Place yer bets! Place yer bets!
Actually, don't bother. As any regular reader of this blog will already know, my hubris loses to gravity every time. I may spout off about how to ride in winter, but I still learn the hard way every time.
Case in point: Last Thursday, we got a freak evening commute blizzard. Totally out of nowhere. I had the right bike and tires, but hadn't layered for 30-40mph winds blowing snow in my face. So, letting discretion be the better part of not losing a nose (or -- shudder -- other protuberance) to frostbite, I called The Best Wife Ever for a pick up in the four-wheeled vehicle. Of course, traffic getting out of the bustling metropolis of Des Moines was snarled beyond recognition thanks to the unexpected weather, so it took us 40 minutes to cover a mile -- or as Chicagoans call it, Tuesday. Adding even more insult, we were passed by a guy on a bike about a block from our house. Being thusly shamed, I knew immediately that I would be riding the bike to work on Friday, dammit.
Friday morning, the sun was shining, and all seemed right with the world. I layered properly for a change and headed out. Short, steep, icy hill out of my driveway? No worries. Just used those weight distribution tips from the link above. Ice rink at the end of my street? Pshaw! I'm an expert, remember?
Then I made the turn onto the major street at the end of my block and headed downhill both literally and figuratively. All was going just hunky and dory until my speed started to build up and I hit a badly pockmarked patch of ice... which set off a bit of a tank-slapper... which dumped me hard on my left side so fast, I think my legs were still stupidly trying to pedal as I skidded down the street like a fat, flailing hockey puck. Thankfully, the car behind me was giving me a lot of room (I think she assumed -- correctly -- that I might be insane).
I managed to pick myself up, but somehow, the force of the fall had knocked my chain off the chainring (which I expected) and wedged both chain and rear derailleur behind the largest rear cog in the back (huh, didn't see that coming). All I could do was throw the bike on my shoulder and scamper across three lanes of traffic to the sidewalk, where I faced the classic dilemma: Try to fix this thing, or just go home (a home I could still see from where I'd crashed) and say "screw it." More stubborn than smart as always, I wrestled the drivetrain back to a functional state and pedaled on in my sopping wet jeans.
It really wasn't a bad crash, though sitting motionless at a desk for eight hours afterwards didn't do me any favors. By the end of the workday, I was as stiff as first-generation Cannondale.
So let this be a lesson to you, kids (or geezers who should know better): Always bet on gravity.
Monday, January 20, 2014
Monday, January 13, 2014
Off The Back Isn't So Bad
There's been much to-do in the real cycling press lately about SRAM's quasi-aborted attempt at hydraulic brakes (both disc and rim) for road and 'cross bikes. First they were an amazing leap forward that was going to change everything. Then all of a sudden, they were all recalled (the seals apparently couldn't hack it in the cold), and SRAM was rushing to provide cable-actuated replacements, including an all-hands-on-deck effort at the U.S. 'cross nationals to get racers switched over from the now-unsafe-at-any-speed hydraulics.
As a raving Luddite, this is probably where I should bask in the smug glory of schadenfreude, flaunting the impressive service record and low failure rate of 1890s penny-farthing spoon brakes. But I won't. After all, it's not like hydraulic bicycle brakes are anything new. I learned to bleed Magura rim hydraulics in 1999 and they weren't new then. Hydraulic discs are old hat among mountain bikers, about as proven as a technology can be. Sometimes, there's an easy "new stuff bad, old stuff good" angle, but not this time.
The lesson I take from SRAM's road hydraulics (besides another example of The Kryptonite PR Principle) is this: The best place to be on the bike-tech spectrum is just a couple steps back from the bleeding (no hydraulic pun intended) edge. Unless you're a sponsored pro, skip the just-released Skunk Works stuff and stick with Ultegra (not trying to favor Shimano here -- just flinging out an example of a reliable second-tier group). At that level, what you're really buying is the cutting edge from about two years ago, stuff that's still high-performance but has been worked over by ordinary folks who pay their own way, not just racers who have a staff of professional mechanics and a bottomless pile of replacements. The bad ideas have already shaken out, because at the volume those parts sell, a mistake (and recall) would be a disaster.
Based on SRAM's track record, I'm sure they'll wind up with a good product. Shimano will then figure out how to shoehorn a master cylinder into an STI lever and pair it up with their already-tested MTB discs. And finally, Campy will come out with a Super-Duper-Record full-hydraulic setup that uses the sweat of Eddy Merckx as fluid. Road Freds the world over will embrace hydraulics, and this whole kerfuffle will be forgotten.
Me? Call me when the technology trickles down (again, no hydraulic pun intended) to Tiagra. Then I'll trust it.
