E-bikes: I'll die before I buy one.

I see many more e-bikes on the streets these days.
A shocking number of my friends who used to ride human-powered bikes as primary transportation have switched to e-bikes.
Some of them genuinely need the electric assist to get up hills more often as they've aged.
Others simply like the convenience of riding without having to sweat so much, or ride farther than legs alone could handle.

That's great for them.

An e-bike starts at around $3,000 for something decent and durable. The average e-bike owner spends upwards of $250 a year on maintenance and repairs.

A safe, functioning pedal-powered bicycle can cost as little as $25 used. In some cases, I've seen ads for FREE bikes that people no longer ride. The average regular bike owner spends between $50 and $75 a year on maintenance and repairs, and most regular bike owners can fix their own flats and adjust their own brakes,

E-bikes discourage self-sufficiency. You can't easily fix a flat on an e-bike by yourself, at home or on the road, without using Slime-in-a-can or Fix-a-Flat, or some other unsustainable and noxious chemical aid. Shops that do fix e-bike flats charge upwards of $30 for the service, plus parts. Many newer e-bikes are belt-driven, and there is NO way to deal with a drive belt on the road. You need special tools that cost more than the belt itself.

Now, to be fair, self-sufficiency for bicycle riders was being discouraged long before e-bikes blew up. While I worked at Citybikes, the number of bike riders actually willing to get their hands dirty doing basic upkeep was already dropping, due to demographic and generational shifts that reflected decreasing self-sufficiency across society. But the steep rise in e-bike ownership definitely accelerated that shift, especially in the last four or five years.

I no longer work in the bike industry. Arthritis has done a serious number on my hands. But if I were stuck by the side of the road I could still fix a flat and get home. I've taken steps to ensure that, which include carrying a patch kit, levers and a pump on my bike and choosing to ride 26"/559 wheels because those tires are easier to remove and reinstall. Simple stuff.

This is a rambling rant, inspired by a recent BikePortland.org article about the rise of e-bike ownership and rising demands for electric-powered car infrastructure.

I certainly can't afford to buy an e-bike. But if I could, I wouldn't. And I won't ever own one.
I think self-sufficiency is good for society and good for communities, and technology that discourages both is bad for us. I'd rather fix my own flats on a bike that's simple and efficient, than have to rely on someone else to maintain my bike for me.

Bicycle used to be simple and elegant technology. I will fight the good fight to keep mine going for as long as I can.

(My Centurion Super Le Mans. Eugene, Oregon 1997. I learned how to repair and rebuild bicycles using this as my laboratory, and rode it until it was totaled in a collision. Then, I used my skills to build up a replacement bicycle from parts.)

(The bike I ride now. Still simple and elegant, and repairable at home.)

The pitfalls of being too disabled or not disabled enough

My doctor says that I should ride my bike and/or walk in order to keep my heart and lungs health, and to keep my blood pressure under control and maintain a steady weight.

All good.

I am awaiting a disability decision on a claim I filed last winter.
I filed for disability because a combination of multiple health issues prevents me from doing what I know how to do even half-time anymore, and because retraining programs for anyone over 60 years old are not government subsidized.

There are penalties involved for anyone trying to move around a little to keep from getting sicker, when getting sicker is exactly what the government expects one to do when they are disabled.

Being disabled according to the government's standard means:

-- you're not supposed to medically improve.
-- you're not supposed to medically stabilize.
-- you're not supposed to have fun or laugh or have a social life, basically ever.
-- you're supposed to keep getting worse and die quickly so we don't have to pay you any of the Social Security you've put in over the course of your working life.

On top of that, Social Security will make it so hard for you to see your claim through to a positive outcome that eventually you give up (and please die already).

Well, FUCK that.

I'm still here.
I can't do what I used to be able to do, but I can still laugh and cry and enjoy my time with my beloveds and engage in the life and well-being of my city.
If I can do that sustainably, then by God I will do that.

See you at Bike Happy Hour.

(below: part of a quit I made by hand over 20 years ago. I can't hand sew like this anymore, but I'm glad I was able to make this and I cherish it greatly. Because I'm a human being and I get to have a life, however small and local it may be.)

