If you're bored with my bottom bracket incompetence, surf away before it's too late!
If, however, you take great joy in the misfortunes of others, have I got a post for you.
So I'd had issues with a cross-threaded BB cup (that I now know I can blame on Former Neighbor Steve for polluting my garage with his bad cross-threading juju), but I'd stolen a cup from another bike that (I thought) was compatible and (I thought) fixed the problem. Did a few rides on the bike, including a fast (for me) out-and-back 26-miler to Cumming, IA Thursday night. No creaks, no rattles, smooth spinning.
Then I saddled up for my commute home yesterday. Got about five blocks from work when things started feeling wrong. Pedals were wobbly underfoot, and each turn of the cranks made this awful grinding sound. Oh crap.
Stopped, assessed the situation, and realized that either a) the cup I thought was compatible actually wasn't, or b) I was too timid after the cross-threading adventure and didn't torque the cup down hard enough. Said cup had backed its way out of the frame far enough to let the cartridge BB rattle around (causing the wobbly feeling) and grind the chainring into the shiny, formerly-pristine metallic brown repaint on my right chainstay (thus the awful sound).
No way I can fix that by the side of the road, and no way I can ride it home. And my cell phone barely has enough juice to make one call.
In the words of the poet Homer, "DOH!"
I managed to get a quick "myphoneisdyingpleasecomepickmeupatthecornerofsecondandMLK" call to my wife and get rescued, but it was NOT how I'd hoped my day would end.
Today, I put in a different cup and torqued that sucker to "gorilla." We'll see if that does the trick.
Showing posts with label equipment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label equipment. Show all posts
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
Tire Stuff: A Follow-Up
My post about the humble Michelin Dynamic actually garnered an off-blog reader e-mail from (I presume) a real person who just stumbled into this dark corner of the interweb. I was more than a little humbled (though not as humble as the Dynamic) to find out that my audience is bigger than just the visible core that comments on my prattle. So, in Aden's honor (hi, Aden!), I'll try to address some of those off-blog tire questions here for the (questionable) benefit of all.
Aden writes:
I live in a relatively rural area in central Virginia, and my riding will be about 80 percent pavement (and to a lesser extent, hardpack bike trails)--lots of group rides, limited commuting, etc--and about 20 percent unimproved roads (dirt/gravel), fire roads, and the like--just casual outings, nothing that would really qualify as "mountain biking". So should I go with the 700x28s or the 700x32s (my rims are 15mm wide, inside measurement, BTW, and I'm a light rider at 145 lbs). I'm sure the larger tires would be smoother riding and perhaps better on the trails, but I'm also concerned about weight and shooting for minimal rolling resistance since the larger percent of riding I will be doing will be on pavement. What to do?
First, I need to disqualify myself on two counts. One, I've never been to any areas of any part of Virginia, so I can't say what's suitable for a rural area in central Virginia. Two, I haven't been 145 pounds since about the fourth grade (yup, I was a husky lad), so the world of the sub-150-pounder is about as foreign to me as the Klingon home world.
But, with those caveats in mind, here's my nutshell response: Read Volume 5, Number 1 of Bicycle Quarterly. Seriously. I'm just a subscriber, not a shill (and I have my issues with some of BQ's other research/hypotheses), but V5#1 (commonly known as the tire test issue) is a winner. It's the only research I'm aware of that attempts to put tires to a real world test (where most of us ride) rather than spinning them on a steel drum in a lab and calling it good.
In that real world, I've found BQ's somewhat controversial assertion that wider tires at lower pressures actually roll faster to be true. How can that be, when everyone else seems to say that the skinner and harder you can run your tires, the faster you'll be? Think about the roads you ride on. Are they perfectly hardwood-floor smooth? I'm guessing not. Mine are pretty bumpy. And when I hit those bumps, a narrow tire with a lot of pressure tries to bounce. Maybe a tire bouncing Aden's 145 pounds is no biggie, but to bounce my girth takes some energy -- energy that's no longer available to move said girth forward.
