About 8 hours later, it arrived from QBP, complete with the fork itself, an enormous cardboard box decorated in a fetching shade of blue, several layers of plastic bags, a shock pump, ONLY ONE BLASTED STICKER AND NOT THE SWEET DECAL KIT (!??!?!!??!?!?!!!??!?!), and a manual. Also included was a travel reducer to shorten the stroke down to 80mm, which will probably never see the light of day after it was deposited in my junk drawer. Initial impressions were positive: it's a modern and attractive white color with gray graphics; it's smooth (better be, right?); it's not horribly heavy; and that lockout is the cat's pajamas.

After a few weeks spent scaring up the funds to actually pay the thing off, I still was able to ride the fork for at least four weeks before some other guy at the shop had heard anything besides "Stop calling us, man, or it will take longer, man" from a certain company out west. That company will remain anonymous, but the clever among us will recognize that it is named after a scavenging mammal that gains its sustenance by raiding the nests of game fowl.

I slapped the fork onto my trusty old Gunnar Ruffian (having crashed and bent the previous fork at the Murphy TT), filled it full of air, mounted the lockout on the left side, and tried it out. The front wheel was doing things I was not accustomed to, such as tracking straight through rough terrain and holding a line in rough corners. I would lock the fork out on the road and when climbing out of the saddle, but then I would forget to unlock it. That's OK, because in addition to about 3/4" of super-progressive travel (even with it locked out) you can adjust the "gate" feature and make the blowoff ports open sooner. After a couple of forgetful episodes, I dialed down the gate so the fork would open up sooner, sparing my pore ole wrists. It's a platform, yay!

After some test riding (which included the Border Battle race, as good a test ride as one will find), I moved the lockout to the right side, under the bar. Single speed, no shifters, plenty of room. Since the lockout button was in the place that a RapidFire shifter would be, I referred to it as my "climbing gear." Soon I was hitting the lockout every time I got out of the saddle at all, and my "climbing gear" became a "road gear," a "sprint gear," a "trackstand gear," and a "flat, smooth trail gear." That lockout gets a workout and hasn't leaked, slipped, cried, gurgled, cheated on its taxes, pestered my dog, or written any bad poetry since I bought it. Not yet anyways.

Nowadays, the Gunnar is doing cyclocross duty and the Rock Shox XX is on my old Trek Fuel, AKA "Mister Sloppy." Changed that bike around, I tell you what! It came with a Pure DeLite SID that was flexy and noisy and gross, but with the XX old Mister Sloppy rides like a KX 125. It took a few rides to get used to the handling, going from 80mm to 100mm of travel, but after flipping the stem and messing with spacers, Mister Sloppy descends with some confidence.

Objection: Yes, and OK, you mister guy, but wouldn't it be better to ride a platform fork that locks out for you?

Answer: Sometimes I'd rather not have to wonder if my fork is locked out, such as when I'm going to bunnyhop over a log. Or, if I'm in competition and sprinting on rough ground, I want the front to feel rigid, even at the potential expense of some shock absorption. As for the lockout learning curve, I hit it without even really thinking about it: If the trail is smooth, I lock it out. If not, I unlock it. So convenient! Sometimes I even hit the lockout in the air for a cushy landing when I jump over things!

Objection: Yes, and OK, mister guy, but haven't you had to mess with it a bunch since you bought it?

Answer: Not really. As far as setup is concerned, the factory recommendations have been fine for me. I initially ran the air pressure on the high side of things, but now that I use the lockout so much, I'm running it softer. I've had to add air to the positive spring one time since August. I've never touched the damping dial: it's about 1/4 of the way from full rabbit.

If you're in the market for a new fork, definitely give the Rock Shox line a look. They're not winning the OEM game these days (russet-colored scavengers), but they still produce some fine performers for Minnesota-type riding.

What do you mean my chain "stretched"?

Bicycle mechanics often refer to a worn out chain as "stretched". It sounds a little weird to think of a metal chain stretching so I don't blame you if you're a bit skeptical of this statement. When we say a chain is stretched out we aren't saying that it is like a rubber band that has been stretched out too long and won't return to it's original shape. It would be more accurate to say the chain is elongated. What is happening is that the distance from pin to pin has increased.

Here is a picture of a chain wear indicator on a new chain. Note that it reads 0.04mm. That would be a happy chain.

Here is a stretched or elongated chain. The tool reads 1.73mm. That would be a sad chain.

As you can see from this picture there are two grooves in the chain pin that correspond to the inner plates of this chain.

That wear occurs only on the side of the pin that experiences load.

The grooves can get quite deep.

A worn chain will wear out the teeth on the cassette and chain-ring(s).

Worn teeth can lead to things like chain suck, slipping under load and poor shifting. A worn chain is also more prone to break. If you replace your chain before it is worn out you can almost always avoid these problems and actually save money.


