Retro Raliegh Update: Weight Weenie Bug Strikes

Just as my own weight balloons up to a whopping [REDACTED], I'm getting uncontrollable weight weenie urges on the new/old Raleigh International hanging from the workstand.
Regular readers may recall my initial intention to do a path racer build with a flip-flop drivetrain, two brakes, luggage, and steel fenders. I started down that path, but made the mistake of taking it down out of the stand to torque the crank bolts when it was a chain short of being completely built. Dang, that thing felt light! Then I recalled the International owned by the late, great Sheldon Brown (similar vintage, same size, and even the same color) that he'd once built into a fixed gear described as, "well under 20 lbs."

At that point, the hook was set. I stripped the rear brake and freewheel off, cast aside thoughts of big bags and chromed steel fenders, and started thinking light. I know, I'm hopelessly behind the times -- in the age of "sub-15" road racers, "sub-20" seems to be a descriptor saved for mountain bikes. But I've never owned a sub-20 bike of any sort, and only ridden them on brief test spins in my shop days. The thought of attacking (as much as my corpulent arse can attack anything) a hill on a fixie that feels like I could pick it up with my pinkie? Too good to pass up.

I'm still keeping it built smart, with the Redline's old 36/36 wheelset and (folding) 700x35 tires, but it won't feature any luxury items -- the Gordon can keep all the cupholders, seat heaters, map lights, and OnStar. And I'm not pursuing weight weeniedom to the depths of titanium toeclip bolts or Swiss-cheesed components. I'm not actively trying to make it light -- I'm just not actively trying to make it heavy, either.

The build is almost done -- with a chain, I could ride it today, but my guess is that it wouldn't be terribly comfortable. I took some measurements and realized that my stubby T-rex arms probably won't make it to the bars without a stem that has less extension and more quill. I'm pretty accustomed to that... everything else in the stable has an upjutting 8 cm stem, so why would this be any different? I'm also undecided on bars/brake levers, but I have enough spare parts in the pile to experiment.

Of course, the weather taunted me with a dusting of fresh snow yesterday, and I'm sure we'll get the traditional state basketball tournament blizzard in March, so this fair-weather bike is still something of an academic exercise.

Tiny Picture Of A Tiny Dude

Meet Jackson Todd, micro-nephew extraordinaire. He's now breathing regular old room air without a respirator like a champ. Plus, he likes to chug a bottle then nap for the rest of the day -- just like his uncle!

I'm hoping to see him (and elder brother Wilson, of course) in person in a couple weeks. Fingers crossed that he'll be home by then...

Bursting The Bubble

Local news reports that the Iowa legislature is trying to make our streets safer for bicycles with a "five foot bubble" law. In short, motorists would be forced to give cyclists a five foot berth when passing or face a "misdemeanor fine of up to $35" which would "grow to $1,000 if the driver kills someone."

Huh. I feel safer already. Up to $35 for a brush-back, and a whopping four figures if I'm actually snuffed out. I'm sure my widow will applaud the courage of the Iowa legislature for that one.

And assuming this genius piece of legislation gets signed, does anyone really expect a police officer to actually pull someone over and levy that "up to $35" fine when someone penetrates my five foot bubble? I would need my own police escort through downtown to pull over... well, just about every car in sight.

I credit our lawmakers for having their hearts in the right place, but the bubble concept just seems misguided. Here's my proposal instead: Enforce the laws that already exist. The vehicular code says I'm just that -- a vehicle, with all the rights and responsibilities that entails. Force car drivers to treat me as such, and fine them when they don't. Get too close? Knock me over because you're too busy text messaging? That's not an "oopsie." That's reckless driving. And -- heaven forbid -- if you kill me, that's vehicular manslaughter, plain and simple.

If I wanted to be in a bubble, I'd drive a car.

Mission: Make Nephew A Bike Mechanic

This is, at its core, a self-serving mission, as I just want someone in the family who can get me parts at cost in my old age. I don't miss the wages of bike shop work, but man, how I do miss thumbing through that Quality Bicycle Parts catalog (the "behind the counter" copy with wholesale pricing in it) to see just how much I could buy if I had actual wages.

(Secretly, I hope that by the time young Wilson can take up the wrench, our dependence on the car will have finally imploded, the bicycle will be seen as a viable -- nay, vital -- mode of transportation, and a good bike mechanic will be respected and paid like a surgeon... or at least a plumber. Uh huh. Right.)

But Grandma Nancy tells me stories of the little dude that make me think he has the soul of a mechanic, even before he's cracked the ripe old age of two. For example:

• His favorite sentence is, "What's that?" A thirst for new information? Check!
• Much to Grandma Nancy's chagrin (because she saw these often-maddening tendencies some 30-plus years ago in yours truly), he likes to take things apart and (usually) put them back together. Heck, I watched him learn how to deal with Legos in nothing flat. Mechanical aptitude? Check!
• Another sentence in his limited verbal arsenal is, "Is this it?" As in, he tries to put something together, holds up the attempt to a nearby tall person, and asks, "Is this it?" If the answer's no, he tries again. Willingness to learn and persistence? Check!

(He's also quite good with the word "hot" -- so maybe he'll be a framebuilder too, since he already understands the key feature of a welding torch.)

I have to confess, I wasn't the first person to come up with this idea. Local pal Tom A. (who's going into my blogroll ASAP) has already started turning his twin girls into a two-headed mechanical juggernaut. But I may be the first to apply the "Chinese gymnast" approach and start a training regime on a toddler. Hey, mechanics are going to be in demand in my delusional utopia, so there's no time to waste.