I walked into the bike shop today, for the first time since I'd left last fall.
It all began earlier in the day, while I was on errands elsewhere in the neighborhood.
I ran into a former co-worker who had switched jobs shortly after I'd left; he told me that things had changed a bit, that a bunch of new people (including several apprentices) were hired and that another co-worker Iw as on friendly terms with had just gotten engaged.
More significantly, the fellow whose actions had been the primary impetus for my sudden departure was not working there now. He was on some vague kind of long-term leave of absence and it was unclear whether he would return to the shop at all.
So I went in.
My co-worker happily showed me her engagement ring and promised to let me know when a date for the wedding was chosen. Another co-worker who'd had some health issues looked a whole lot better now, twenty pounds lighter and with good color in his cheeks. And the shop looked pretty much the same, with only a handful of new store fixtures added here and there. I wandered around, chatted for several minutes with folks, and left.
It had felt, well, mostly okay. Sort of empty in moments. I heard some sad things about the co-worker on indefinite leave; that he'd had some real issues since my departure and had grown less communicative and more unhappy in general. I don't know if he will return to work. I am surprised to find that I don't actually care a whole lot either way. I doubt I'll go back any time soon. I alternated between moments of familiarity and moments of feeling almost nothing.
I'm glad I went in, and don't feel any real need to return. There are at least half a dozen bike shops closer to where I live and a couple where I feel completely and genuinely welcome and now do most of my bike-related shopping. It's all good.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
pure wrenching, part four: last dance
The last bike tune-up of the spring was the most satisfying.
A Gary Fisher ATB that had been city-fied with street tires and a more upright stem -- but still rocking a Rock Shox fork that weighed about as much as a small anchor. The bike is ridden almost daily during the spring and summer, and perhaps once or twice a week during the rainy season.
Owner is one of my bosses at the LRS (Large Reform Synagogue).
I last tuned this bike a year ago, at Citybikes when I still worked there. At the time I made a careful list of things to keep an eye on and things that would probably need replacing soon. B kept the list and, with additional instructions from me ("have the shop look at your drive train so they know what cassette and chain to sell you") bought the parts in advance, to drop off with the bike. He brought it by yesterday afternoon.
In addition to basics like a new chain and cassette cogs, the bike was also scheduled to get a lighter rigid fork swapped in for the shock fork. I had given B the dimensions of the fork he needed to buy, and he'd found a used one.
Sadly, the fork the shop had sold him was incorrect; there were no canti bosses, or even a disc brake platform; and it turned out to be for a 700c-wheeled touring bike. Knowing that my schedule was tight -- this was to be my last tune-up of the spring -- I called UpCycles, the bike shop closes to my house, and asked if they had a used fork of the correct dimensions. They did, and I sent B over to buy it. He returned with an aluminum rigid fork.
Sigh.
I'm not a fan of aluminum forks or frames. They fail with far less warning than steel, and the ride is stiff and unforgiving for all but the heaviest riders. But it was only ten bucks and it solved the problem at hand. So I shrugged, smiled, and said, "this'll work just fine."
B went away happy.
Today, I did the work. I had to partially dismantle the shock fork to get the crown race off (for installation on the replacement fork). I broke a tool in the process (don't ask) and it scraped an ugly little gash across one knee. Finally, I got the damned thing free and installed it on the replacement fork. Pieces of the dead shock fork lay strewn about the shed as I moved on.
The wheels were in surprisingly great shape for how hard they'd been ridden. I figure they're good for another year at least, before the rear rim begins to go concave.
Everything seemed fine and straightforward -- until I installed the new cassette and chain, and tried to shift.
Idiots. The people at the shop had sold B the wrong size cassette for the length of derailleur cage he had. His derailleur wouldn't wrap the largest number of cogs. Crap. I decided to simply replace his derailleur and offer him some trade-in for it against the one from my stash. It worked like a charm, and I can always use his old derailleur on another project.