Be the first to correctly answer the following trivia question and win the Park Tool CC-3. E-mail answers to peteh@freewheelbike.com.
If using a ruler to measure chain wear, how much can a chain stretch (in inches) before it is considered worn out?

Edit: We have a winner. The answer is 1/16". Thanks for playing.
Here are a few links if learn more about measuring chain wear with a ruler;
http://bicycletutor.com/chain-wear/
http://pardo.net/bike/pic/fail-004/000.html
http://www.epicidiot.com/sports/chain_length_calculator.htm#stretch
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bicycle_chain

The Performance Trap and How I Escaped

The allure of more speed... No--let's say it like it needs to be said: The allure of more speeeeed.... This is how I justify many of my bicycle related purchases. The thought process looks something like this:

Self: "I have just received a paycheck from my employer. Time for an upgrade."
Bike: "You know, you'd be faster if you just rode more and ate less."
Self: "Hush your noise, you!"

So I look at my bike, the Gunnar Ruffian CX Hybrid (Don't tell Richard Schwinn I did this). It looks like this:


The trained eye of the Golden Wrench readership will quickly spot the glaring defect in this otherwise harmonious machine. No, I intentionally put 700c wheels on a 26" bike, I'm talking about the other defect.

CORRECT! DINGDINGDING!!! THE GRIPS!!!

Those particular grips had hit just about every tree on the Theo Wirth loop. Plus, they're ESI silicone, so they do wear out eventually (long after they stop smelling like Silly Putty). They were ripped, shriveled, stretched out, perma-stained, and frankly, a bit smelly. So it was time for a change.

I started by installing a narrower handlebar and a stiffer stem, which ended up taking about 70 grams off the front of the bike. Rather than bring the tired ESI grips out of the basement graveyard, I thought I'd go pro and wrap my bars with road tape.

Wrapping Flat Bars with Road Tape: Pros and Cons

PROS:
1. Yeah! Awesomeness! I have seen other people do this, and they happened to be awesome!
2. Light! I will be high performance super-guy and probably beat people only because of my road tape grips!
3. Colorful! Children will learn my name and cheer for me at CX races!
4. Cheap! Leftovers!
5. Light! I will only with difficulty keep the front wheel on the ground!
6. See #2, #5 because they are the primary reasons, and really all I was concerned about!

CONS:
1. Sends shooting pains up from hands to shoulders in rough terrain (which is everywhere, I soon discovered)! Yay, now I can easily detect rough terrain!
2. Tears easily! Yeah! I get to do maintenance on my GRIPS!
3. Colorful until dirty! The children actually began to cry because they thought I was a bum on a bum bike, but their parents gave me some money, so it wasn't all bad!
4. #1 is an awfully powerful consideration! My hands really hurted! I could not shop for groceries with a cart without fighting back tears!
5. Will not stay put, even with extreme measures, such as double-stick tape, electrical tape, arc welding, staples, threats, ocelots, mermaids, brown sugar, two eggs, a teaspoon of vanilla, a cup of whole-wheat flour, and a ripe banana. Bake for twelve minutes at 450 degrees, or until a nice crust appears.

In other words, it was the worst mistake of my adult life. Worse than paying full retail for books that are public domain on Google Books now.

Oh hands, I was wrong: will you forgive me?

Well, this relationship was going nowhere in a hurry. It was time to be done with it, but for some reason whenever I visit the grip rack at work in my own self-interest, the token pair of ESI grips that we stock (black of course) is always sold out. So then I have to make a decision: order some new ones in a ridiculous color that matches nothing, such as Kermit the Frog Green, or continue to damage my hands until they are non-functioning pork chops at the ends of my limbs. The first will make me wait a week, the second would render my hands useless because I don't like pork.

*PFFFFFFFFFFSSSHHHHH!* *PFFFSSSSHHWEEEEEEEFFFFFFERP!* *PFFSSHHH!* *eep* *PFFFFSHHFFFSSSHSSFFFFFSSSHHHFFFFSSSSHHHOOONNKKKK* *FERP!*

The above sounds were coming from around the corner, where Jason was installing a brand new set of Oury grips on his bike. His old Ourys, after two seasons, looked like new except for rips in the ends. Apparently, some other employees at Freewheel would put 1/4" bearings inside his handlebars through the little rips, and Jason's ride home to St. Paul would sound like *tinkitytinkitytinkitytinkity*. Jason's a rather manly dude, and would not have his bike go *tinkitytinkitytinkitytinkity* if he could help it, so he ordered up some crystal clear Oury grips to deck out his hypo-commuter. There are currently no rips in the ends of these grips for his evil coworkers to put bearings into (so we will have to take out his seatpost and put them in his top tube, I guess).