Now, hit those same bumps with a tire that's maybe 10mm wider than race rubber (at least 32mm) and running down around 70-80 psi. The tire deforms rather than bouncing, and the bike/rider keeps plowing ahead with a lot less wasted energy. This is all a grotesque oversimplification of the fine work in BQ, but it at least gives you the drift.
Aden also asked about weight, which can often be the bugaboo of this "wider is better" argument. After all, tire manufacturers have chased that "skinnier is faster" fallacy for a while now, so they assume their 700x32/35/38 offerings are only being snapped up by tourists and commuters -- folks who aren't trying to get anywhere in a hurry, but want a tire that won't flat easily. That leaves the fat-tire buying public with a lot of similar choices: thick rubber, chunky sidewalls, belts to deflect poky objects, and a lot of weight -- which can take work to spin up to speed. The Dynamic isn't bad in a 700x32 (at a claimed 360 grams, though I kinda don't buy that), but it still starts with a thick cap of rubber in the tread area that could be lighter/more supple.
What I'd like to see is an unbelted, folding semi-slick for 700c wheels in about a 40mm width. No extraordinary measures to prevent flats, just a reasonable rubber cap and nice flexible sidewalls. Proponents of the kooky 650B tire size (tee hee, how I love poking the 650B bear) claim that the 650Bx42 Gran Bois Hetre (imported by Bicycle Quarterly, so I guess I am a shill after all) is the tire I seek, but I'd like it in a normal diameter, please. And while you're at it, how about black sidewalls and tread? That's not a baguette in my pannier (I'm just happy to see you), so I don't need to look like a 1950s Frenchman headed out for a picnic.
Um, Aden, what was that question again?
Aden writes:
I live in a relatively rural area in central Virginia, and my riding will be about 80 percent pavement (and to a lesser extent, hardpack bike trails)--lots of group rides, limited commuting, etc--and about 20 percent unimproved roads (dirt/gravel), fire roads, and the like--just casual outings, nothing that would really qualify as "mountain biking". So should I go with the 700x28s or the 700x32s (my rims are 15mm wide, inside measurement, BTW, and I'm a light rider at 145 lbs). I'm sure the larger tires would be smoother riding and perhaps better on the trails, but I'm also concerned about weight and shooting for minimal rolling resistance since the larger percent of riding I will be doing will be on pavement. What to do?
First, I need to disqualify myself on two counts. One, I've never been to any areas of any part of Virginia, so I can't say what's suitable for a rural area in central Virginia. Two, I haven't been 145 pounds since about the fourth grade (yup, I was a husky lad), so the world of the sub-150-pounder is about as foreign to me as the Klingon home world.
But, with those caveats in mind, here's my nutshell response: Read Volume 5, Number 1 of Bicycle Quarterly. Seriously. I'm just a subscriber, not a shill (and I have my issues with some of BQ's other research/hypotheses), but V5#1 (commonly known as the tire test issue) is a winner. It's the only research I'm aware of that attempts to put tires to a real world test (where most of us ride) rather than spinning them on a steel drum in a lab and calling it good.
In that real world, I've found BQ's somewhat controversial assertion that wider tires at lower pressures actually roll faster to be true. How can that be, when everyone else seems to say that the skinner and harder you can run your tires, the faster you'll be? Think about the roads you ride on. Are they perfectly hardwood-floor smooth? I'm guessing not. Mine are pretty bumpy. And when I hit those bumps, a narrow tire with a lot of pressure tries to bounce. Maybe a tire bouncing Aden's 145 pounds is no biggie, but to bounce my girth takes some energy -- energy that's no longer available to move said girth forward.
Now, hit those same bumps with a tire that's maybe 10mm wider than race rubber (at least 32mm) and running down around 70-80 psi. The tire deforms rather than bouncing, and the bike/rider keeps plowing ahead with a lot less wasted energy. This is all a grotesque oversimplification of the fine work in BQ, but it at least gives you the drift.