Finally, I had to locate the source of an annoying creak somewhere at the stem or in the headset. I'd overhauled the headset already on the bike, and it seemed fine. Finally, I realized the creak came from the old adjustable stem, frozen into the tallest possible adjustment and rusted in place. I pulled it apart, greased the contact points, and reassembled it. Creak mostly gone; I figured the grease would work its way into the farthest recesses with riding.
B picked up the bike tonight and is thrilled with how nicely it rides. I was thrilled at how thrilled he was. Another happy bike under a happier rider.
Done now. I've earned enough to eat on for the whole month of June with these tune-ups, plus a little left over to cover a couple of utility bills. All good. Now to wipe off the grease and lock the tools away until July.
See ya.
A Gary Fisher ATB that had been city-fied with street tires and a more upright stem -- but still rocking a Rock Shox fork that weighed about as much as a small anchor. The bike is ridden almost daily during the spring and summer, and perhaps once or twice a week during the rainy season.
Owner is one of my bosses at the LRS (Large Reform Synagogue).
I last tuned this bike a year ago, at Citybikes when I still worked there. At the time I made a careful list of things to keep an eye on and things that would probably need replacing soon. B kept the list and, with additional instructions from me ("have the shop look at your drive train so they know what cassette and chain to sell you") bought the parts in advance, to drop off with the bike. He brought it by yesterday afternoon.
In addition to basics like a new chain and cassette cogs, the bike was also scheduled to get a lighter rigid fork swapped in for the shock fork. I had given B the dimensions of the fork he needed to buy, and he'd found a used one.
Sadly, the fork the shop had sold him was incorrect; there were no canti bosses, or even a disc brake platform; and it turned out to be for a 700c-wheeled touring bike. Knowing that my schedule was tight -- this was to be my last tune-up of the spring -- I called UpCycles, the bike shop closes to my house, and asked if they had a used fork of the correct dimensions. They did, and I sent B over to buy it. He returned with an aluminum rigid fork.
Sigh.
I'm not a fan of aluminum forks or frames. They fail with far less warning than steel, and the ride is stiff and unforgiving for all but the heaviest riders. But it was only ten bucks and it solved the problem at hand. So I shrugged, smiled, and said, "this'll work just fine."
B went away happy.
Today, I did the work. I had to partially dismantle the shock fork to get the crown race off (for installation on the replacement fork). I broke a tool in the process (don't ask) and it scraped an ugly little gash across one knee. Finally, I got the damned thing free and installed it on the replacement fork. Pieces of the dead shock fork lay strewn about the shed as I moved on.
The wheels were in surprisingly great shape for how hard they'd been ridden. I figure they're good for another year at least, before the rear rim begins to go concave.
Everything seemed fine and straightforward -- until I installed the new cassette and chain, and tried to shift.
Idiots. The people at the shop had sold B the wrong size cassette for the length of derailleur cage he had. His derailleur wouldn't wrap the largest number of cogs. Crap. I decided to simply replace his derailleur and offer him some trade-in for it against the one from my stash. It worked like a charm, and I can always use his old derailleur on another project.
Finally, I had to locate the source of an annoying creak somewhere at the stem or in the headset. I'd overhauled the headset already on the bike, and it seemed fine. Finally, I realized the creak came from the old adjustable stem, frozen into the tallest possible adjustment and rusted in place. I pulled it apart, greased the contact points, and reassembled it. Creak mostly gone; I figured the grease would work its way into the farthest recesses with riding.
B picked up the bike tonight and is thrilled with how nicely it rides. I was thrilled at how thrilled he was. Another happy bike under a happier rider.
Done now. I've earned enough to eat on for the whole month of June with these tune-ups, plus a little left over to cover a couple of utility bills. All good. Now to wipe off the grease and lock the tools away until July.
See ya.