Bicycle resale end times

The end is near.

😂😂😂

Selling your soul to the devil and then begging for a do-over will only make the devil laugh harder.

Electric cars are supposed to be the great savior of the environment, and the next chapter in the story of wheeled transportation. And I suppose if this had come about thoughtfully and carefully, at a measured pace that would allow people and governments to transition sensibly and sustainably, perhaps it would be more widely accepted by — and accessible to — a larger majority of drivers.

Instead, competing types of cars were introduced at lightning speed before the longer mileage issues were worked out, and before there was sufficient infrastructure to support a nationwide transition away from fossil fuels. And as in so many instances of chest-thumping in capitalism, there were buffoons with too much money and too little consideration for the greater good elbowing their way to supremacy.

And this is how we got here:

This is the Tesla Cybertruck, a monstrosity of steel, excess and testosterone unleashed onto an unsuspecting world by Elon Musk, the founder and CEO of Tesla and a whole lot of other things I won’t bother with here.

A stainless steel hard-on.

This vehicle retails for between $61,000 and $110,000 before add-ons, making it one of the most expensive consumer vehicles on the market.

But that’s not the most interesting part.

Apparently, if you buy a Cybertruck, you cannot resell it during the first year of ownership. If you violate this clause, you must pay Tesla a fine of — sit down — $50,000, and you may be permanently barred from ever buying another Tesla.

  

That’s right.

Selling your soul to the devil and then begging for a do-over will only make the devil laugh harder.

If you Google “used Tesla Cybertruck,” you’ll find a number of these behemoths available for sale, used. Either the owners decided they could afford the penalty, or they already know they’ll never buy another Tesla, or more likely, they got in way over their heads.

I have not an ounce of pity for these buyers, or their remorse. If you’re wealthy enough to buy one of these grotesque, offensive hulks, you’re smart enough to read the fine print (or pay someone to do it for you and translate). 

I also feel no pity for Tesla founder Elon Musk, who has shown himself to be a rich, unrepentant oaf and possibly an antisemite, or for anyone employed by Tesla (nobody pointed a gun at you and forced you to choose this clown act as your employer).

Anyone who earns enough to spend his money this way — and I’ve yet to find evidence of a woman buying one of these things — and buys in has drunk a poisonous brew indeed. You think that buying something like this is going to get you into the same club as Musk or Bezos? Nope. You’re just rich guys aping the super-rich, and you can’t keep up. You could do a lot better, so much more truly good stuff, with your money, and you chose to spend it on this? You don’t have enough political juice to persuade state and local governments to make roadways, parking spaces and garages bigger so you can park your hundred thousand dollar Hot Wheels(TM)  Terminator(TM) edition clown car. 

No pity here.

Coffee Outside 6-15-24: Peninsula Park

I made my way carefully to Peninsula Park for Coffee Outside this morning. The weather was cool and occasionally a little rainy, and I stuck to residential side streets so I could ride slowly and carefully.

Balance issues continue to bother me periodically when I ride, so I tend to keep my rides short and mellow.

We had a nice gathering of folks, some bringing coffee and others brewing on site.

There was a softball tournament in progress, and we could watch the goings on from the gazebo.

A couple of dogs accompanied their people, and were very friendly. 

It was lovely to see friends and enjoy a cool early summer morning. Peninsula Park’s Rose Garden s in full bloom right now and the colors were gorgeous against a swirling, blue-gray sky.

There’s also another Coffee Outside today on Ainsworth, going on till 3pm, at a coffeehouse that’s celebrating an anniversary; but one ride was enough for me and I went home for a nap.

Pedalpalooza Kickoff party and ride

I decided I’d skip Coffee Outside this weekend, and go to the Pedalpalooza kickoff party and ride instead.

I enjoyed myself while I was downtown, bumping into friends and ogling the wide variety of bicycles and other human-powered vehicles.

I arrived a little before 3:30 and enjoyed the proceedings, walking around and snapping photos.

By 4:30, there were several thousand people gathered, filling the North Park Blocks while waiting for the start of the ride at 5pm.