His old Ourys laid on the bench all sad-like saying "It's not our fault that your coworkers are evil! Look how well we've held up for all these years." They played the sympathy card really well, I must admit. I've always thought that Oury grips were ugly: they looked like something from a claymation motocross something or other. Plus, they seem to appeal to people with gorilla hands, where mine are more like rhinoceros hands (big with comparatively short fingers). I've also been told that they're for people with arthritis. But there they were, all sad and lonely. My hands still hurt from the ride in to work, all bunnyhopping curbs and catching air and stuff. I was ready for a change.

I asked Jason if I could borrow them and try them out on the Hybrid. He said "sure," or at least he loosed a well-crafted sentence at me that led me to believe that he meant "sure." Hopefully he meant "sure" because I don't want to go to jail. I installed them after work and rode home.

Now I have HAPPY HANDS! They just can't stop dancing! Anywhere I go, my hands start dancing like fools. I have to sit on them or put them in my pockets or bite them when I'm in public. Mostly because I'm of northern European descent and dancing just ain't our thing so much as pillaging and looting, but also because dancing hands often leads to institutionalization, and I have too much going on in life.

I was so excited to not have my hands turn into porkchops on the ride home that I checked out Oury's website! Wow, it sucks! But their grips make my hands dance! So I forgive them!

Goodbye Andy Paradowski from Hayes

Word has been spreading quietly amongst industry insiders about the death of Andy Paradowski from Hayes Brakes. You may remember him from a couple of our older posts;
Getting Smarter
Please Try Not To Get Oil On The Carpet
Andy was a dedicated bicycle mechanic and all around good guy. Our hearts go out to his family and friends.

Andy is the guy on the right in the Hayes work shirt.

Thank You

Thank You, such a simple thing to say yet it can leave a lasting impact on a person's outlook. I have been noticing something around the shop that has driven home just how important is to give and receive thank yous. The following photos are pictures of some of the thank yous that we have received over the years. They have obviously made an impact on us because we not only keep them (sometimes for years) but we often display them at our work areas.

These are thank you cards that Patrick keeps above his workbench at Check-In.

This is a letter that I kept in my tool box.

I noticed this letter in Stephen's office. It's from a customer that bought a new bike and found that the fit needed to be tweaked to more closely match her old bike.

This has been in Kevin's office since I started working here about two years ago.

This is my favorite. There is a wall in the back of the store with where a bunch of Scout Troops wrote their thank yous to Marcy. I assume that she was teaching bicycle repair classes so that they could get their merit badges. Some are dated as far back as 1991.

This is a post card that Tyson keeps above his bench. Apparently Chairman Bob approves.

Most letters come via e-mail these days. I keep a folder of them.

This post is not meant to brag about how great we are because the truth is, we do get some complaint letters too. While we don't like getting complaints we do appreciate when people make the effort to give us constructive criticism and a chance to redeem ourselves if needed.

So I'd like to say, Thank You, to all of our great customers. You are the reason that we love doing what we do.

Annual fork service. Annual fork service. Annual fork service.

Guess what my topic is today? That's right! Annual fork service. Annual suspension service, really. In all my work with suspension components, I occasionally see horrible, terrible, preventable things like this:

...and it breaks my heart. This fork is essentially ruined, simply from neglect. Just look at all that dirt on the wipers and foam rings! And see how that dirt put huge scratches in the stanchions!

The job of those gray wipers (which you can see on your fork where the upper legs, or stanchions, disappear into the lowers) is to keep the dirt out and the oil in. But they can only do so much, and over time dirt works its way past them into your fork internals. If left there long enough, it can cause damage to the stanchions themselves, as seen above. Even with new wipers and a lot of cleaning, this fork will leak oil and ingest dirt at an accelerated rate because the wipers can no longer form a tight seal against the stanchions. Had this fork received regular maintenance (annual service!) it would be full of fresh oil and back out on the trail already. Instead it's going in the scrap heap.

So please, people, bring me your forks (and shocks) so this doesn't happen to you. Different manufacturers recommend different service intervals, but let's go with something simple: have your suspension components serviced once a year. They will last a long time and work like they're supposed to. And it will be good.

Speaking of which, the other week I got the chance to work on a fork that you don't see a lot of around here. One of our customers brought in a Rock Shox Lyrik complete with Mission Control damping and 2-step (travel-adjust) air spring! With the twist of a knob this big boy goes from 160mm of travel (for descending) to 115mm (for climbing), and back. Think of it as Rock Shox's version of the Fox TALAS fork. Check it out:

...and that's just the air-spring side! On the damper side we have separate low- and high-speed compression adjustment and position-sensitive rebound damping. Fun stuff.

So remember: Annual service. Annual service. Annual service.

Technical feature!? What technical feature? You mean that slightly rough section back there?

Suspension has been taking up a lot of my time lately. Riding it, working on it, trying to save money to acquire it...

For the last few years I've been riding a couple versions of Rock Shox's venerable Duke fork (30mm stanchions, outdated damping, miniscule travel). Back in the early part of this century this was a ground-breaking fork, but we're a decade into the 00's, and I was in need of an upgrade.