Aden also asked about weight, which can often be the bugaboo of this "wider is better" argument. After all, tire manufacturers have chased that "skinnier is faster" fallacy for a while now, so they assume their 700x32/35/38 offerings are only being snapped up by tourists and commuters -- folks who aren't trying to get anywhere in a hurry, but want a tire that won't flat easily. That leaves the fat-tire buying public with a lot of similar choices: thick rubber, chunky sidewalls, belts to deflect poky objects, and a lot of weight -- which can take work to spin up to speed. The Dynamic isn't bad in a 700x32 (at a claimed 360 grams, though I kinda don't buy that), but it still starts with a thick cap of rubber in the tread area that could be lighter/more supple.
What I'd like to see is an unbelted, folding semi-slick for 700c wheels in about a 40mm width. No extraordinary measures to prevent flats, just a reasonable rubber cap and nice flexible sidewalls. Proponents of the kooky 650B tire size (tee hee, how I love poking the 650B bear) claim that the 650Bx42 Gran Bois Hetre (imported by Bicycle Quarterly, so I guess I am a shill after all) is the tire I seek, but I'd like it in a normal diameter, please. And while you're at it, how about black sidewalls and tread? That's not a baguette in my pannier (I'm just happy to see you), so I don't need to look like a 1950s Frenchman headed out for a picnic.
Um, Aden, what was that question again?
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Retro Raleigh Rolling
A confession: None of my bikes are ever "done." Heck, I was just swapping pedals on a bike that I've owned for seven years, and last night that same bike got a rear rack (the same rack that I took off last year, which replaced the rack that had been on the bike two years before that). I say they're all works in progress, while my wife would probably say I'm a serial futzer. So I can't call the Raleigh a completed thing, but it's at least reached a point of temporary happiness.The drivetrain is 40x17 fixed, with a de-toothed old 42-tooth chainring in the outer position as a chainguard. The chopped 42 doesn't give enough coverage over a 40, but it was the biggest sacrificial ring in my stash and it looks better than the black 40 sitting alone on the inner position (where chainline is best).
Just to prove that I'm developing a Wald addiction, the bars are straight outta Kentucky, model #8095 as seen at The 6-Miler. Cork grips for squish and style, brake lever with a lock button (for a parking brake effect), Kool Stop pads on the original Weinmann front centerpull, spare saddle, old saddlebag, ugly BMX pedals, and away we go!
(I didn't route the front brake to the right lever to be extra-British. I just can't find the left lever.)
In a perfect world, I'd have a bigger chainguard, some fenders (probably Wald again), a nicer-looking saddle, less-homely pedals, and fancier luggage (or a front basket -- do I dare say Wald? Jeez, I am such a shill), but as it stands right now, it's a hoot to hop on and just take off. Sure, it looks like I stole it from a pipe-smoking, leather-elbow-patches college professor, but it goes like a retro race rocket... at least until my pudgy legs can't catch up with the 40x17 any more.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
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:
"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.
Before I let the guy answer, let me explain why that is -- without question -- one of the most outstanding sales pitch openers:
- 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.)
- It invites the customer to talk about his/her own bike. What bike nerd doesn't want to do that? Instant camaraderie/rapport.
- 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.
- 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.
"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.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Product Review: The Humble Michelin Dynamic
I've been a skidge negative lately, so I figure it's time for a "happy human" product review.
Today, I give you the Michelin Dynamic. Let's not kid ourselves here. This is not a fancy tire. It doesn't claim to have any magical qualities in its rubber, no fancy dual-compound stripes, no flat-shielding belts, and not even much of a label. It has a basic steel bead. It's been around a while under different names -- back in the '90s, I think it was the Tracer. You can see that the poor Michelin website doesn't really know what to do with it. Sure, they made up RB and SW techno-jargon-acronyms (for "Rigid Bead" and "Skin Walls") just so there would be something to put on the "technical" tab, but I can hear the copywriter saying, "jeez, I dunno, it's just a tire."
So what's to like about the Dynamic? Well, in this age of hyperspecialization (and resulting hyperpricing), "just a tire" can be a pretty good thing. The Dynamic is an almost-slick tire in the tradition of the quietly legendary (and long gone, rumor has it) Avocet FasGrip series. It's nice and round, corners predictably, rides smoother than its price and utility would suggest, resists flats (around here) pretty well considering its lack of fancy belts, doesn't weigh a ton, and has pretty impressive durability. My set of 700x32s just got retired to the trash bin after three years and probably 8,000 miles of all-surface riding. They could have gone through the end of this season, but the tread was finally thin enough that they were flatting on things that newer ones would have shrugged off.