At 5pm, the ride kicked off, cruising slowly to NW Broadway, then turning left to cross the Broadway Bridge. I pedaled along slowly, finding myself surrounded by other riders whose bikes passed me, sometimes with less than  half a foot between us. Once upon a time, this would not have fazed me at all and I would have easily held my line without worry.

Today, though, was my first group ride since before the pandemic, before Covid and Long Covid and everything else. And today, I simply could not feel comfortable holding my line with others passing so close. I got dizzy and a little thrown off, and I knew I would have to pull over and get out of the way. My Pedalpalooza Kickoff Ride was over after four blocks. 

I pulled up onto the sidewalk, feeling sad and sorry, and then I watched as several thousand riders in a dense bunch streamed past me. 

I knew I had made the right choice. I was sad, and also philosophical about it. Long Covid, a long hiatus from riding and the passage of time had taken away some of my comfort, stability and confidence. It had also taken away my stamina. I knew immediately that even if I had felt comfortable enough in that huge crowd, I wouldn’t make it over the bridge and up the hill to Laurelhurst Park, some six miles away. It was all just too much for the rider I had become now.

I waited until the last of the throng had passed me, and then I turned and rode towards the nearest MAX stop. I would ride the train up the long hill to Overlook, them hop out and ride the last two miles home.

Riding alone, I felt less wobbly and mostly held my line. I wasn’t trying my head quickly either way to look out for other riders, and I was riding in a bike lane, and that was preferable by far. 

I stopped at Peninsula Park to admire the roses, most of which are in bloom now. It was a good way to end my evening, and I was able to feel gratitude for being able to ride alongside such beauty as this.

Enjoy Bike Summer, and happy riding.

The depressed used bike market, part two.

Seen today in my FB feed.

Twenty years ago, this bike would have cost at least $1,200. And it would’ve been worth every penny.

Not today.

Ridiculous. 

Everyone seems to be chasing after cookie-cutter, mass-produced e-bikes, while masterpieces like these sit ignored and unridden. Very sad.

Proof that the bicycle market is DEPRESSED.

Prices on used bikes and accessories have been in freefall since the latter half of the pandemic.

A used bicycle that I rescued, overhauled and accessorized, could sell for over $200 in 2019-2020.

Today I can’t get fifty bucks for the same bike.

Below: this bike, with an Xtracycle attachment installed is currently for sale in Gresham, Oregon.

I used to sell the attachment kits ALONE, new, for over $500, some fifteen years ago.

Kiddie handlebar, running boards and other add-ons could bring the price up by another $100-125.

This attachment kit is installed on a Specialized Hard Rock, a mountain bike from the 1990s that has become somewhat desirable, and which can fetch upwards of $300 in good condition on the used market here. (The flagship Rock Hopper can fetch double that, depending on product year and condition.)

Today, this seller is asking $250 for the whole thing, bike and Xtracycle installed.

If I still rode a cargo bike, this would be a steal. But, like many bicyclists here and across the country, I find long tail cargo bikes too hard to balance as I get older (and wobblier, a residual effect of Long Covid), and I no longer haul heavy cargo by bicycle. 

It’s a new listing, so don’t be surprised if he drops the price after a few weeks. 

An aging demographic, the rise in popularity of e-bikes across age groups (that’s another post for another time, but don’t get me started), and the abandonment of bicycle-friendly infrastructure projects have all combined to make ordinary bicycle riding less popular than it used to be before Covid. The pandemic alone wiped out over a third of bike commuting from pre-lockdown, and it hasn’t really come back. 

This would be a bad time for me to sell either of my remaining two bicycles. (I’m not ready to let them go, but it’s definitely a buyer’s market these days.) I couldn’t sell the larger share of my bicycle tools, and ultimately gave them away. I’m mostly okay with it at this point, and hope they’ll be put to good use.

I’m still riding, a few times a week at most, for short distances. I take my transit pass with me so if I get dizzy I can hop on transit to get home. I know that the day will come when I no longer ride at all, and when it does, I’ll sell off what’s left.

In the meantime, I can still ride a little.

Pedalpalooza, Portland’s summertime celebration of all things bicycle, begins tomorrow with a friendly group ride that starts downtown. If you’re in Portland and you have a bicycle, check it out. There will be rides and bike-adjacent events all summer long: https://www.shift2bikes.org/pedalpalooza-calendar/

Happy riding!

