Milwaukee's Best

As of last Friday, I had never set foot in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. We drove by on the way to our honeymoon in Door County, but never graced MKE with our presence. Friends who've visited and/or lived there said we would like it, and we'd talked about taking a weekend, but the stars just hadn't aligned.

Until last weekend, that is. We were looking for someplace to go to celebrate Carla's second graduation from Drake University (a school so nice, she went there twice) when we realized that The Decemberists (the latest band for whom I've developed a cult-like devotion) were playing up there. Stars? Aligned.

So, now that I'm safely back in my Des Moines nest, here are some of the hits (and a few tiny misses) from a long weekend in the land of the cheeseheads:

THE DOWNTOWN HILTON: Thanks to the random blessing of those name-your-price websites, we ended up in a pretty classy joint. The Milwaukee Hilton is clearly an OLD building that's been kept up over the years. It made for a pretty stylish and comfy home base as we worked our way around the town. How can you not feel important when you're greeted by a guy in a top hat every time you come to the door? I felt like an extra in a film adaptation of The Great Gatsby every time I went through the lobby. Downside? Internet access was $10 a day, which is why The Cycle didn't post live reports from the scene (my thumbs are too fat to use Carla's smartphone). Upside? Walking distance from two of our major attractions, the aforementioned Decemberists concert and the art museum.

MIND-NUMBINGLY GOOD LOCAL COFFEE: I went 3-for-4 on coffee over the weekend (the lone miss was a desperation run to the Starbucks in the Hilton), drinking local brew so good that it made my toes curl. Most notable was Alterra, a Milwaukee chain. The location I visited was right next to a yarn shop, which kept Carla occupied while I downed refill after refill of astonishingly good joe. The monstrous dual roasters looked like something out of science fiction, and it was only the "no customers past this point" chains that kept me from worshiping on the massive steel steps of their twin metallic altars.

THE ONION: Sorry, Des Moines, but you aren't a real city until I can pick up a paper copy of The Onion within your borders. Get on that, please.

BEN'S CYCLE/MILWAUKEE BICYCLE COMPANY: MKE-hip pals on the iBOB mailing list told me that Ben's/MBC was the shop to see, and they did not lie. I started at Ben's (on one side of the street) and was kind of let down. Seemed like a pretty ordinary bike shop to me, other than a little more emphasis on hipster fixie stuff than I'm used to down here in RAGBRAI Central. Then, I crossed the street to MBC. Have you ever fallen in love with a bicycle at first sight? I'm talking totally smitten, "oh, you will be mine" cycle-lust? The orange MBC fixie in the window did that to me. In my defense, it was built around the massive tire/fender clearances of Tektro R556 brake calipers, so it would have been a sensible relationship, not just one based on physical beauty. I was able to leave the shop with my love unrequited, but not before we'd shared a few gentle caresses.

THE AFOREMENTIONED DECEMBERISTS CONCERT: Take one cool old theater (The Riverside -- a refurb'ed match to our classy old Hilton), throw my current cult favorite band on stage, and it's a sure-fire winner. Mix in a good opening act and great seats? We were so money, we didn't even know how money we were. The first set was the band's current concept/folk-rock-opera album The Hazards of Love (not nearly as pretentious as it sounds, really) in its entirety. Beginning to end. No breaks. One song relentlessly piling on to the next. From vocalist Shara Worden loosening the theater's plaster on "The Wanting Comes in Waves/Repaid" to the entire band taking up drums to accompany "The Rake's Song" in a blasting percussion chorus... absolutely stunning. And just when I thought, "Well, okay, but I can listen to that album at home," the band kicked off a very loose, fun second set, pulling a few gems out of the rest of the discography. In a bizarrely rocking twist, bandleader Colin Meloy started the acoustic guitar intro to Heart's "Crazy on You" -- I thought he was joking until the rest of the band kicked in and Worden and vocalist Becky Stark appeared on stage to again risk the building's structural integrity with an explosive take on the old gem. Perhaps one of the best concerts I've ever attended. Seriously.

MILWAUKEE ART MUSEUM: I am not the art geek of the family. That's Carla. But when a museum walks my feet off and still leaves me wanting more, that's saying something. We showed up right when it opened and got to see the sail-like roof unfurl with Lake Michigan in the background. Then it was off to gallery after gallery after gallery after gallery of one of the most diverse collections I've ever seen. Yummy lunch break in the museum restaurant, then MORE galleries... and galleries... and galleries. If there's a specific type of art you're really interested in, go there first. Carla saved the massive folk/outsider art collection for late in the day, and we almost didn't have the energy to finish it. I knew we were in the presence of greatness when my wife -- who devours lesser museums like dainty finger-sandwich appetizers -- turned to me after we'd seen about 75% of the place and said, "We have to stop now. My brain is full."

ALL THE REST: Didn't eat a bad meal the whole weekend, saw a bike culture of everything from fixie hipsters to everyday commuters wheeling around town that put Des Moines to shame, and -- save for one incident with a mystery missing exit -- didn't get lost once, nor did I ever have to pull a driving maneuver that caused someone else to curse Iowans. Honestly, it felt like I expect the Midwest to feel, only in city form -- kinda Minneapolis/St. Paulish, very comfortable despite its novelty. I'm not normally one for wanderlust, but within a couple days, I thought to myself, "I could see living here." And that's high praise.

(The side trip through Madison on the way home was fun too, but that's another story for another day...)

Homebrewed Tool Tip

I'm trying to get my mechanical hubris back after yesterday's debacle, so I thought I'd dig back through the old shop bag of tricks for a post.