Did I mention cheap? I think the highest price I've ever seen for a Dynamic was $20 per tire. A savvy web shopper can probably scare them up for as little as $12. They're available in a full range of honest 700c sizes (23, 25, 28, and 32) that all measure true if not a bit wider. Retro-fashionistas will decry their black sidewalls, but I find that blackwalls hold up better to UV exposure (no science there, just personal experience.)
So there you have it: A good, cheap tire. Your mileage may vary, but I like 'em a lot.
Today, I give you the Michelin Dynamic. Let's not kid ourselves here. This is not a fancy tire. It doesn't claim to have any magical qualities in its rubber, no fancy dual-compound stripes, no flat-shielding belts, and not even much of a label. It has a basic steel bead. It's been around a while under different names -- back in the '90s, I think it was the Tracer. You can see that the poor Michelin website doesn't really know what to do with it. Sure, they made up RB and SW techno-jargon-acronyms (for "Rigid Bead" and "Skin Walls") just so there would be something to put on the "technical" tab, but I can hear the copywriter saying, "jeez, I dunno, it's just a tire."
So what's to like about the Dynamic? Well, in this age of hyperspecialization (and resulting hyperpricing), "just a tire" can be a pretty good thing. The Dynamic is an almost-slick tire in the tradition of the quietly legendary (and long gone, rumor has it) Avocet FasGrip series. It's nice and round, corners predictably, rides smoother than its price and utility would suggest, resists flats (around here) pretty well considering its lack of fancy belts, doesn't weigh a ton, and has pretty impressive durability. My set of 700x32s just got retired to the trash bin after three years and probably 8,000 miles of all-surface riding. They could have gone through the end of this season, but the tread was finally thin enough that they were flatting on things that newer ones would have shrugged off.
Did I mention cheap? I think the highest price I've ever seen for a Dynamic was $20 per tire. A savvy web shopper can probably scare them up for as little as $12. They're available in a full range of honest 700c sizes (23, 25, 28, and 32) that all measure true if not a bit wider. Retro-fashionistas will decry their black sidewalls, but I find that blackwalls hold up better to UV exposure (no science there, just personal experience.)
So there you have it: A good, cheap tire. Your mileage may vary, but I like 'em a lot.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Still Retro-MTB Obsessing
Now that I've finally outed my unquenchable thirst for that old-school, all-rigid mountain bike aesthetic of the late 80s/early 90s, I can't help but pick it apart. It's the curse of having been to graduate school in a liberal arts field: You can't just "like" or "dislike" something, you have to analyze (in stomach-churning detail) exactly WHY you "like" or "dislike" that thing.
For retro mountain bikes, I think it's the way that their underlying shape never seems dated (I know, talking about "underlying shape" ignores the twin elephants in the room of hideous 80s paint jobs and 90s anodizing. My blog, my dodge.) Take, for example, this Bruce Gordon Rock 'n' Road Tour EX. Admittedly, it's not really a mountain bike per se, but it's an example of a 26"-wheeled all-rigid bike you can buy in 2009. You don't have to squint much to see the direct lineage back to the brief era of late-80s drop-bar mountain bikes like the '87 Bridgestone MB-1 or the '89 Specialized RockCombo. And even though the Gordon in the photo is probably 10 years old by now (just judging by the vintage of its XT parts), it wouldn't look out of place up against today's Surly Long Haul Trucker (which owes a lot of its genetic code to Bruce Gordon's designs), save for the whole threaded/threadless steerer difference. Similarly, you could fire up the flux capacitor and send an '09 Novara Buzz V back to 1993 without freaking out the trail riders of 16 years ago with your crazy future bike. Heck, they'd probably call you retro for not having a suspension fork!