As a raving Luddite, this is probably where I should bask in the smug glory of schadenfreude, flaunting the impressive service record and low failure rate of 1890s penny-farthing spoon brakes. But I won't. After all, it's not like hydraulic bicycle brakes are anything new. I learned to bleed Magura rim hydraulics in 1999 and they weren't new then. Hydraulic discs are old hat among mountain bikers, about as proven as a technology can be. Sometimes, there's an easy "new stuff bad, old stuff good" angle, but not this time.
The lesson I take from SRAM's road hydraulics (besides another example of The Kryptonite PR Principle) is this: The best place to be on the bike-tech spectrum is just a couple steps back from the bleeding (no hydraulic pun intended) edge. Unless you're a sponsored pro, skip the just-released Skunk Works stuff and stick with Ultegra (not trying to favor Shimano here -- just flinging out an example of a reliable second-tier group). At that level, what you're really buying is the cutting edge from about two years ago, stuff that's still high-performance but has been worked over by ordinary folks who pay their own way, not just racers who have a staff of professional mechanics and a bottomless pile of replacements. The bad ideas have already shaken out, because at the volume those parts sell, a mistake (and recall) would be a disaster.
Based on SRAM's track record, I'm sure they'll wind up with a good product. Shimano will then figure out how to shoehorn a master cylinder into an STI lever and pair it up with their already-tested MTB discs. And finally, Campy will come out with a Super-Duper-Record full-hydraulic setup that uses the sweat of Eddy Merckx as fluid. Road Freds the world over will embrace hydraulics, and this whole kerfuffle will be forgotten.
Me? Call me when the technology trickles down (again, no hydraulic pun intended) to Tiagra. Then I'll trust it.
Sunday, January 12, 2014
2014 Started, And I Almost Missed It
Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. Believe me, I've been hearing it from Sarcasmo the Wonder Wife: "That guy at The Cycle hasn't blogged in FOREVER!"
So, here's your reward/punishment: The annual January cliche "I'm a fat man, and here are some things I'll pretend I'm going to do in the next year to become a less-fat man" post.
My incentive? I'm now 41 years old. My dad was 44 when he had his first heart attack. From that day on, he lived looking over his shoulder, afraid that The Big One was sneaking up on him. It caught up ten years later, when he was only 54, long before he had a chance to walk my sister down the aisle or meet his grandsons. That, my friends, is no way to go.
I certainly don't want to turn this blog into one of those self-indulgent "my fitness and health journey" things. That's been done, and done way better than I could hope to do it. But in the hope of publicly shaming myself into better habits, I will be checking in from time to time with some vital stats, namely 200 pounds, and a paltry 85 miles logged on the indoor hamster wheel (no cyclometer on the commuter bike, but when the commute is a mile each way, it doesn't add up fast).
The other plus of getting healthier and living longer? More time to torment Sarcasmo with my attempts at humor. You're welcome, dear.
So, here's your reward/punishment: The annual January cliche "I'm a fat man, and here are some things I'll pretend I'm going to do in the next year to become a less-fat man" post.
My incentive? I'm now 41 years old. My dad was 44 when he had his first heart attack. From that day on, he lived looking over his shoulder, afraid that The Big One was sneaking up on him. It caught up ten years later, when he was only 54, long before he had a chance to walk my sister down the aisle or meet his grandsons. That, my friends, is no way to go.
I certainly don't want to turn this blog into one of those self-indulgent "my fitness and health journey" things. That's been done, and done way better than I could hope to do it. But in the hope of publicly shaming myself into better habits, I will be checking in from time to time with some vital stats, namely 200 pounds, and a paltry 85 miles logged on the indoor hamster wheel (no cyclometer on the commuter bike, but when the commute is a mile each way, it doesn't add up fast).
The other plus of getting healthier and living longer? More time to torment Sarcasmo with my attempts at humor. You're welcome, dear.
Saturday, December 7, 2013
Tried & Liked 2013: Getting Underfoot
I can't remember if I got these in 2013, but I'm pretty sure this was my first full season on them, plus I never got around to a promised long-term review, and hey, it's my blog so I can make up the rules as I go:
I first tried the Crank Brothers Candy in a desperate attempt to find something that felt like my old crash-wrecked Time ATACs without the expense. After about 2,000 miles, I can now say that this pedal is a (qualified) success in that role.
The best thing about the Candy is its float and ease of entry/release. The "wire loop" retention (like Time's) allows my whole foot to move laterally in addition to the wide rotational float. For someone with wonky knees, it's heaven. I didn't know just how good it was until I recently tried Shimano SPDs again and felt like I'd been taped to the pedals, Dave Stohler-style. I think these may even be floatier than my old ATACs. On paper, they probably don't float as much as Speedplay Frogs, but since Frogs lack that lateral component, I actually prefer the Crank Bros.