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Ten Miles album project update
AN UPDATE:
1. Tonight the campaign is halfway through. There are just 20 days left to hop on the cargo bike and participate in the Ten Miles project. If you haven't signed up yet there is still time to hop on: http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/ten-miles-jewish-music-for-the-rest-of-us/x/1531892/
2. If you'll be in Portland on May 9, NOW is the time to RSVP to the awesome folks over at Willow Cottage and let them know you'll be coming to a house concert featuring my music. RSVP'g is what your mother would want you to do. It lets the hosts know how much food and drink to have on hand. So please be nice and RSVP now over at: https://www.facebook.com/events/273613292774049/?ref=22
3. I have a very busy May on tap. I'll be providing music for multiple services at Congregation Beth Israel and Havurah Shalom in Portland and Temple Beth Sholom in Salem; and playing a special show at World Cup Coffee on the 19th to wrap up the IndieGogo campaign and look ahead.
I'll also be meeting with some of my backup musicians in later May to run through music, try out some cool things and prepare for full-ensemble rehearsals in the summer. Looking farther ahead, I've lined up summer shows at World Cup and Beaterville Cafe! For a full schedule, check out my Reverb:
http://www.reverbnation.com/bethhamon
And above all, thanks SO much for your support during this campaign and through a year so amazing that I could not have made it up if I tried. You are why I make music and without you there is simply no point. I remain continually grateful.
1. Tonight the campaign is halfway through. There are just 20 days left to hop on the cargo bike and participate in the Ten Miles project. If you haven't signed up yet there is still time to hop on: http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/ten-miles-jewish-music-for-the-rest-of-us/x/1531892/
2. If you'll be in Portland on May 9, NOW is the time to RSVP to the awesome folks over at Willow Cottage and let them know you'll be coming to a house concert featuring my music. RSVP'g is what your mother would want you to do. It lets the hosts know how much food and drink to have on hand. So please be nice and RSVP now over at: https://www.facebook.com/events/273613292774049/?ref=22
3. I have a very busy May on tap. I'll be providing music for multiple services at Congregation Beth Israel and Havurah Shalom in Portland and Temple Beth Sholom in Salem; and playing a special show at World Cup Coffee on the 19th to wrap up the IndieGogo campaign and look ahead.
I'll also be meeting with some of my backup musicians in later May to run through music, try out some cool things and prepare for full-ensemble rehearsals in the summer. Looking farther ahead, I've lined up summer shows at World Cup and Beaterville Cafe! For a full schedule, check out my Reverb:
http://www.reverbnation.com/bethhamon
And above all, thanks SO much for your support during this campaign and through a year so amazing that I could not have made it up if I tried. You are why I make music and without you there is simply no point. I remain continually grateful.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
pure wrenching, part three: GT tachyon semi-roadie
This one was sweet. A petite friend's equally petite GT Tachyon from 2010, in for a tune-up, that cleaned up and trued up beautifully, even though it needed new brake pads and a front derailleur cable.
A gorgeous day for wrenching at home: high of 70F and I'm in shorts and a t-shirt, rocking out to the NanoPod (except when I have to listen closely for brake pad rub).
Oddity: My Pedro's gear-cleaning brush has disintegrated without explanation. The plastic holding the bristles in place cracked on three of four sides and bristles simply fell out. A reaction to cituss-based cleaning solvent? The weather? Doubtful on either count. I will take the brush to a shop that sells Pedro's and get a swap, I suppose. Used to be I'd wrap this stuff up and send it back to the manufacturer, but anymore I prefer the quick fix.
It's still so quietly satisfying to work on bikes. I'm still quick, even at my own relaxed pace without the pressures of retail. There's a lovely feeling in the heft of a good wrench, the right amount of torque to tighten a bolt, the ability to eyeball a problem and solve it on the spot. I know that someday I may not want, or be able to, do this anymore, even for fun. Right now I'm glad I still can.
A gorgeous day for wrenching at home: high of 70F and I'm in shorts and a t-shirt, rocking out to the NanoPod (except when I have to listen closely for brake pad rub).
