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.)
Monday, May 25, 2009
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Rookie Mistake
This just in... mechanic defeated by his own hubris.
I'd pulled off a pretty slick repair on our tandem so it would be ready for the farmers' market yesterday. I was feeling pretty good about myself. There was even some mention of my candidacy for the coveted Greatest Living Bicycle Mechanic in Central Iowa title.
Not so fast, slick.
I've been chasing a creak around my main ride, eliminating possible causes through a slow diagnostic process. Today, I had enough time to pull the cranks and bottom bracket. The plan was to grease the shoulders of the bottom bracket cartridge where they sit in the cups and wrap the cup threads with Teflon plumber's tape. It's an old trick from my days as a Cannondale mechanic, since a dry BB install would invariable make a small creak that would resonate through those big aluminum tubes until it sounded like a door opening in a horror movie.
That was the plan, anyway. And it worked for a while. I got everything out, cleaned it all up, greased up the cartridge, wrapped up the cups, and got the right side cup back in the frame, straight out of Sutherlands.
So, I started the left cup. And it felt a little snug. Before you ask, yes, I did know which cup had left-handed threads. Straight out of Sutherlands, remember?
"No biggie," I figured. "The Teflon tape makes it tight." So I kept cranking.
And it got even more snug. "Man, I must have put too much tape on that thing," I figured. So I grabbed a bigger adjustable wrench, clamped that bad boy on my BB tool and kept cranking.
It got even more snug. I could barely budge the thing, and it was barely a third of the way in. Only then did Mr. Fixit think, "Huh, that doesn't seem right." So I started backing it out again.
Cross-threaded. The aluminum cup was absolutely shredded where I'd ham-fisted it sideways into the steel bottom bracket shell. This is a family blog, so let's take the "edited for TV version of Snakes on a Plane" approach and pretend that I said, "I'm such a monkey-fighting idiot, cross-threading this Monday-Friday bottom bracket."
Proof that someone or something up there is looking out for morons and klutzes, at least it was an aluminum cup that sacrificed its life for the steel bottom bracket shell. If I'd needed the BB threads chased late on the Sunday of Memorial Day weekend, I would have been stuck. And I made a decent save by pulling a cup out of my fixie that just happened to fit despite being an entirely different brand of cartridge bottom bracket. So, the fixie's down until I replace the cup, but at least my daily driver is going again.
I'd pulled off a pretty slick repair on our tandem so it would be ready for the farmers' market yesterday. I was feeling pretty good about myself. There was even some mention of my candidacy for the coveted Greatest Living Bicycle Mechanic in Central Iowa title.
Not so fast, slick.
I've been chasing a creak around my main ride, eliminating possible causes through a slow diagnostic process. Today, I had enough time to pull the cranks and bottom bracket. The plan was to grease the shoulders of the bottom bracket cartridge where they sit in the cups and wrap the cup threads with Teflon plumber's tape. It's an old trick from my days as a Cannondale mechanic, since a dry BB install would invariable make a small creak that would resonate through those big aluminum tubes until it sounded like a door opening in a horror movie.
That was the plan, anyway. And it worked for a while. I got everything out, cleaned it all up, greased up the cartridge, wrapped up the cups, and got the right side cup back in the frame, straight out of Sutherlands.
So, I started the left cup. And it felt a little snug. Before you ask, yes, I did know which cup had left-handed threads. Straight out of Sutherlands, remember?
"No biggie," I figured. "The Teflon tape makes it tight." So I kept cranking.
And it got even more snug. "Man, I must have put too much tape on that thing," I figured. So I grabbed a bigger adjustable wrench, clamped that bad boy on my BB tool and kept cranking.
It got even more snug. I could barely budge the thing, and it was barely a third of the way in. Only then did Mr. Fixit think, "Huh, that doesn't seem right." So I started backing it out again.
Cross-threaded. The aluminum cup was absolutely shredded where I'd ham-fisted it sideways into the steel bottom bracket shell. This is a family blog, so let's take the "edited for TV version of Snakes on a Plane" approach and pretend that I said, "I'm such a monkey-fighting idiot, cross-threading this Monday-Friday bottom bracket."
Proof that someone or something up there is looking out for morons and klutzes, at least it was an aluminum cup that sacrificed its life for the steel bottom bracket shell. If I'd needed the BB threads chased late on the Sunday of Memorial Day weekend, I would have been stuck. And I made a decent save by pulling a cup out of my fixie that just happened to fit despite being an entirely different brand of cartridge bottom bracket. So, the fixie's down until I replace the cup, but at least my daily driver is going again.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Shh... We're Having A Ride Of Silence
Carla and I took the tandem to the local Ride of Silence Wednesday night. It was a first for both of us.