The new lock fad.

At tonight’s Bike Happy Hour, I noticed quite a few bikes secured against theft with something other than U-locks.

In fact, so was mine.

I stopped using U-locks a few months ago. The locks I had were small, to make it harder to fit a leverage tool inside. But using so small a lock made it hard to lock up either of my bikes, both of which have 26” wheels.

So, like many others, I’ve switched to a folding lock. Made of hardened steel and encased in nylon or rubber, they allow enough room to secure bike frame and wheel to a rack and are strong enough to withstand most efforts at theft.

(Obviously, a Sawz-All would get through; but at that point you’re attracting enough attention to just look stupid.)

Here’s a few examples

Folding locks come in varying lengths, with links in varying individual lengths and thicknesses. The fold up quite compactly and usually come with a holder that bolts to the frame (using the water bottle eyelets).

(They seem especially ideal for the latest generation of e-bikes, many of which come with really fat tires and unusual frame geometry that make using a U-lock all but impossible.)

A folding lock that provides enough security will be heavier than a U-lock of the appropriate size. Mine is heavy enough that I must remove it from its holder to hang the bike on its wall hook. It can easily cost as much as or more than the higher-quality U-locks. It’s definitely an investment, and a good one for a bike you really care  about.

Abus makes the industry standard, and a new one can set you back $60 to $80.

But so far, I’ve been glad I made the switch.

The 1980s are forty years old

Earlier this week, I did two things:

1. I invited a local vintage bike retailer to come by and pick through my large stack of tools and parts and buy what she wanted.

I brought out the stuff I was ready to part with and invited her to sift through it, then make a pile and we’d discuss price. As she sifted through my stuff, she selected a rather large pile of things and then made a lowball offer. I said she’d need to pay considerably more for everything she wanted, especially since a lot of it was in good shape and still very usable — and we both knew she’d flip the most vintage pieces at a premium on her retail web site.

She sighed, and made the pile smaller. I then told her what I wanted, and she said, “you’ve got a lot of low-end stuff here.” 

“Maybe low-end by today’s standards,” I responded, “but most of these components can be disassembled and overhauled, and that makes them worth more.”

We finally agreed on a price where neither of us was ecstatic, but I think I came away happier than she did. I won’t sell to her again. And I fully expect to see some of my bits for sale on her web site and fairly high prices. 

After all, someone out there thinks this saddle is worth four figures. 

It’s a bicycle saddle. A thing you sit on while you ride. I love Daniel Rebour’s art, but I honestly don’t care if his signature shows up on something no one can see while riding. Plus, he’s been dead for over forty years.

2. I sorted through a great deal of what was left, putting it into multiple boxes. I pulled out a few pieces I wasn’t yet ready to part with. I loaded the rest not two trips with a wheelbarrow, walked the lot around the corner and deposited it in a neat pile at a public section of curbside. Then, I went home and advertised it on my Buy Nothing network with a general location. Within the hour, people came over and helped themselves to whatever they wanted. Four hours later, the six boxes had shrunk to three. I expect much of the rest of it to disappear over the holiday weekend.

I’m fine with that. Because I have to be.

The truth is that the used bike market has seriously slumped since COVID. Point of fact, it probably began slumping before then, but the bottom fell out after 2020. 

Thanks to a ferocious return to automotive travel in cities across the country and a priority given to repairing and spending car-centric infrastructure, a lot of transportational bicyclists are simply not riding as much as they used to. 

Add to the mix the demographic shift — lots of people used to ride more regularly have aged and are riding less, and a lot of younger bicyclists with money would rather pay someone else to fix their bicycles. 

Finally, blame the bicycle industry, which has embraced e-bikes and higher-end, purpose-driven performance bikes, and which has discontinued more and more lower-end parts that work across branded and models when used in pure friction mode. The last thing today’s bicycle industry wants are bicycles that can be kept going way home-based repairs and repairable parts. They are trying to sell new stuff. This has been the reality since I was an inventory manager for my shop, and it’s only gotten worse.