Oddity: My Pedro's gear-cleaning brush has disintegrated without explanation. The plastic holding the bristles in place cracked on three of four sides and bristles simply fell out. A reaction to cituss-based cleaning solvent? The weather? Doubtful on either count. I will take the brush to a shop that sells Pedro's and get a swap, I suppose. Used to be I'd wrap this stuff up and send it back to the manufacturer, but anymore I prefer the quick fix.
It's still so quietly satisfying to work on bikes. I'm still quick, even at my own relaxed pace without the pressures of retail. There's a lovely feeling in the heft of a good wrench, the right amount of torque to tighten a bolt, the ability to eyeball a problem and solve it on the spot. I know that someday I may not want, or be able to, do this anymore, even for fun. Right now I'm glad I still can.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
pure wrenchng, part two: 2001 trek hybrid
Today I tuned up a 12-year-old Trek hybrid for a friend who'd hired me to throw some love at his bike. It mstly went fine, though The rear wheel was installed with the skewer backwards (and missing its quick-release springs) in order to accommodate a very old trailer hitch. There was really no way to accommodate the trailer hitch without compromising the position of the rear axle in the dropouts, so I made an executive decision and removed it.
The rear rack had been destroyed by twelve years of overloading. The main vertical struts were bent back on themselves and the rack leaned to one side because my friend insists on carrying all of his stuff in one very heavily overloaded pannier rather than balancing the load between two ("It's inconvenient," he told me, "and it has to be convenient or I won't ride." I used to hear stuff like this from customer all the time so I just shrugged and nodded.). I replaced the rack with a NOS stock model I'd been sitting on in the stash. The new rack, more sturdily built than what it replaced, made it even harder to put the trailer hitch back. I hoped this would be enough to dissuade him from using this hitch again.
As I worked, cleaning the drive-train, lightly sanding the brake pads and tightening the brakes up a bit, and thoroughly cleaning the bike all over, I listened to music from a Nano stashed in my workshirt pocket, with the cable running up by back to earbuds. It was actually pretty nice to work this way as long as I wasn't doing anything that requires close listening. (I turned off the music and pulled out the earbuds when it was time to true the wheels.)
The whole thing took two hours including replacing the rack, and gave me some quiet time that was not focused on my album or on Jewish work. I'm glad for the sense of balance this occasional at-home wrenching work gives me. And it's nice to be able to help my friends.
My friend picked up his bike, frowned at the news about the trainer hitch, and frowned harder when I gently told him I would not put things back the way they'd been and re-install the hitch. "It's my job as your mechanic to tell you that this is unsafe. Please find another way to carry your groceries (like, I dunno, a second pannier, maybe?)."
He shrugged noncommittally. Something in his look suggested he might take matters into his own hands when he got back home. I advised him that if he chose to undo my work I could not help responsible if anything happened. I really wanted him to be safe and find another trailer hitch. He said he'd think about it, thanked me for my help and rode home.
Thankfully, I'm not doing this for a living anymore so I don't have to document everything to within an inch of its life. But it always blows my mind when someone entrusts me to work on their bike, knows I've been doing this for a long time, and still wants me to do something less than totally safe on their bikes for the sake of convenience.
I have another repair favor scheduled for next week.
Happy riding!
The rear rack had been destroyed by twelve years of overloading. The main vertical struts were bent back on themselves and the rack leaned to one side because my friend insists on carrying all of his stuff in one very heavily overloaded pannier rather than balancing the load between two ("It's inconvenient," he told me, "and it has to be convenient or I won't ride." I used to hear stuff like this from customer all the time so I just shrugged and nodded.). I replaced the rack with a NOS stock model I'd been sitting on in the stash. The new rack, more sturdily built than what it replaced, made it even harder to put the trailer hitch back. I hoped this would be enough to dissuade him from using this hitch again.
As I worked, cleaning the drive-train, lightly sanding the brake pads and tightening the brakes up a bit, and thoroughly cleaning the bike all over, I listened to music from a Nano stashed in my workshirt pocket, with the cable running up by back to earbuds. It was actually pretty nice to work this way as long as I wasn't doing anything that requires close listening. (I turned off the music and pulled out the earbuds when it was time to true the wheels.)