The release is laughably easy, enough that these probably aren't for crazy aggressive riders. I've never popped out unintentionally, but I also don't go for flailing sprints or wacky offroad stunts. If you know you like a pedal that hangs on tight, these aren't for you, especially since there's no adjustment to the spring retention. It is what it is, and you aren't going to change it.
The knock on Crank Brothers pedals has always been durability, though. And while I haven't been able to kill the pedals themselves (which continue to spin like new despite a lot of miles in not-so-wonderful conditions), the "qualified" parenthetical above has to do with cleat wear. The cleats claim to be brass, but I suspect they're carved from butter (and this is Iowa, where we know butter sculpture). My Time cleats (also brass) lasted several years before they were even close to needing replacement, while I've been through two sets of "premium" Crank Brothers cleats in one season. I've also needed a set of Crank Brothers "shoe shields" (stainless plates that go between the cleat and your shoe) to keep my shoes from getting notched by the pedals, though it looks like those will outlast several more pairs of cleats.
Still, because of that lovely float, I'll keep putting up with the cleat expense. Sure, one pair of Candys and three sets of cleats would have bought me a new set of ATACs -- but keep in mind, like any good bike geek, I'm outfitting a fleet. If I don't clip in on the tandem, Quadzilla the Stokemonster will yank the pedals right out from under me. So, despite the cleats, I'm giving the Crank Brothers Candy 1 my coveted Hail to the Cheap award for bike stuff that punches above its weight class. If they can toughen up those cleats without making them more expensive, they could have an unqualified winner.
(The usual disclaimer: I buy my pedals with my own pennies, and was not plied with cash, free product, or sandwiches for this review. If you buy some via that Amazon link, I make a tiny cut. And as Steve of Peoria will likely mention in a comment, I'm exceedingly fickle about pedals, so I've probably contradicted myself on the topic multiple times throughout the life of this blog -- and will do so many more times. Which is to say this review is worth precisely what you paid for it.)
The best thing about the Candy is its float and ease of entry/release. The "wire loop" retention (like Time's) allows my whole foot to move laterally in addition to the wide rotational float. For someone with wonky knees, it's heaven. I didn't know just how good it was until I recently tried Shimano SPDs again and felt like I'd been taped to the pedals, Dave Stohler-style. I think these may even be floatier than my old ATACs. On paper, they probably don't float as much as Speedplay Frogs, but since Frogs lack that lateral component, I actually prefer the Crank Bros.
The release is laughably easy, enough that these probably aren't for crazy aggressive riders. I've never popped out unintentionally, but I also don't go for flailing sprints or wacky offroad stunts. If you know you like a pedal that hangs on tight, these aren't for you, especially since there's no adjustment to the spring retention. It is what it is, and you aren't going to change it.
The knock on Crank Brothers pedals has always been durability, though. And while I haven't been able to kill the pedals themselves (which continue to spin like new despite a lot of miles in not-so-wonderful conditions), the "qualified" parenthetical above has to do with cleat wear. The cleats claim to be brass, but I suspect they're carved from butter (and this is Iowa, where we know butter sculpture). My Time cleats (also brass) lasted several years before they were even close to needing replacement, while I've been through two sets of "premium" Crank Brothers cleats in one season. I've also needed a set of Crank Brothers "shoe shields" (stainless plates that go between the cleat and your shoe) to keep my shoes from getting notched by the pedals, though it looks like those will outlast several more pairs of cleats.
Still, because of that lovely float, I'll keep putting up with the cleat expense. Sure, one pair of Candys and three sets of cleats would have bought me a new set of ATACs -- but keep in mind, like any good bike geek, I'm outfitting a fleet. If I don't clip in on the tandem, Quadzilla the Stokemonster will yank the pedals right out from under me. So, despite the cleats, I'm giving the Crank Brothers Candy 1 my coveted Hail to the Cheap award for bike stuff that punches above its weight class. If they can toughen up those cleats without making them more expensive, they could have an unqualified winner.
(The usual disclaimer: I buy my pedals with my own pennies, and was not plied with cash, free product, or sandwiches for this review. If you buy some via that Amazon link, I make a tiny cut. And as Steve of Peoria will likely mention in a comment, I'm exceedingly fickle about pedals, so I've probably contradicted myself on the topic multiple times throughout the life of this blog -- and will do so many more times. Which is to say this review is worth precisely what you paid for it.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)