Today's tip is the legendary Homemade Poker/Scraper Tool. I can't take full credit for it since I got it from Paul, my head mechanic when I wrenched in Iowa City. Paul was a hidden legend -- nothing mechanical seemed to faze him, from epicyclic hub overhauls to adding grease fittings to the ski-tuning equipment. He was also doing off-road single-speeding back in the mid-90s before it had dawned on anyone else. The guy could shred all of us on a junked-out warranty frame with one cog and a homemade chain tensioner.

The poker/scraper is one of the simplest homebrewed tools ever. One: Find a broken old spoke. Two: Cut off the elbow (assuming it's not already gone). Three: Lay one end on a flat metal surface and whang on it with a big hammer until a couple inches have been flattened. Four: Sharpen the other end to a point (a bench grinder is the quick way, but a Dremel or file will do the trick too). If you're feeling extra fancy, bend the resulting tool until it has a little loop in the middle for pegboard hanging... or you can just store it by poking it into a pegboard hole.

It seems simple to the point of useless, but you'd be surprised how often a flattened and/or sharpened hunk of spoke can help out while wrenching. The poking end is great for opening up the liner in a freshly-cut piece of brake or derailleur cable housing. The scraping end can get gunk out from between cassette cogs (proceed with caution, however, as the poking end can bite). Dirt clogging up your cleat bolts? Shard of glass stuck in a tire casing? Need to toast a marshmallow for s'mores? Reach for the poker/scraper.

(Hubris sidenote: Today's 20-mile TTT -- Touring Time Trial -- was delightfully creak-free, so it would seem that yesterday's debacle paid off and the teflon plumber's tape performed as expected. Either that, or it was a coincidence and I accidentally tightened up the problem bolt while I was doing all that disassembly and assembly. Either way, I'll take it.)

Measuring "Value" In Bikes

I was skulking around a local bike shop the other day trying not to get waited on (yep, I'm that guy) when I overheard a conversation that really took me back. The sales guy had obviously been chatting up another potential customer for a little bit when he went to the greatest conversation starter there is in bike sales: "What do you ride?"

Before I let the guy answer, let me explain why that is -- without question -- one of the most outstanding sales pitch openers:

1. It doesn't let the customer say, "No thanks, just looking." You want to hurt a salesperson who understands how sales work? Toss out a "just looking" and stop making eye contact. (If you want to stab that salesperson in the heart, wait a few minutes before you ask another salesperson a question.)
2. It invites the customer to talk about his/her own bike. What bike nerd doesn't want to do that? Instant camaraderie/rapport.
   
3. It tells the salesperson what the potential customer is interested in, bike-wise... what kind of riding he/she does, what he/she spends on bikes, possible brand loyalties, weird retro tendencies, etc.
4. It creates openings for sales spiel that look natural/organic. Customer's riding something from one of your brands? "They just came out with a new [whatever's hot from that brand]... you gotta check it out." Customer's riding old steel? "Wow, that's a classic. Those bikes are really making a comeback, like this [whatever company happens to be jumping on the retro bandwagon this year]." You get the idea.

So I was duly impressed that Sales Guy knew how to open, especially since I was in one of our less-impressive local bike purveyors. His potential prey's response?

"It's a Trek. And it's like a $3,000 bike, so it's a really good one."

I confess, even though I've been out of bike sales for a decade now, a little bubble of drool formed in the corner of my mouth. It's just not often that you encounter this particular species in the wild. It's the rare "brand plus cost equals value equals respect" shopper, i.e., "I have a bike from a reputable company that cost me a lot of money, therefore, it is awesome, therefore, I am awesome, so please like me! Please really like me!"

If you're a sales shark who has to pay your rent with commissions, those guys (and sadly, they're usually guys) are absolutely GOLDEN. They don't know what's good or bad, and probably don't even know what they like or dislike. They just know brand and cost, and know that the more expensive one must be better somehow. We had one in my last shop, a big-fish/small-pond lawyer who I was taught to know on sight and immediately direct to the most expensive thing in the shop, because he simply wasn't interested in anything he didn't perceive as the best of the best. We actually used his name (which I'm leaving out to protect the innocent... and the guilty) among ourselves as a shorthand for that kind of customer.

Ever hear the story of the guy who had a cheap old bike that he loved, rode it for years and years before he finally treated himself to some Amazing New Vunderbike, but when dosed with truth serum and/or post-ride beers, he admitted that the ANV wasn't as comfortable or fun to ride as his old junker? Welcome to the "brand plus cost equals value" mentality. I wish I were immune to it, but everybody falls into the trap (heck, read my recent post fawning over a Vanilla for just one example). I can't count the number of bikes I've bought (and subsequently resold) that were supposed to be better than what I already had just based on reputation or cost or magazine hype. I had a carbon race bike that beat me senseless and could be (and often was) rendered unrideable by one broken spoke, but damn, did it look sweet hanging in the garage. I had a gorgeous lugged frame from a small U.S. shop that never fit me right, but I just kept sticking different stems in it, desperately trying to sew that sow's ear into a silk purse. Even when you think you know what's good and bad, what you like and dislike, the bike placebo effect can kick in. You change something -- raise a saddle, change pedals, rewrap handlebar tape -- and feel like you've just channeled Lance, at least until the novelty wears off.

I thought I was stumbling toward a point there, but no such luck. Consumerism is weird? Humans are complex and not always rational? Don't trust a salesperson who asks what kind of bike you ride? I dunno.

For the record, $3,000 Trek Guy didn't make any purchases. Guess he was just looking.