So back in July I pushed all my money into a pile in the living room and figured it looked like enough for a new fork.

But it couldn't be just any fork. The problem (and fun!) with working on everybody else's suspension components is that I get to see all the insides. I see the fancy stuff, I see the entry-level stuff, I see the ideas that didn't really work, I see the brilliant engineering solutions for complex problems. And I see the stuff coming out of Watsonville, California. I'm talking about Fox Racing Shox here.

Lots of people have lots of good ideas about how to make suspension forks that get the job done, and there are plenty of forks out there that will perform great on the trail for way less money than a Fox. But if what you're looking for is the silkiest, plushest, most ground-hugging, most fine-tuneable suspension on the market, Fox is it.

But I'm not the only person who thinks this. So if you're in the market for a Fox fork, be prepared to wait. I did. I waited two agonizing months. That's most of our riding season around here! And yes, Fox's stuff is expensive. But back up a couple paragraphs and you'll find that I already explained that. And let me tell you from first hand experience that my new fork was worth every second of waiting and every penny I spent.

My weapon of choice was the 2011 F100 Terralogic fork with a 15QR thru-axle. I was taking a gamble here--Fox reintroduced their Terralogic damper just this year, after pulling it from production in 2007 because the earlier versions weren't performing to expectations. But I had a feeling, similar to the one I had back when I bought a Burton Alpine and a season pass to a local hill before I'd even once ridden a snowboard--I just knew it was going to be awesome. And I was right both times.

Let me stop for a minute and explain what Terralogic is: Most of you are familiar with the ability of suspension forks to "lock out," usually by spinning a knob on the top of the right fork leg (some of you even have handlebar-mounted remote levers for this). This prevents the fork from compressing while sprinting or climbing, minimizing pedal bob and allowing for maximum acceleration. When you want the fork to go back to soaking up bumps, you spin the knob back to the "off" position.

This is a great feature to have, but here in the Midwest there aren't many places with sustained climbs. Most of my favorite trails have constant minor elevation changes and are more like a roller coaster than a luge track. That's an awful lot of knob-fiddling to turn the lockout on and off every 30 yards. And this is why Fox's Terralogic system is a miracle.

Built into the damper cartridge is an inertia valve (a large-ish piece of brass) which in smooth conditions keeps the compression circuit closed, so the fork is locked out. When you hit a bump, the BrassMass opens (an object at rest...), allowing the fork to compress like a non-locked-out fork. When the trail smooths out, the mass settles back into its closed position, and you once again have a locked-out fork.

I had my doubts in the parking lot, when it felt like I had two different forks on the bike depending on whether I was riding in the flat or hitting the speed bumps. But once I got out to the trail, the fork disappeared (I mean this in a good way) and I was riding faster than I ever have before.

Braking bumps disappeared, obstacles got smaller, corners got stickier, skinnies got wider and getting out of the saddle to hammer on the pedals no longer caused the front end to bounce and wallow. The transition between open and locked-out (and vice versa) was seamless and instant. No lag, no initial harshness, no confusion. Solid. Amazing. Miraculous.

Part of the improvement is definitely due to the 15mm thru-axle, which reduces front-end flex and make steering more stable and precise. Part of it is the extra 20mm of travel over my old fork, giving me more cushion to soak up the rough stuff (I was worried the extra travel would make my steering slower because of the slacker headtube angle, but for some magical reason this isn't an issue). Part of it is Fox's FiT damper, which is supple beyond belief. Oh, and don't forget the new super-slippery Kashima coat on the fork stanchions, which improves small-bump compliance and supposedly also improves durability.

In short: Awesome. Amazing. Worth the wait. The only downside is that I have to try harder to push the fork to its limits, meaning I have to ride faster, meaning I have to pedal more, meaning I'm a little sore today. And tired. But happy.

...this is all a long way of saying that we're currently offering a special on all suspension labor through the end of October. So stop by and give your fork and/or shock the love it needs (annual service!) while it's cheap.

Revolutionary Technology!

Remember how revolutionary cut-out seats were back in the mid-90's? Remember the promises that the revolutionists promised, and the threats they threatened us with? Remember the documentary about the guy who did Ironman triathlons hunkered down in his tuck for four hours with his first-generation Flite pointing up like an ICBM? [Remember how delighted he was to tell the entire universe about his problems?]

"HIS PROBLEMS WILL BE YOUR PROBLEMS, RECREATIONAL CYCLIST MAN!!! UNLESS YOU BUY OUR CUT-OUT SEAT!!!"