So yeah, if you’re looking at that pile through the lens of high-end collectors who want Campy (and those guys will always want vintage Campy), or through the lens of people who’d rather not get their hands dirty, well then yeah, all the parts I’ve saved up over the years are probably “lower end” parts.

But there’s a whole subgroup of bicycle enthusiasts out there who still ride $200 bikes and fix those bikes themselves, these parts will be a goldmine. I won’t make any money off them now, but I can set them free and someone else will find them useful. 

I still have a few things I’ll hang onto until I absolutely cannot make a single repair on my own bikes anymore.

The bicycle industry as the tech bros, carbon-fiber babies and “gravel” riders with five percent body fat have reimagined it in 2024 is not green, not sustainable and not terribly welcoming to lower-income riders. So here’s a nice big middle finger for you. I do not miss working in the industry at all, and I am fiddling while bicycle Rome burns.  If and when things truly go south, I will wonder if you kids can scare up enough carbon-fiber bits and e-bike batteries to keep going. I strongly suspect that there will be folks who will regret once telling me not to help keep the older bikes going when I should’ve sold new stuff.

I’m not sorry.

Taking a breath.

So I went to Bike Happy Hour last night.

Thankfully, the focus remained on bicycles and transportation infrastructure.

And I was able to have lovely conversations with all sorts of folks, and my heightened sense of worry calmed down.

Was I over-worrying? Not for me I wasn't. I'm Jewish. I come programmed with a heightened sense of worry around being Jewish. This heightened worry may be partly a condition of my DNA, and partly a result of the antisemitism I've experienced in my lifetime, and there is probably nothing I can do to change that very much.

But last night I got to ride my bike, and hang with bike people and that helped me take a breath.

I'll ride my bike again today and hopefully tomorrow as well, and perhaps if I keep riding I can keep taking breaths.

I recognize that this will not change anything in the larger world. I cannot fix the larger world. All I can do is do what I can here in my little corner. And if that's not enough, it's still something.

Happy riding.

Conflicted.

This showed up just now in my Instagram feed.

 

I am immediately conflicted. 

I love a great group ride. I’ve enjoyed my fair share over the years. A few of them have been purposeful, like this one is. Most have been in celebration of the bicycle and some have had no overarching theme at all.

After my experience last week at Bike Happy Hour — an intensely internal one, admittedly — I wonder now where I can participate in bicycle community activities without feeling weird. I wonder if I am supposed to feel weird at every single community even going forward, until such time as there’s and end to the current round of fighting. (And let’s be clear: any end to the current hostilities would not be, and could never be, permanent or even very long term. There is too much at stake for the power players involved, overseas and here in the US. Sorry, but that’s what happens when you grow up and see things as truly complicated and messy as they are.)

Do I somehow summon the spoons to speak up for complexity and nuance? Will be I be shouted down simply because too many people in this time and place are too impatient for nuance? Or will I be shouted down simply if I identify (or am identified) as a Jew?

Maybe there’s a way out of this, but right now I feel a little stuck. Because right now, in too many places, too many voices are confusing — or conflating, if we’re honest — Zionism and Jewishness. For too many people, those have become one and the same. People who don’t like Jews in general are dictating the terms of my identity for me. And I don’t feel big enough or strong enough to counter their arguments.

If the idea of “doing-every-single-public-thing-for-Palestine” catches on at the current rate, I may end up riding alone all summer. I’ve done that before, and I can certainly do it again. I’d just rather not.

I have three more public bicycle events to check out in the next couple of weeks, during which I hope things will become clearer for me. I will hold off my inner verdicts until then, and I guess I’ll see what happens.

Happy riding.

Highway to Hell, and other Americanisms

I’ve ridden my bicycle for real, practical transportation since I was eight years old. I was eight years old in 1971. It was, as we say, a different time back then. It was far safer to ride a bicycle in most American towns and cities, for lots of reasons that include population, demographics and available consumer choices at the time. (Millennials, you can Google the Middle East Oil Crisis of 1972-3 to get the fuller picture. It was a wacky time.)

I continued to ride my bicycle even as my peers were getting their drivers’ licenses. (I got a learner’s permit too, but wasn’t really interested in driving and actually flunked my first driving test at seventeen. I wouldn’t try again until my mid-twenties. Another story.)