The whole thing took two hours including replacing the rack, and gave me some quiet time that was not focused on my album or on Jewish work. I'm glad for the sense of balance this occasional at-home wrenching work gives me. And it's nice to be able to help my friends.
My friend picked up his bike, frowned at the news about the trainer hitch, and frowned harder when I gently told him I would not put things back the way they'd been and re-install the hitch. "It's my job as your mechanic to tell you that this is unsafe. Please find another way to carry your groceries (like, I dunno, a second pannier, maybe?)."
He shrugged noncommittally. Something in his look suggested he might take matters into his own hands when he got back home. I advised him that if he chose to undo my work I could not help responsible if anything happened. I really wanted him to be safe and find another trailer hitch. He said he'd think about it, thanked me for my help and rode home.
Thankfully, I'm not doing this for a living anymore so I don't have to document everything to within an inch of its life. But it always blows my mind when someone entrusts me to work on their bike, knows I've been doing this for a long time, and still wants me to do something less than totally safe on their bikes for the sake of convenience.
I have another repair favor scheduled for next week.
Happy riding!
Monday, April 15, 2013
finally feeling pretty clean of it
In September I brought home my apron and assorted hand tools from Citybikes the day I quit.
Several weeks later, I finally pulled my filthy apron out of the bag it had been sitting in, in the entryway where I'd left it.
After having myself a good cry over the end of my bicycle career (and, more accurately, the way it had ended), I hung the apron on a hook in our home office, next to my desk.
To my partner's tremendous credit, she never once commented on the apron hanging there, still holding months and months of shop grease and oil in its canvas fibers. Either the thing hasn't smelled all this time or Sweetie has simply held her tongue, figuring that when I was ready to deal with it I would.
This morning, I finally took it off the doorknob next to my desk and tossed it in the wash, along with some old jeans and a handful of oily shop rags that were all in need of washing in a sparate, hot-water load.
It's clean now, or at least sort of clean. Clean enough to hang on a hook in the shed, where I will use it when I feel the need.
I got an email today from a bike industry contact, a guy who'd worked back east for a wholesale distributor and small parts boutique before he got tired of East Coast life and quit, moving to Portland. Today this guy had gone to Citybikes where he'd seen a "Help Wanted" sign. He wanted to know what I knew about it. He was thinking of dropping off a resume.
I wrote back, thanking him for his email and explaining that, as I had not set foot in the shop since the day I quit, I had nothing helpful to offer him. I wished him luck, and that was that.
It felt good to write that.
Several weeks later, I finally pulled my filthy apron out of the bag it had been sitting in, in the entryway where I'd left it.
After having myself a good cry over the end of my bicycle career (and, more accurately, the way it had ended), I hung the apron on a hook in our home office, next to my desk.
To my partner's tremendous credit, she never once commented on the apron hanging there, still holding months and months of shop grease and oil in its canvas fibers. Either the thing hasn't smelled all this time or Sweetie has simply held her tongue, figuring that when I was ready to deal with it I would.
This morning, I finally took it off the doorknob next to my desk and tossed it in the wash, along with some old jeans and a handful of oily shop rags that were all in need of washing in a sparate, hot-water load.
It's clean now, or at least sort of clean. Clean enough to hang on a hook in the shed, where I will use it when I feel the need.
I got an email today from a bike industry contact, a guy who'd worked back east for a wholesale distributor and small parts boutique before he got tired of East Coast life and quit, moving to Portland. Today this guy had gone to Citybikes where he'd seen a "Help Wanted" sign. He wanted to know what I knew about it. He was thinking of dropping off a resume.
I wrote back, thanking him for his email and explaining that, as I had not set foot in the shop since the day I quit, I had nothing helpful to offer him. I wished him luck, and that was that.
It felt good to write that.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
In search of IndieGogo
The
IndieGogo continues.
It's
early in the game.
Still, I take it as an opportunity to remind folks to
**Tell Your Friends**
and please share this link:
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