And who can forget the commercials, with the elderly couples boisterously succeeding at golf and smiling comfortably in the sunset, while Mister Pleasant-Voice speed-reads a list of possible side effects? "Ask your doctor if the Body Symmetry 4000 SX cut-out saddle is right for you. Do not use the Body Symmetry 4000 SX if you are pregnant or think that you might be pregnant, especially if you're a man. Do not use the Body Symmetry 4000 SX in the presence of people with high levels of sensitivity to squeaking sounds or the smell of imitation leather. Limit use of the Body Symmetry 4000 SX to days in which your carbohydrate intake is equal to or greater than that of a vibrant Yorkshire stockman prior to his vigor dissipating (usually in his early fifties). Always wear your helmet when using Body Symmetry 4000 SX, especially on Thursdays and periods of intense sun spot activity, as these times correspond with the natural biorhythms of something something something. Look both ways if crossing open fields when using Body Symmetry 4000 SX, as Body Symmetry 4000 SX has been found during testing to attract juvenile bisons when the rails become dry and creaky. Body Symmetry 4000 SX has just informed me that due to a commonly-overlooked technicality not exclusive to the English tongue, the plural form of "bisons" is just "bison," and that the reader will have to figure out that I mean more than one bison from the context. Possible side effects most commonly associated with use of Body Symmetry 4000 SX include double vision, triple vision, impaired vision, augmented vision, sore hands and feet, torn breeches, loin chafing, whimpering, nostrils encrusted with dried mucus, heart failure, heart success, feebleness, wickedness, cod-liver oil, omelettes, siphoning of the Broger-valve membranes near the Fubular miscreant on your starboard gizzard, and poor taste in home decor. If you or a loved one notice most of these side-effects (all of which are rare as hen's teeth, I assure you) in yourself or an adjacent hominid, discontinue your use of Body Symmetry 4000 SX until you have insulted your doctor. Consulted. Consulted your doctor. Sorry."

Yeah, OK. Perhaps the science is sound, or perhaps it has more to do with the angle of the saddle and the distribution of the pressure than with the presence or absence of a cutout. I'm not taking sides.

I recently went to the Henry Ford museum in Detroit, and saw this (from a pennyfarthing):


... and this (from an early "safety bicycle"):
... and this, on a bicycle built "for a great gangling gentleman" (middle bike--sorry about the blurry photo):


One wonders how such an important medical breakthrough could go out of style for seventy years.

Communications from the Home Front

Most people who work at bike shops have some sort of life or another on the outside, believe it or not. Some of it includes mundane tasks such as eating, sleeping, protein synthesis, acrobatics, aeronautics, asparagus, Ashtabula (oops, that's a bike word), Arkansas, aardvark, arthropods, and anthropopathisms. Yes, we like to ride bikes, but there's more to life (not by much, mind you) than bicycles. We actually have families and friends and stuff!

Some of the most wonderful moments in life are those when these worlds overlap unexpectedly. I was working at check-in on a Saturday afternoon when a fellow wheeled up with, of all things, a bicycle with a flat rear tire. I had seen this very thing a few times before, and I was pretty sure I could help. I took the bike, threw it up in the stand, and looked for traces of Gremlins. Let's see here: Yup, the tire's flat. Nope, it's definitely flat. Wow, that tire is toast. The rest of the bike looks OK, maybe a bit dirty... no gaping wounds in the frame... chain is OK...

Me: "Sir, you have a flat tire."
Him: "You don't say. I walked over a mile to get here."
Me: "Oh, it gets worse! The inner tube will have to be replaced."
Him: "Drat! Drat! I figured as much. An evil star shone on the day of my birth, and my every turn brings me misery. It's like purgatory, my life, a continual weariness of toil and labor, where every scrap of news conceals a bad omen, and every angel of hope wears a mask of death. Why did I get out of bed this morning? WHY?!?! Oh, curse the day I bought this wretched claptrap, I knew I'd regret it!"
Me: "Furthermore, you need a new rear tire. This one is toast."
Him: "So it is, look at that. Worn right to the belts. Which one would you recommend?"
Me: "On our streets, sparkly as they are with shards of glass and metal, you need a robust tire for commuting. One with puncture protection, such as this Bont" BBBRRRRIIINNNGGG!!!!

I had been anticipating a call from my wife and had placed my cell phone in my shirt pocket. In a characteristic stroke of dazzling brilliance, I had forgotten to mute the blasted thing, and here it was pealing like the liberty bell.

Him: *blink... blink... blink...*
Me: BBBRRRRIIINNNGGG!!!! *fidget* BBBRRRRIIINNNGGG!!!!
Him: *blink... blink... blink...*
Me: "Excuse me for a moment, this is likely important." *turn away*
Me: "Hello?"
Voice: "Chris, do you think Phoebe would eat Russell?"

