Happy daylight savings time!

I love daylight savings time a lot. It's shame that today was so dreary and overcast, because it'd still be nice and light outside. To celebrate, I went for a bike ride (big surprise, huh?).

I have come to own a 1985 or 1986 Diamondback (Diamond Back?) Apex. It's a pretty sweet ride, though lacking some of its original cool parts. Salem is a generous man with his bike frames, though he's very particular about which components are going to leave attached to said bikes. In other words, you aren't going to get the Deore deer head derailleurs for free. It did come with the sweet Suntour U-brake and period Shimano cantis. The shifting parts of the drivetrain are Deore, albeit newer than the bike: early 1990s (or maybe late 1980s) Deore thumb shifter and a early to mid 2000s Deore XT derailleur.


This bike is unique, in my opinion, for three reasons.

1) The spacing for the rear wheel is 126mm. I know that some early mountain bikes were spaced that way, like Bridgestones, but I find it weird. Presently, I have a 130mm wedged in there. It doesn't seem to be causing any problems

2) It's painted like a snake. Its former owner did this and he's a famous artist.

3) This is one isn't true anymore, but for a brief time all major component manufacturers were represented in the drivetrain: Shimano shifter, derailleur and cassette; Suntour cranks; Campagnolo chainring and a SRAM chain. The SRAM chain was worn out, so I bought a KMC chain. That's why this isn't true anymore.



So, I rode it around the reservoir much like it had done 25 years ago and it rides quite nice. The bike is not very fast, which I chalk up to it being kind of heavy and having a really, really relaxed head angle. However, the relaxed head angle and very long wheel base do a have a benefit: it descend really, really confidently. It's a little more stable than my 29er and 20x more stable than my rigid Stumpjumper. It almost feels like I'm riding my suspension bike.

The woods were not nearly as mucky as I thought they were going to be. I guess water deficits have some silver lining, though I did encounter one creek that was very difficult to cross.


I also forgot to mention that I ran into the mysterious man who runs Remove Sunglasses At Tunnel. Read more!

Bikes Outside: Schweet Home Chicago

This week's Bike Outside is no less than an American icon. The "Electro-forged" Chicago Schwinn is the bicycle equivalent of a slant six Dodge: Ubiquitous in its day, by no means the fastest or the lightest of its kind out there, but sturdy as hell. It's overbuilt and under-appreciated. When a post-apocalyptic mutant runs out of gasoline to power its 1970 Dart, it can pull an intact 1970 Schwinn from the nearest bomb crater and pedal onward.


I found this bike chained to a railing on Farmington Ave in Asylum Hill. Judging from the extended paintless area on the frame of this bike, it has been chained thusly thousands of times. This and the rest of the paint layer surface strata make this beater a patina powerhouse. It wears the scars of a lifetime of hard usage without fanfare or apology. If terms like unassuming and badass can coexist in a single place, they can do so on this bike. It's also old-school all the way. I like the cloverleaf chainwheel, the alloy quill stem and the stem shifter. The upright handlebars and skinny chain guard make it look more like an old 3-Speed at a distance until you spot the derailleur out back. The "mattress" style saddle has seen better days, making this a short-trip bike for all but those with the hardiest posteriors. A front caliper has gone AWOL, leaving a lonely left brake lever behind and continuing the widespread Hartford tradition of one missing/malfunctioning brake.

This was another instance where a bike's owner came out as I was photographing it. The fender-equipped Schwinn has served as his foul-weather beater for the past few decades while his nicer Fuji comes out when the weather is nice. We had a good time talking bikes and such until I remembered that I had already been running late before I stopped to bike bond. I've forgotten his name (I'm terrible at remembering names) but I'll probably catch up with him at his store one of these days when I have more time. Nice guy.

The basic idea of this bike has been recreated in Schwinn's current retro lineup as the "Willy" with some welcome updates to the gearing (twist-grip 7-speed vs. stem shifted 5-speed) and brakes (which now stop the bike when applied). Schleppi's Jenny is its femme counterpart.

These Chicago-made bikes rode the final wave of the American bicycle industry before it crashed on the shores of the Malaise Era and retreated overseas. An affordable, decent domestic bike for everyday people became the stuff of tag sales and flea markets after that. Luckily, bikes like this will be around for decades to come. They will outlast us all. This Schwinn is just plain solid.

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Bikes Outside: 400 Club

This Monday's Bike Outside features an old school Trek that was found locked to one of the several improvisational bike racks surrounding La Paloma Sabanera on Capitol Ave. The corner of Capitol and Babcock has long been a cool bike-spotting place. I routinely see bikes dating from the 1960's to today locked up outside while their owners nosh and caffeinate.

The lugged frame of this Trek 400 has an early 80's look and feel to me. A very quick glance at the Vintage Trek website seemed to point to 1984. The Sugino crankset and quill stem could certainly pass for that era, but the remainder of the components have been modernized. That said, the modern 9-speed cassette and derailleur, v-rims and such don't look particularly out of place on this bike. The 400 was by no means Trek's flagship model, so people can feel free to modify them without fear of compromising a potential museum piece. They have great potential for the building of solid daily riders with bonus vintage flair.

