Origami, Part 1: The Unveiling

At long last, it's new bike time.

Irregular readers may recall that way back in the winter of aught-nine, I had a minor pining episode over the Xootr Swift folding bike. Well, after much hem-and-haw, I have finally scratched that itch.

Before I actually start showing stuff and quasi-reviewing the bike, I should give the obligatory blogger disclaimer: Xootr paid me absolutely NOTHING to write this stuff. In fact, they have no idea (yet) that I'm writing it. As far as they're concerned, I'm just a dude in Iowa with a credit card who wanted a bike. I know, very Consumer Reports, right? I may solicit them once the review is underway, but as of this date, there's been no contact between The Cycle World Headquarters and Xootr Central beyond that of a regular old customer off the virtual street.

With that out of the way, let us begin... with a tiny box:

(helmet included for scale... and yes, I'm a fathead, but my head is not THAT fat) 

The UPS guy was kind of flummoxed by this. "That's a bike?" All I could think to say was, "I hope so!" By the way, my invoice shows that my order hit Xootr on 5/6, and this cute little box (which I'm saving for future shipping/travel) was in my garage six days later. Not bad a'tall.

And while we're at it, how about a quasi-Freudian "check out the size of my seatpost!" shot?

 (overcompensate much?) 

Here's the spy shot with our test subject still clad in its disguise so the bike-paparazzi can't get a look at what's under the hood:

Okay, kids, that's enough for today. Time for bed. Watch for future installments covering assembly, fit, and first impressions.

Origami, Part 5: Meet Your Maker

Back when I started this epic tome of a review, I mentioned that the good folks at Xootr had no clue I was talking nice and/or smack about their cute little bike. Alas, now I am a liar.

I sent them a friendly e-mail to say, "Hey, dudes, writing this thing, if you want to comment, I'll post it." I figured the opportunity for a "Manufacturer Speaks"-style rebuttal/agreeal (as seen in legitimate paper-based bicycle journalism, a.k.a. Bicycle Quarterly magazine) would be a nice gesture. Couple days later, I got a very friendly response from Brian at Xootr, who had this to say:

The one thing I would like to address is the fit. As you imagine it is hard to fit someone to a bike when you do not have them physically there with you, so going by height is more like a best guess. More often than not [it] works, but sometimes it does not. When it does not we will ship different posts, stems, etc. in order to get the correct fit for a customer. We let them play around with a combination that works best for them. We do so at our expense, sometimes including a return label or not depending on the proximity of the customer (otherwise they just keep the unused parts).

Having fitted lots and lots of people to lots and lots of bikes in person, I totally agree with Brian here. Fitting is a weird quasi-science, and it's sometimes even hard to get right when the person's standing in front of you. I give kudos to Xootr (Xootr kudos?) for providing a lot of detailed information about the reach at a variety of saddle heights and for letting customers guess and check at no additional expense. Heck, some brick-and-mortar bike shops won't do that. Plus, at the risk of beating this drum again, the bike's design (using standard inch-and-an-eighth threadless stems) really lends itself to fit tweaks down the road, unlike a lot of other folders on the market. Brian went on to say...

I will pass along the issue with the hub. They are supposed to be correct from the manufacturer, but we will inspect those in the future. Also not being an engineer or the designer (or any other designer for that matter), I cannot comment on the 130mm to 135mm spacing on the rear triangle and what stress it may or may not put on the frame. What I can say is that the frame is covered for life, but never in my 5 years with Xootr has a frame failed in that area.

I was glad to hear they're going to keep an eye on those rear hubs. Maybe I got the one their supplier set up on a grumpy Monday morning and all the rest were fine, but it really would have eaten itself alive without the intervention of a semi-trained mechanic. Regarding the rear spacing, I felt kinda guilty when it dawned on me that I'm not an engineer, the designer, or a designer either. I'm just a schlub off the street who likes to hear himself talk in blog form. So I hereby rescind my Chicken-Littling about possible long-term frame damage, but I stand by my original assertion that 132.5mm rear spacing is a royal pain in the chamois when you're trying to install a 130mm or 135mm rear wheel. As Stephen Colbert would say, "We're at war. Pick a side."

So there you have it, audience of three. I'm a real-live blogger now, in an occasional dialogue rather than a relentlessly self-indulgent monologue. Next on the docket, I'll give that report on pimping my ride that I promised in the previous post.

Origami, Part 3: It's The Little Differences

I was going to apologize for the hiatus... until I realized that nobody's paying for this stuff. (Cue Krusty the Clown "That guy's giving it away for free" quote... and no, I will not drop my pants for food.)