I rode my bicycle all over Gresham and, after I moved out, all over other towns and cities. It wasn’t always ideal but it was entirely doable. And safe enough, in those days, to do so without a helmet. (To be fair, only college kids with money could afford the helmets that were available at the time, so the rest of us went without.)

The freedom and ease that I felt whenever I swung a leg over the top tube and pedaled away was unlike anything else. And in some ways, it still is, even now when I can only ride shorter distance at slower speeds. (I have a helmet now. They got cheaper.)

Dan Sheehan, aka NOT A WOLF, has written an amazing and important essay about the state of travel on America’s roads today, and the state of Americans’ mental health behind the wheel. 

I urge you all to read it, if for no other reason that it will help you understand what’s at stake in the future of not only the environment, but in the health of our collective psyche.

May is National Bike Month. 

Pedalpalooza, Portland’s annual summer bicycle festival, begins June 1st.

Whoever you are, wherever you are, PLEASE slow down, consider combining car trips if you must drive, and SEE PEOPLE ON BICYCLES.

Travel safely.

https://dansheehan.substack.com/p/highway-to-hell   

Coffee Outside in PDX gets a little more special this week.

Portland bikey peeps — Coffee Outside will meet up at Lords Luggage this Saturday, not a typical park locale but in support of a local artisan who makes bags for bikers, walkers and other Portlanders and is throwing a party to celebrate Portland maker culture.

Starts at 9am. Bring your own coffee fixings, pastries and fun. And stay for the party.

Bike Happy Hour, and then some

I enjoyed a nice ride to Bike Happy Hour this evening. Saw some friends, met some nice new people, did the bikey love thing, and everything was great.

Then came the Open Mic, where folks in attendance can get up and make announcements about upcoming events (mostly bike related but not absolutely required). One of the speakers was a fellow who decided to use his turn at the mic to speak out against “the genocide in Gaza,” and then urging everyone present to do the same. He also informed us that he has lobbied local transportation-oriented nonprofits like Street Trust and Bike Loud to issue statements condemning “the genocide in Gaza,” as if these decidedly local transportation-oriented nonprofits could effect any meaningful difference either way — or should.

I felt slightly uncomfortable. Then, the Bike Happy Hour host gave this man a big hug and the assembled crowd applauded, and I felt a little more uncomfortable.

Here’s why.

At bicycle-centric gatherings such as this, I’ve never heard anyone come out this boldly against genocide against any other group of people — in Somalia, Sierra Leone, or Anywhere else. In fact, the current climate seems to be quite open to statements about this particular conflict — which, lest we forget, began with an attack on October 7 of last year that was apparently months or even years on the making. The level of outrage about the attack against Israel never seemed to achieve the same volume, the same fevered pitch, or the sustain, from the general public as the Israeli government’s decision to retaliate against Hamas. Then, there was a lot of cry and hue against Israel, and against Jews (whether Zionist or not) from multiple sides.

While I am well aware that there is a lot more support for Palestinians than for Jews in a lefty town like Portland, finding this vibe at a bicycle-oriented event was really disappointing for me. Was I surprised? I guess not entirely. But yeah, I was disappointed. Was I nervous? I don’t know. I felt kind of alone. And of course, I suppose I would feel that way in this particular context. 

Jews are not a huge subgroup here. And over half of Portland’s Jews are not affiliated with any Jewish institution. For some, the cost of admission is too high (though synagogues have come a long way since the 1970s, and nearly all of them are willing to work with someone on a tight budget). For others, they don’t feel a big pull towards organized religion. And for the rest, they see their Jewish identity at best as a thing that doesn’t matter much, and at worst a thing to be played down in favor of assimilating. Jews as a group are hardly monolithic. 

As someone who did not grow up in a Zionist home and whose connection to Jewish communal life was almost nonexistent until adulthood, I struggle with how I feel about Israel for lots of reasons. But at this present time, with college campuses up in arms and too many refusing to make a distinction between Israelis, Zionists and Jews because nuance is too hard, yeah. I felt alone and a little nervous. I’m not sure I can feel any other way at this time or in this place.