I'm partial to Treks. One of my cousins in Brooklyn was an early adopter, riding a Trek in the late 70's and early 80's before replacing it with a gorgeous red Eddy Merckx. A far more prosaic Trek was my Father's last bike, so the marque has sentimental value for me. This bike sports a similar early logo and head badge style to my cousin's long-ago mount, so the nostalgia is strong with this one. The paint and graphics are in nice, original shape. It really is a good looking bike.


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The Holy Grail

This past Sunday morning, with an inadequate night's sleep behind me and a pair of cargo bikes crowding the bed of a borrowed pickup (thanks Prez!) I made my way toward Dudley Mass at the crack of still-freaking-dark-out. As tired as I was, it was definitely a morning well spent. I sold very little, bought a bit more, and generally had a good time checking out cool old bikes and chatting it up with other bike people. I saw several people I have met over the years in the New England vintage scooter and motorcycle scene. Two wheels good!

Things had gotten pretty slow by noon and we started to pack up. With everything loaded, I wandered back in for a farewell lap through the Do-Right flea market to have one more look at the items for sale and their modern indoor plumbing. There were still a few bike vendors lingering into the early afternoon as well. Toward the back of the huge building, there was a room full of classic bikes that I think had been up for auction. Most of them were swoopy American balloon tire bikes, with a few British 3-speeds and a few earlier antique bikes thrown in for good measure. The old bikes lined up on the freshly refinished battered 19th century factory floor made for an especially pleasing scene. I could dwell happily in a space like that.

I spotted the remains of a Pope-built Columbia headtube badge and zoomed in for some macro shots of a Hartford hometown favorite. It wasn't until I backed away that I realized that this rusty old bike was none other than my grail, the pinnacle of my dream bike wantyness, an unrestored genuine Hartford-built Columbia Chainless! I hunkered down and leaned in for an extra-close look, taking care not to further corrode it with drool enzymes. It was in rough shape to be sure: rusted all over, tires rotting off of deformed wooden rims, and a pair of latter-day cottered cranks and pedals looking decidedly out of place. The wood and metal framework was all that remained of the seat, but it was there, which was good. The drive side was facing the wall, so I didn't get as detailed a look at the bevel-geared drive shaft as I would have liked, but it was still pretty damned cool. Nobody was around the bike, and the roll of raffle tickets on the handlebar offered no clues about its story. I pulled myself away from the stately machine and made my way home. I like to think I will have a chance to see it again someday.


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Frog Hollow to Frog City

I recently found myself in Willimantic for the first time, and had an opportunity to check out a couple of places that countless people have recommended to me over the years. Both the Food Co-op and Scott's Cyclery were well worth the trip, and gave me a bit of envy, as I would love to have such establishments in my immediate area. This can be a great time of year to visit a bike shop, as the owners can have a bit more time to spare. In the case of my visit to Scott's Cyclery, that meant plenty of time to find a few parts for an unusual bike frame I have and more time to talk about old bicycles. Scott has a ton of vintage bikes, but I was especially keen on two that were made by The Pope Manufacturing Company in my own neighborhood.

The oldest is a Columbia high wheeler from the 1880's. The solid rubber tires are new reproductions, but I think this boneshaker is otherwise original. I have never ridden a high-wheeler, but would jump at the opportunity to do so. I might be rationalizing here, but it seems that all the inherent dangers of riding such a contraption in modern traffic should be offset by a marked increase in visibility. All the same, maybe the first try should be on a bike path...


This more modern Columbia safety bicycle dates from 1893. It combines such advances as pneumatic tires with throwbacks like the vestigial bike-mounting step from the older-school days. It's mostly rusty, but the nickel-plated rear sprocket looks good as new, thanks to a century of greasy protective coverage. I love the oil lantern. While modern LEDs are the brighter and more efficient way to light your way at night, there is an unmistakable allure to having part of your bike actually on fire while you are riding it. Come to think of it, I'm going to see if I can fit a propane cylinder in a water bottle cage and rig up a pair of gas lanterns (front and rear, for safety) as soon as I finish this post- what could possibly go wrong? That massive sprung seat frame looks like it would require a square yard of animal hide to restore.

One of my dreams is to someday own, or at least ride a locally-manufactured Columbia or Hartford brand bike, especially a shaft-driven Columbia Chainless. Scott had a vintage chainless bike in the house, but it wasn't a Columbia (it might have been a Pierce, but don't quote me on that). It's more than very likely that bicycle-building factory workers once lived in my circa-1900 home, so some sort of historical society should help me obtain one. I'll agree to wear period clothing while riding it if that helps my case.


This early 1950's vintage Phillips was not made in Hartford, but I wish it lived here with me. I love me some British roadster, especially in green. Gorgeous!

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