A few details would help the reader here. Phoebe is our kindly, eleven year old English Cocker Spaniel whose chief passions include peanut butter and plunging into swamps. Russell is our adult male English Budgerigar who flies around the house whenever we have company. We're not sure if it's because they're both Limeys, but they get along as well as we could hope for two beasts of such varied biology. Phoebe is a bird dog, but she does not really consider Russell to be a bird: he's a "friend" who happens to be small and blue. For that matter, she does not consider herself to be a "dog" either, but simply looks at her four-footed stature as an advantage when playing tag in the yard. Russell is a brave little parakeet for his part, and chirps merrily whenever he sees another living thing moving through the house. His greatest concern around Phoebe is being trampled when he is out of his cage and walking around on the floor. In short, they've never been anything but cordial toward one another, and we have reason to suspect that they're good friends after their fashion. In fact, when the feral offspring of some of our friends attempt to capture Russell, Phoebe will often threaten the children with woofs and stand in front of the diminutive parakeet to protect him.

Me: *blink... blink... blink...* "...I don't think so..."
Voice: "Well, I found a big pile of blue feathers in the kitchen, and I can't find Russell anywhere."

I was recalling these facts about our pets while my wife was asking me if Phoebe would eat Russell. Yes, if pigs flew, or if Russell had inadvertently coated himself with peanut butter, or perhaps if they had argued strenuously about whether Margaret Thatcher's tenure as Prime Minister was England's last hurrah. I simply could not wrap my brain around a scenario where Phoebe would eat Russell. So there I was, dumbfounded, standing in front of a customer with a 700X28 Bontrager Hard Case tire in my left hand, a priceless expression carved on my face, and a vision of pandemonium erupting in my once-peaceful home flashing through my mind.

[Apparently, Russell had found a nice pile of sweaters in the top of a closet and bedded down behind them for a nap. My wife had closed the closet door, and he either could not hear her calling, or his chirps in response were muffled by the sweaters. Also, he had molted recently, so there was a pile of feathers near his cage. So her fears were not unfounded as she applied Occam's Razor to the apparent details of the case.]

Incidentally, my dad was a bike mechanic while I was growing up, and he most assuredly had to deal with some crazy phone calls from the home front. I know because I placed a few of them myself: for example, I called him once to tell him that our cat was stuck on the garage roof, and to seek his wisdom regarding how to safely get the reluctant and agitated cat down from that garage roof with minimal damage to either cat or self (conveniently left out: how the cat got onto the garage roof). I wonder if he was standing there in front of a customer with a tire in his hand, wondering why a cat would be on the garage roof...

Wednesday Group Rides!

It has been a hoot over the last few weeks to load up the Mobile Repair Unit with bikes and mechanics and head down to Murphy for some Wednesday evening hot laps. After some hot lapping, wiping out, and heckling one another, we tuck tail and slink back to the parking lot for food and beverages. We make friends; fix a few bikes; crash in the parking lot trying to do tricks' eat grilled vegetables and meat; and sing songs of the Hinterland in four-part harmony, all five of us.

It's really a great way to unwind in the middle of the week, and it gets us out doing that thing that we love to do: grill. Oops! I meant ride.

Here are some pictures of fun like you've never experienced ever (but you're invited).

The Horses Corralled


Bob the Builder's brand-spanking new EX8 feeling the wrath of a high-speed corner incident.


Jeff's cleat ripped out of his shoe, so it was kind of nice to, you know, have a reasonably well-stocked bike shop along.


Bob thought he could take the bailout line without anyone seeing it. That's one good way to end up on the Internet.


Thad was trying to stay out of the sun so he wouldn't get a farmer tan.


Slopping the trough, courtesy of Chef Nick.


The End! Hope to see you at the Murphy Time Trials!

How many drops did would Bob have done if he did not take the bail out line? The first three people to send the correct answer to peteh@freewheelbike.com will win a Tour De France cycling cap.

Oh and by the way, our Wednesday night rides will continue after the time trials are over so feel free to come join us.

North Side Glide Ride

Public events add an interesting twist to bike mechanichood. Early in the summer, I had the opportunity to sit in cold rain for National Trails Day down at the Hopkins Depot. I think I fixed one bike all day while I stomped and shivered, but I got to commiserate with some worthy folks and eat a worthy scone from the coffee shop.

A few weeks later, Nick from Freewheel Mobile and I did #1 tuneups all day, in the rain, in promotion of National Bike to Work Week at the Christopher and Banks corporate HQ down in Plymouth. In the rain, all day, having forgotten rags and towels. Happily, there was a Home Depot nearby where we could purchase some of those blue disposable shop rags, but they didn't do so hot in the rain. At least it was a warmer rain that day.

You may be sensing a theme here.

Scotty B and I got the nod to do the safety checks at the North Side Glide Ride last Saturday, and I packed my rain coat even though the forecast said "sunshine, chirping birds, and fat cherubs playing harps." The weather held strong however. We met up in a vacant parking lot on the corner of Penn and Broadway, and after some van parking theatrics (It was 7:00 in the morning and I was yet enjoying many of the benefits of sleep, so cut me some slack, OK?!?!), finally got the van set up.