I'm not much for bike "advocacy" (hence the scare quotes I insist on putting around the word). Do I believe that bikers have a place on the road? Sure. Do I believe that drivers should refrain from putting tire marks across a biker's back whenever possible? Well, of course. But I always have misgivings about some kind of organized "consciousness-raising" event that's supposed to deal with these issues. I'd rather see lots of bikers just get out on the roads and ride their bikes every day. Still, friends had told me that the R of S is a pretty moving experience, and I'm always up for a tandem ride, so we went.
Slight problem, though. The combination of no police escort (other than the lone representative of Des Moines' finest who bullhorn-shouted at us to quit congregating in the road pre-ride) and a ride leadership that seemed a little paranoid about the perception of bikers as stoplight-blowing scofflaws (thus, we were instructed NOT to cork intersections) kind of killed the experience for me. A big, silent, unified group of riders? That's a statement. Dozens of tiny pockets of silent riders getting stuck at stoplights, leapfrogging into and out of clusters, and getting strung out all over town? That's just a bunch of people on bikes who happen to be kind of quiet.
Getting a tandem going at a few dozen stoplights is kind of a chore, too -- sort of like a Mack truck working its way up through the gearbox. And, note to the racer dude in the all-matching-and-matched-to-the-color-scheme-of-his-bike kit who insisted on track-standing every intersection: One, nobody was impressed, and two, the Freddy Kruger nails-on-a-chalkboard sound of your brakes as you repeatedly demonstrated this non-impressive maneuver was NOT what I'd call "silent". (An admission that reveals my dark, twisted, gnarled inner self: I was secretly hoping he'd flub one and fall over, the way that I secretly hope kids on those stupid roller-skate-heel shoes will fall on their butts as they glide through the grocery store.)
Still, I got to spend some quality time with my better half on our two-seater, I got to see the whole Anderson Convoy (Tom and Holly on their tandem with the twins on their singles), I finally got to meet C's bikey knitting pal Jess, I got to check out Former Neighbor Steve's swanky new monster-cross gravel rig, and there were moments that I kind of felt what the event was supposed to be about. Maybe it wasn't a "powerful experience of cycling solidarity", but it was a good ride... and there's nothing wrong with that.
I'm not much for bike "advocacy" (hence the scare quotes I insist on putting around the word). Do I believe that bikers have a place on the road? Sure. Do I believe that drivers should refrain from putting tire marks across a biker's back whenever possible? Well, of course. But I always have misgivings about some kind of organized "consciousness-raising" event that's supposed to deal with these issues. I'd rather see lots of bikers just get out on the roads and ride their bikes every day. Still, friends had told me that the R of S is a pretty moving experience, and I'm always up for a tandem ride, so we went.
Slight problem, though. The combination of no police escort (other than the lone representative of Des Moines' finest who bullhorn-shouted at us to quit congregating in the road pre-ride) and a ride leadership that seemed a little paranoid about the perception of bikers as stoplight-blowing scofflaws (thus, we were instructed NOT to cork intersections) kind of killed the experience for me. A big, silent, unified group of riders? That's a statement. Dozens of tiny pockets of silent riders getting stuck at stoplights, leapfrogging into and out of clusters, and getting strung out all over town? That's just a bunch of people on bikes who happen to be kind of quiet.
Getting a tandem going at a few dozen stoplights is kind of a chore, too -- sort of like a Mack truck working its way up through the gearbox. And, note to the racer dude in the all-matching-and-matched-to-the-color-scheme-of-his-bike kit who insisted on track-standing every intersection: One, nobody was impressed, and two, the Freddy Kruger nails-on-a-chalkboard sound of your brakes as you repeatedly demonstrated this non-impressive maneuver was NOT what I'd call "silent". (An admission that reveals my dark, twisted, gnarled inner self: I was secretly hoping he'd flub one and fall over, the way that I secretly hope kids on those stupid roller-skate-heel shoes will fall on their butts as they glide through the grocery store.)
Still, I got to spend some quality time with my better half on our two-seater, I got to see the whole Anderson Convoy (Tom and Holly on their tandem with the twins on their singles), I finally got to meet C's bikey knitting pal Jess, I got to check out Former Neighbor Steve's swanky new monster-cross gravel rig, and there were moments that I kind of felt what the event was supposed to be about. Maybe it wasn't a "powerful experience of cycling solidarity", but it was a good ride... and there's nothing wrong with that.
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?
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