My more-purist pals on the iBOB list will claim the same sort of timelessness for a lugged road frame, but my eye doesn't see it. I really like the '71 Raleigh International I got from pal Steve, but it obviously comes from another era. Modern "frilly lug" designs (like those from Rivendell) strike me not as proof of the "timelessness" of that aesthetic but as desperate attempts to get back something that's long gone. And modern "Raleigh" (scare-quotes intentional) -- with its retro logos, 70s color palette, and sprinkling of Brooks leather eye-candy -- looks like a room full of marketers trying to add scratch-and-sniff "authenticity" to yet another lineup of generic imports.
I'm also willing to admit that maybe these preferences are just because I bought into the "rad, cool, extreme" marketing when I was an impressionable youth and never gave it up. Hey, my sacred cows tip over just like anyone else's!
For retro mountain bikes, I think it's the way that their underlying shape never seems dated (I know, talking about "underlying shape" ignores the twin elephants in the room of hideous 80s paint jobs and 90s anodizing. My blog, my dodge.) Take, for example, this Bruce Gordon Rock 'n' Road Tour EX. Admittedly, it's not really a mountain bike per se, but it's an example of a 26"-wheeled all-rigid bike you can buy in 2009. You don't have to squint much to see the direct lineage back to the brief era of late-80s drop-bar mountain bikes like the '87 Bridgestone MB-1 or the '89 Specialized RockCombo. And even though the Gordon in the photo is probably 10 years old by now (just judging by the vintage of its XT parts), it wouldn't look out of place up against today's Surly Long Haul Trucker (which owes a lot of its genetic code to Bruce Gordon's designs), save for the whole threaded/threadless steerer difference. Similarly, you could fire up the flux capacitor and send an '09 Novara Buzz V back to 1993 without freaking out the trail riders of 16 years ago with your crazy future bike. Heck, they'd probably call you retro for not having a suspension fork!
My more-purist pals on the iBOB list will claim the same sort of timelessness for a lugged road frame, but my eye doesn't see it. I really like the '71 Raleigh International I got from pal Steve, but it obviously comes from another era. Modern "frilly lug" designs (like those from Rivendell) strike me not as proof of the "timelessness" of that aesthetic but as desperate attempts to get back something that's long gone. And modern "Raleigh" (scare-quotes intentional) -- with its retro logos, 70s color palette, and sprinkling of Brooks leather eye-candy -- looks like a room full of marketers trying to add scratch-and-sniff "authenticity" to yet another lineup of generic imports.
I'm also willing to admit that maybe these preferences are just because I bought into the "rad, cool, extreme" marketing when I was an impressionable youth and never gave it up. Hey, my sacred cows tip over just like anyone else's!
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Outstanding New Bike-Nerd Interweb Discovery
I have a new bike geek Web obsession.
It's called Disraeli Gears.
No, not the Cream album of the same name, although the site credits the story behind that album name. This is -- brace yourself -- an entire site devoted to one man's collection of rear derailleurs. But don't let the site's humble subtitle -- "A derailleur collection" -- fool you. This is no mere handful of common chain-movers. From old to new, bizarre to commonplace, there must be HUNDREDS of them in words and photos -- I tried to count and gave up. The site's author, Michael Sweatman, has a real passion for the rear derailleur and a true gift for turning phrases and telling stories. Sweatman pans one model by comparing the act of shifting it to "stirring porridge with a tennis racquet." Another model gets tongue-in-cheek praise for its urine-colored finish.
The gauntlet is thrown down on the site's home page. You know you aren't dealing with just another Campagnolo Nuovo Record fetish site (although Campyphiles will get their jollies here too) when the first image that confronts you is the absurdly wonderful three-pulley Suntour XC. The breadth of the collection is mind-blowing, from pull-chain plungers to the boat-anchor "Schwinn-Approved" Shimano GT100 knockoff of the Huret Allivit to the iconic Shimano M735 XT to a pink plastic Ofmega Mistral with matching pulleys. Even though the author is painfully aware of the aesthetic and technical shortcomings of many of these models, he seems to love them in spite of -- or sometimes because of -- their homeliness or clumsiness.