I was really impressed with the focus of the BikeWalk Ambassadors: they want to see North Minneapolis get some bike lanes and paths, bikers to populate those lanes and paths, and increased awareness of cycling as a cheap way to get around town. Usually, when I hear the words "increased awareness," it usually turns out to be some bogus thing where so-and-so has always wanted to ride his bike from Portland, OR to Portland, ME, and realized that the only way he could get people to give him money to do it is if he said he was doing it to "increase awareness" for the Zebra Mussel Adoption Fund, or the Association of Manly Men Who Still Wear Tube Socks, or Comb-Overs Anonymous. Whatever.

The BikeWalk Ambassadors had their act together however. They handed out tons of maps to people which show you how to get just about anywhere on a bike. The maps are works of art: they are well-marked, easy to read, and compact enough to fit in your pocket (and we have them at both West Bank and Midtown locations for $0.00). The Ambassadors also led a group ride around town just to demonstrate the possibilities of actually using a bicycle for your alpha transportation. And many of the folks in this particular neighborhood never leave this particular neighborhood simply because transportation is such a hassle. Lots of folks were hanging around Freewheel Mobile brainstorming about how to get low-cost, sturdy bikes into the hands of people who could benefit from them.

The BikeWalk Ambassadors (blue shirts) with the Major Taylor Bicycle Club

But Scotty B and I were there to fix stuff, not save the world through bicycles. I think I may have saved one lady's life: there was a brown recluse spider (how I know my spiders is a long and tedious episode--ask me in person if you have some time to kill) which had taken up residence in the spokes of her rear wheel. I discovered it when I was preparing to adjust her hub, shrieked like a frightened girl, and shooed it away with a screwdriver. He shook his little fist at me and told me that he had his rights, and that I would be hearing from his attorney. I stepped on him, ending the discussion. That was, thankfully, the tensest moment of the whole morning.

*willies* This is Mister Brown Recluse, pre-shooing.

On the right, you can see the carcasses of his hapless victims.

Such events are a great way to get out into the world and a welcome change in the line of duty, as long as the poisonous spiders are not too plentiful.

We Don't Mean to Nag, But...

Cue the creepy, minor-key music: you may be killing your suspension fork with your JRA behavior. Now, I speak (or type, more properly) as one who forsook suspension for several years in favor of a rigid carbon fork on my mountain bike. Incidentally, my wrists declared that decision to be unwise this spring with some spectacular flashes of pain, but those seem to have resolved since I restored my relationship with the old Manitou Skareb I had been using for spider habitat under my workbench.

What never resolves, however, is the subtle effects of riding dusty trails all summer.

Here in Minnesota, it's a lot like training camp for high desert racing. The trails are either closed or dusty, so we spend a lot of time drifting corners that are made of powdered adobe. Although the dust at, say, Theo Wirth is about the consistency of baby powder, each of those little particles of dust looks like a tiny porcupine under a microscope. And to those particles, the anodizing on your fork uppers looks like an axe handle. If you know anything about porcupines, you probably know that their favorite food (after corned beef and goulash) is axe handles, about which they frequently rhapsodize in grunts and squeaks. So then, while you're roosting through powdered terrain at Theo, those clouds of porcupine-shaped dust particles are attracted to your fork uppers by an innate sense of hunger that they can't control.

They begin by chewing away at your upper seals, where oil from the semi-bath reservoir found in all major fork systems gathers dust at an alarming rate, turning it into that brown goop we affectionately call "brown goop." Not only is the brown goop unsightly, it is abrasive: do not brush your teeth with it! After the dust particles breach the upper seals, they mosey or saunter down into the oil ring and the upper bushings where the real fun begins. It's like a microscopic axe handle buffet down there! When they've been at it for a few months, it looks like this:

Axe Handle

Porcupines

Where the Porcupines Hang Out

Oh No, More Porcupines

As you can see, there are lots of nooks and crannies where the porcupines can hide to chew on your fork uppers. Fork manufacturers recommend having the porcupines evicted every forty hours of riding, but if you get it done once a season, you'll save a lot of wear and tear on your equipment. Believe it or not, those upper seals, that foam ring, and even the damping oil itself are all things that wear out and get yicky. Additionally, there are o-rings inside that wear down over time, allowing oil and air to go where they ain't sposta. So it isn't just porcupines chewing axe handles, it's also saber-toothed tree mackerels committing larceny with respect to your o-rings. That's frowned upon by more than one publicly-funded advocacy group!

My Bike Don't Shift Smooth

Cables are often overlooked as a cause for life unhappiness and premature general sadness takeover because folks are bummed. The reason cables are so often overlooked is that they're just not flashy, blingy parts. Even the Dura-Ace cable sets are gray and relatively inexpensive. You can't impress bike people with your Tiagra steed decked out in Dura-Ace shift cables: they will see right through you.

Sure, Nokon makes flashy compressionless housing out of little bits of metal, but they creak and click, and you can't get a good, precise adjustment out of them. Plus, they quickly eat through fragile paint such as that found on high-end steel bikes, while creaking and shifting poorly. Oh, and they corrode in salty conditions.