There's been much ado here at The Cycle World Headquarters: a trip to NYC, a distracting newfangled electronic phone-web gadget-thingie, wacky weather, you name it. But before I digress, let's jabber on a bit more regarding the latest test subject in the fleet, my (not quite so new now) Xootr Swift folder.

Part of the holdup was a quest for decent pictures. I'm giving up and admitting to myself that a) I am the world's worst photographer, and b) I spent way too many years of my life learning to make words just to replace a thousand of 'em per snapshot. So, in boring prose prattle, here are some of the Swift's greatest hits, as promised so many moons ago.

Some very cool things I noticed during assembly:

• The combination of horizontal track ends and a rear derailleur hanger. Sure, they make rear wheel removal a pain, but I like the versatility. I could take this thing to singlespeed or fixed with very little hassle.
• Those track ends are (to borrow a bottom bracket adjective) BEEFY. Like 3/8" thick (that's almost 10mm, if you're of the metric persuasion). Whether that makes a functional difference, I couldn't say. But I like the BMX-ey toughness. In fact, the whole bike has an "overbuilt for the urban grind" look that I really appreciate... fat tubes, lots of spokes, box section rims with eyelets, and tough tires. Even the pedals are all metal when they could have saved a couple bucks and gone plastic. Nice.
• Stack o'dimes welds. I don't know who the Xootr folks outsource these frames to (the sticker says Made in Taiwan) but they can wield a TIG-torch like nobody's business. Clean, even, no pinholes or gaps. Impressive.
• The funk factor. You're gonna love the look of this frame or hate it. I love it. The weird mini-triangle around the hinge makes me think of the GT Zaskar I coveted circa 1994, if somebody threw that Zaskar in a dryer and shrunk it down.
• Style to go with the funk. My wife talked me into the silver frame (I was leaning toward blue), and I'm glad I listened. With the matching finish on the fork and stem riser, the silver seatpost, a nice looking silver crank, silver brakes, silver pedals, and even a mostly-silver drivetrain, it really looks put together. The only miss? A black stem rather than the silver one shown on the Xootr site. But other than that, somebody obviously sweated the aesthetics.
• Did I mention it has a stem? Unlike Dahon, the Swift uses a regular old inch-and-an-eighth threadless stem, so you can easily play around with your reach to the bars. Nice touch.

Next up, I promise the rubber will actually hit the road.

Origami Part 4: Rubber, Meet Road

Enough of your bike-geekery assembly stories, silly man! Tell them how it rides!

Reviews I'd read of the Swift said again and again that it rides "like a bike." Good thing, as I wasn't all that interested in something that rode like an elderly donkey or a pogo stick or a block of cheese. Thankfully, those reviewers were dead-on right. It feels more "big-bikeish" than any folder I've put a leg over to date. I refuse to say it rides like a "real" bike, though, for fear of being accused of snobbism, big-wheelism, or any other sort of -ism.

To force myself into a semi-legitimate review, I first took the bike out in its 100% stock configuration, right down to the wheel reflectors... and I was impressed right off the bat. No creakies, no flexies, and not nearly as uncomfortable as the little wheels and fat tubes would seem to imply. It's weird to the eye, but the parallel 72 degree angles make for a pretty conventional-handling bike. You can feel the lack of rotational inertia in that little front wheel, but it's certainly not unstable. The overall feel is like a mountain bike on road slicks... quick to turn at low speed (nice for in-town urban commando maneuvers), stable once you spin it up (though a bit undergeared at the top end), and fun to accelerate off the line.

Sizing the Swift is one area where I'd be cautious. There's only one frame size, sure, but different rider sizes are accommodated by several seatpost lengths, two stem riser lengths, and three different stem sizes. If you're feeling trusting, you can use the "how tall are you?" size chart on the main bike page of the Swift site. Being a nerd, however, I went immediately to Fitting for Millimeter-Measuring Princess-and-the-Pea Types (not the page's real name, but it should be). Glad I did, too -- the simple chart would have put me on a large (with stock seatpost, slightly longer stem, and the shorter riser), while measuring my favorite bike against the Nerd Page pointed me to an XXL: long post, long riser, and long upjutting stem.

The resulting fit was city-bike right: Able to reach my preferred leg extension with no problems, bars level with the saddle, and a bolt-upright reach. Of course, I don't like bolt-upright, so after just a couple rides in stock configuration, I swapped the stock stem for one that's a couple centimeters longer (aside to Xootr... at least 120mm should be standard issue for anybody big enough for an XXL. Trust me.) That was bliss, and I haven't tweaked fit since. Double-bonus, the stem I swapped in is silver, so my one aesthetic quibble from my last post is now fixed.

Next up: We ditch the reflectors, probably void a manufacturer's warranty, and get down to business with some (minor) customizations!