I think what I'm finding most endearing and enjoyable about the site (after reading everything from Altenburger to SunRun) is the voice behind it. This is no dry regurgitation of technical specs and model hierarchies. Sure, you'll get technical information along the way, but the technology just a framework for some entertaining writing. Take, for example, this laugh-out-loud introduction to the long-cage Dura Ace 7700 GS:
Finally Shimano gave in to the inevitability of having to sell its top-of-the-line groupset to fat middle-aged men who want low, low gears. The introduction of the Dura-Ace 7700 GS indicated that the portly wallets of portly gentlemen counted for more than the alluring image of speed, youth and fitness that Shimano had carefully cultured for Dura-Ace over two and a half decades. It was a triumph of beer-fueled reality over EPO-fueled fiction.
Outstanding.
So, if you think you know a lot about rear derailleurs, I dare you to get over to www.disraeligears.co.uk and see how many you recognize. I'd be willing to bet that even the most die-hard, Berto-worshipping, Sheldon-Brown-memorizing bike nerd will find at least ONE model they've never seen before, if not entire BRANDS that they've never heard of.
Don't believe me? Then how many different Chinese manufacturers of Shimano Tourney knock-offs can you name off the top of your head? And can you tell a LandRider Auto Shift from an AutoBike SmartShift 2000? And (warning, impending Beavis and Butthead moment), did you know that Shimano once made a not one but two styles of derailleur called the Pecker?
That's what I thought.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to finish reading Suntour to Zeus.
It's called Disraeli Gears.
No, not the Cream album of the same name, although the site credits the story behind that album name. This is -- brace yourself -- an entire site devoted to one man's collection of rear derailleurs. But don't let the site's humble subtitle -- "A derailleur collection" -- fool you. This is no mere handful of common chain-movers. From old to new, bizarre to commonplace, there must be HUNDREDS of them in words and photos -- I tried to count and gave up. The site's author, Michael Sweatman, has a real passion for the rear derailleur and a true gift for turning phrases and telling stories. Sweatman pans one model by comparing the act of shifting it to "stirring porridge with a tennis racquet." Another model gets tongue-in-cheek praise for its urine-colored finish.
The gauntlet is thrown down on the site's home page. You know you aren't dealing with just another Campagnolo Nuovo Record fetish site (although Campyphiles will get their jollies here too) when the first image that confronts you is the absurdly wonderful three-pulley Suntour XC. The breadth of the collection is mind-blowing, from pull-chain plungers to the boat-anchor "Schwinn-Approved" Shimano GT100 knockoff of the Huret Allivit to the iconic Shimano M735 XT to a pink plastic Ofmega Mistral with matching pulleys. Even though the author is painfully aware of the aesthetic and technical shortcomings of many of these models, he seems to love them in spite of -- or sometimes because of -- their homeliness or clumsiness.
I think what I'm finding most endearing and enjoyable about the site (after reading everything from Altenburger to SunRun) is the voice behind it. This is no dry regurgitation of technical specs and model hierarchies. Sure, you'll get technical information along the way, but the technology just a framework for some entertaining writing. Take, for example, this laugh-out-loud introduction to the long-cage Dura Ace 7700 GS:
Finally Shimano gave in to the inevitability of having to sell its top-of-the-line groupset to fat middle-aged men who want low, low gears. The introduction of the Dura-Ace 7700 GS indicated that the portly wallets of portly gentlemen counted for more than the alluring image of speed, youth and fitness that Shimano had carefully cultured for Dura-Ace over two and a half decades. It was a triumph of beer-fueled reality over EPO-fueled fiction.
Outstanding.
So, if you think you know a lot about rear derailleurs, I dare you to get over to www.disraeligears.co.uk and see how many you recognize. I'd be willing to bet that even the most die-hard, Berto-worshipping, Sheldon-Brown-memorizing bike nerd will find at least ONE model they've never seen before, if not entire BRANDS that they've never heard of.
Don't believe me? Then how many different Chinese manufacturers of Shimano Tourney knock-offs can you name off the top of your head? And can you tell a LandRider Auto Shift from an AutoBike SmartShift 2000? And (warning, impending Beavis and Butthead moment), did you know that Shimano once made a not one but two styles of derailleur called the Pecker?
That's what I thought.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to finish reading Suntour to Zeus.
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