Gore makes expensive cables and housing, but the average bike observer can't tell outside of a five-foot radius that you're sporting Gore cables.

Average Bike Observer: "Is that a bicycle you've got there? I recognize that."

Bike Owner: "It just happens to be, yes."

Average Bike Observer: "What kind of bicycle is it?"

Bike Owner: "It's a Guerciotti X-Crow, 2009, with Sram Rival and wheels I built myself."

Average Bike Observer: "Oh, a Gary Fisher, eh? I like Gary Fishers. They're neat."

Bike Owner: "No, I said it's a Guerciotti."

Average Bike Observer: "Apology accepted. Where did you get the Gary Fisher?"

Bike Owner: "It's not a Gary Fisher. It's Italian. My cousin has a job that takes him to Europe every few years, and he picked up the frame for me in France."

Average Bike Observer: "Why did you need to go to France to get a Gary Fisher?"

Bike Owner: "IT'S NOT A GARY FISHER. LOOK AT THE DOWN TUBE, YOU MORON."

Average Bike Observer: "It's a forgery! They didn't spell Gary Fisher's name right. You got ripped off. Nice Jagwire cables though, are those Jagwires? Jagwires are neat."

Bike Owner: "A pox on your tardy-gaited household! Those are Gore Ride-Ons, you simpering sovereign of chaff and scrapple!"

Average Bike Observer: "Uh, thanks! I'll see you later!"

So cables don't make the bike: fashion-wise they're like seat collars, spokes, bar plugs, and stem caps: more or less invisible as long as they don't clash too badly. Cables are an important part of a good maintenance plan however. New cables and housing just put the icing on the cake of a well-tuned bike, at least until they stretch a bit and throw the whole world into despair.

This particular piece of housing made a bike shift very poorly:

Check out how much it scrunched up when the inner wires stampeded effortlessly through that cheezy plastic ferrule:
Yep, that's cause for complaining.

Chris King Bottom Bracket Grease Purge

So I ordered the Chris King bottom bracket purging tool and thought that we had everything that we would need to provide this service. Turns out that we also needed a grease gun with a Zerk fitting, you can't just use the typical grease gun. I found this hand pump that comes with Phil Wood grease tubes.




Now that we had the tool we had to try it out so Sam brought in his bike. The first thing that you have to do is remove the black plastic ring.




Then you plug the tool into the bearing and start pumping new grease. The old grease and dirt gets purged out. It's a pretty slick system. We now have all the necessary tools to perform this job at our West Bank and Midtown locations as well as on the Mobile Repair Unit.

Saturdays!

Saturdays in the bike shop world are a unique day, not because of anything intrinsic to Saturdays in general, but because of a mood of insanity which suddenly infects the population at large. Nothing causes a seasoned wrench to go into survival mode like a nice, sunny Saturday morning. We awaken to the sweet trilling of male cardinals outside our windows, roll cheerfully out of bed, see the sunshine dancing through the gently rustling leaves on the oak tree in the front yard, realize what day it is, and promptly faint dead away. Nice, warm, sunny Saturdays? Bah! We'd rather have tornadoes and meteor showers or a plague of frogs and lice, because every anthropoid specimen and his cat within fifty miles will go for a bike ride on such a sublime Saturday morning, and roughly 80% of them will have a flat tire 20 minutes before lunchtime. And they will stand in line waiting for us to save the day.

We've saved lots of days: stop by and check out our thumb callouses!

It's funny how many different ways to say "I have a flat" people come up with.

Customer: "I was JRAing down the Greenway, whistling a merry tune, uhh... something from Bach's St. Matthew's Passion, an aria or some such, in the key of B major, and all of the sudden, molecules began stampeding out of some unauthorized aperture in my pneus velos. Can you burst forth in a glorious flurry of industry in my behalf? Can you resurrect my faithful companion and transportation? She has the soul of a thoroughbred, you know. Give me hope! Will my inexorable steed ride again to fame?"

Mechanic: "Indeed!"

Another thing that's funny about Saturdays is that people come in with old, French frames and long lists on yellow paper. Sometimes it's an old English frame, and sometimes the list is on pink paper, but this person is intent on making a fixed-gear something-or-other out of it, having just watched a bunch of videos of guys in fedoras and slip-ons doing slow wheelies and 30-foot skids in parking lots. He feels that every item on the list should cost an average of $3.72 and that his total bill should be around $100: after all, it doesn't have derailleurs, right, and it's old, right?

Fortunately, most of these frames have some sort of game-over damage to them, such as a 26.8 mm seatpost lodged in a 26.4 mm seat tube (which is splitting toward the bottom bracket), or "I rear-ended a parked bus while teasing my 'fro" wrinkles near the head tube. Others, though not broken physically, are broken in soul.


Oh yes, we can make this thing sparkle for $100.