Close Encounters Of The Brompton Kind

I met another local folding bike enthusiast at a neighbor's party last weekend and -- finally -- got to put my paws on an oh-so-British Brompton origami cycle.

First impression? WOW, that is one compact fold. In its fully-folded state, the thing looks like a bicycle that's been squashed in a trash compactor. It's just a little rectangular block of twisty metal with the occasionally recognizable bike part showing through. But in a few simple motions, the owner turned that little block into an actual bicycle. And, zip zip zip, just as quickly, he had it back in "cube" mode. Even better, the rear rack (which ends up on the bottom when the bike is folded) is equipped with wheels so the package can be rolled around instead of carried. So elegant.

Even more impressive, he was able to teach me the folding sequence -- despite the fact that at that point in the party, neither one of us was in any condition to operate machinery of any sort (lest there be any concern for our safety/responsibility, I walked home while he and the bike got a ride from a designated driver). Once I'd mastered the fold, we had to head over to my garage so he could geek out on my Swift and my wife's Raleigh 20.

I obviously have no ride report, considering my state at the time, but we did promise to get together again under less festive circumstances and play Musical Folding Bikes. I'm crazy excited about this prospect, as the Brompton has always fascinated me. My only fear is that I'll feel the need to own one after riding it.

Origami, Part 6: Tweaking The Beast

Yes, dear reader, you can give me a "Finally! Gosh!" (in your best Napoleon Dynamite voice) now. It's the long-awaited Xootr Swift customization post. Break out your pocket of tots and get comfy.

Back when the Swift was just a gleam in my eye, I had some ideas about how I would tweak one to make it uniquely mine. That should tell you a lot about me and my bike habits... even the ones I'm just thinking about owning in the distant future are already in the queue for my workstand. The actual bike thwarted some of those imagined customizations -- sometimes for the better, sometimes not.

• Drop bar conversion. The SRAM drivetrain uses one of their non-Shimano-compatible rear derailleurs with the 1:1 cable pull ratio... and the dumb thing works! I have a bad history with Grip Shift (dating back to the "X-Ray" models of the mid-90s that worked for about two dirty rides), but unlike me, they've learned a LOT in the intervening decade and a half. The relatively inexpensive SRAM stuff that came on the Swift is as crisp as any twist shifter I've experienced... so until it dies, it's staying on there, and I'll defer my drop-bar delusions (since the shifter won't fit on drops and the derailleur can't mix-and-match with drop-bar compatible Shimano shifters).
• Brake upgrade. Dang, another inexpensive product exceeds my expectations. I also have a long history of loathing when it comes to Tektro v-brakes. Flexing, howling, impossible to keep centered... but enough about me. These Quartz models (methinks they're the M710 shown on that page) have been a pleasant surprise, though, displaying none of those qualities and looking kinda neat in the process (a very industrial, I-beam sort of thing). The stock pads are meh, but they'll do until they wear out.
• Extra stem/bar for accessories. Thwarted. I expected the stem riser to be an inch and an eighth along its entire length, but it bulges not far below the stem to something bigger (I haven't measured, but my guess is an inch and a quarter). If I find a stem to fit that fat section of the riser (yeah, because there are SO many inch and a quarter threadless stems out there), I might still try it, but it hasn't been a priority yet. If  I go there, I suppose I could move the Grip Shift to the accessory bar, allowing me to go ahead with my drop-bar conversion plans.

So what did I actually change? Well, I always take the provided contact points (saddle, bars/grips and pedals) as little more than a manufacturer's suggestion, and the Swift was no different. The saddle was a bit squishy for my tastes (it's the newbie's paradox... the softest saddles can hurt the most) so it went to the parts box for something a little firmer, narrower and lighter. The stock pedals were swapped for some BMX platforms... not because the stock ones were bad (they're all metal and very nice, a big improvement over the usual OEM plastic disposables), just because I could. And I'm trying out some Ergon grips (a sponsor of the great Kent P and his recent -- epic! -- Tour Divide ride) -- jury's still out there. Tack on a big saddlebag, a bottle cage, a bell, and some clip-on fenders, and it's a bike!

Oh, there was one other thing: theft resistance. Des Moines isn't exactly a hotbed of bike pilfering, but I always try to make sure my bike is a harder target than the one locked next to it. To that end, I replaced the wheel quick releases with hex-head skewers, and even went so far as to do the same with the three quick release binders (two at the seatpost and one at the stem riser) that accommodate the folding process. CAUTION: I do NOT know if Xootr would recommend that last bit. I just assumed that since the folding QRs looked like seat binders, I could replace them safely with non-QR seat binders. So far, it's working out fine. It does slow the folding process, but since I plan to use the fold as a fairly rare "take it on a trip/shove it in a trunk" feature rather than a part of my daily commute (more on that in a future post), I don't mind.

Here's the final result, in bad, blurry, phone-photo form:

Folding bike at rest.

Hey, where'd my helmet go?

I like it! The bike, that is, not the crummy photography.

Origami, Part 2: Assembly Line

 (It's starting to look like... a funny-looking little bike.)

I do not read instructions. Never have. Funny, since I write instructions in my quasi-professional life. It's a male ego thing. (Huh, a blogger with an ego, go figure.)

So when I unearthed the assembly instructions for the new Swift, I gave them a quick flip-through to see if there was anything unusual, found nothing of the sort, tossed them aside, and set upon the packing-wrapped bike like a vulture on fresh roadkill. And -- save for two big gotcha moments I'll explain later -- it came together like a bike oughta.

This was my first mail-ordered complete bike ever, so I admit to being a little curious how it would assemble. The "company line" in my shop-wrench days was that it took the careful hand of a trained mechanic (okay, pimply high school kid) to lovingly shape the pile of unrecognizable parts in a bike box into a harmonious wheeled whole. The thought that the average schmoe off the street could just pull a bike out of the box, slap it together with the three tools listed on the top flap (I believe they were "hammer, screwdriver/cold chisel, bigger hammer") and ride off was ludicrous.

Assembling the Swift both proved and disproved those old beliefs. For the most part, it was just fine. Brakes were pretty darn close. Derailleur, not so bad. Front wheel: Dead-on true and round. The front hub was a little snug and the headset was a little loose, but both were well within a reasonable person's tolerances. Let's call it a B minus.

THEN there was that back wheel. Oh boy. Grabbing the rim and giving a shake revealed the clunk of a slightly-loose hub. Weird. If a hub's going to be wrong from the factory, it's going to be tight 99 out of 100 times. So I loosened the quick release and gave a tug to drop the wheel out of the frame. Huh. Didn't want to come out. Okay, so that's just how it goes with the combination of track ends and a derailleur hanger, I figure. Kind of an awkward removal combination. I gently lifted the chain over the right dropout to eliminate that variable, no luck. Finally, I gave the tire a bit of gentle persuasion (read: "a serious whack") and the wheel popped out like a champagne cork.

Count this as Gotcha #1: The rear triangle uses 132.5mm spacing, between the road-hub standard of 130mm and the mountain-hub standard of 135mm. I know I read that on the Xootr website, but I'd forgotten. This "neither fish nor fowl" spacing (which -- in Xootr's defense -- is used by a few others too, including the usually-smarter-than-that Grant Peterson at Rivendell) needs to die a quick, painful death. I understand the well-intentioned theory: You can put a 130 hub in there with a little squeeze or a 135 with a little stretch, and heck, it's only a 1.25mm difference per side, so what's the big whoop? But in practice, the 130 makes it a nuisance to use the quick release and the 135 requires Charles Atlas forearms to spring the rear triangle -- especially when it's big, beefy and aluminum like the Swift's. Never mind the fact that you aren't supposed to cold-set aluminum, and mis-spaced/misaligned dropouts can eventually lead to axle or frame failure. So, thanks for the well-meaning attempt, Xootr folks, but you lose points on that decision. The next time I wrestle that hub out, I'm looking to see if there are any spacers I can remove to make the hub actually fit the frame.

Okay, Mr. Gripes-a-lot, you've got the wheel out, so what's Gotcha #2? As I'd guessed, the hub was loose. Hmm. The locknut wasn't snug against the cone on the drive side, so it had backed out. And the hub designer had thoughtfully buried the cone's wrench flats deep in the bowels of the cassette. So, happy day, I had to back the non-drive cone/locknut WAY off just to access the cone on the drive side (almost losing a couple ball bearings in the process) before I could snug it up. Minor annoyance, but an annoyance, and certainly not something the (long ago aforementioned) average schmoe off the street could deal with. So there goes Average Schmoe, who has popped his bike out of the box and ridden off, blissfully unaware that his rear hub is eating itself alive. Not good. (Aside: That loose locknut on the drive side also seemed to have prevented the cassette lockring from tightening sufficiently -- since those are probably driven on quick and dirty with an air tool -- but since I had to pop the cassette to access the hub anyway, that got fixed by default.)

I know this little installment of my (headed toward epic, copyright Rapha) tale is coming off pretty negative. Stay tuned for Chapter 3, when I promise to say plenty of nice things about the details on the bike (many of them quite thoughtful -- the details, not what I say about them) and -- gasp -- I might actually even ride the thing!