And mostly I felt so alone because I didn’t expect global politics to enter a chilled-out, bicycle-oriented space so selectively. 

I stayed for a few minutes after the Open Mic period was over, then said my goodbyes and left. 

I felt sad and annoyed and nervous all at the same time. The ride home helped a little. But only a little.

I don’t know if, with all my health issues and everything else going on, I feel like expending much more energy on this. But I felt like it was important enough to warrant a mention here. 

Bike Summer 2024: Coming soon to a Portland near you

Bike Summer begins in June, with a kickoff ride on June 1 at the North Park Blocks. Check out the Pedalpalooza calendar here:

https://www.shift2bikes.org/pedalpalooza-calendar/

Bike Summer merch is available for pre-order here:

https://www.shop.rendered.co/pedalpalooza

Portland is a great place to ride a bicycle. There are events being added all the time. And join me and a bunch of bike-loving folks at the opening ride.

Clean getaway: Why I'm glad I left the bicycle industry

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I currently own three bicycles.

(My health has made it harder for me to ride often, but I still love bicycles and probably will forever.)

 

-- 1999 Rivendell All-Rounder. The bike I ride most often. It has the greatest grocery capacity with a big saddlebag and front basket, and it shows its 25 years of honest wear beautifully.

 

-- 1988 Peugeot Orient Express. I got this a couple years ago because I'd been looking (for almost a decade) for an Orient Express in my size and this was what the universe offered.

 

-- 1960s Cape Cod converted into a singlespeed city bike. I love singlespeeds and have enjoyed building up and riding this one. Sadly, my knees are letting me know that singlespeeds may no longer work so well for me, and I am preparing to sell it soon.

I share this here because I've just come across an article that beautifully explains what I think of the direction bicycle design and the bike industry have taken. 

 

I was planning on leaving anyway in 2012 because my hands were taking a beating and my body could no longer handle ten-hour days at a repair stand. (Non-mechanical events at the shop forced me to leave sooner than I had planned, but it was coming before the next busy season regardless.)

 

As this article confirms, I think I left just in time, before things got silly and worse.

See for yourself. And understand why none of my bicycles use newer designs and materials.

Bits and pieces: updates

1. After trying some ergonomic grips on the All-Rounder and liking the additional support they offered, I went ahead and found some for my Peugeot as well.

These corky rubber grips by Asti/Shorex are a nice, more affordable alternative to the Ergon GP-1 grips which retail for over $40 even on Amazon. Yes, they’re made in China. And they cost less than half of what the CP-1’s cost. Now that I am unable to work very much and find myself on a very tight budget, I will get what I need for as little as possible in order to be able to ride my bike.

They have a slightly larger diameter than the used set of ergo grips I found for the All-Rounder, which may actually be beneficial for my arthritic hands. (According to my OT, a larger diameter grip means I don’t have to bring my thumb and forefinger as close together to maintain a grip, which can ease some of the strain and pain.)

2. Remember that funky saddlebag rack I got, then cleaned up and had powder-coated? Well, it works far better on a road frame than on my ATB frames, so I’m letting it go cheap. US shipping only please. I’m asking fifty bucks because it’s cool, vintage and British. Even at that price I’m eating much of the powder-coating cost and you’re getting a heckuva deal. Reach out to me if you’re interested.

3. I hope to start volunteering a couple times a month at Bike Farm now that Passover is behind me. My task will be to show up during an evening open shop period and be available to answer questions and talk someone through a repair as needed. (The idea is that I talk them through in order for them to learn hands-on, and because I can’t really do the repairs myself anymore.) First and third Tuesday evenings for Alphabet Night. Come in, say hi and give the Bike Farm a little love in the form of spare change.

It will be nice to lend some support based on my knowledge and experience, even if I cannot parlay that into paying work anymore. I still love bicycles and their elegant technology and this is a nice way to give something back.

4. Later this spring when the weather warms up, I will be selling off pretty much all the rest of my shop tools and accessories at a discount. I may wait until there’s another swap meet, pay for a little table space and offload them there. But if there’s anything you’re looking for specifically, reach out to me now and ask. I am more than happy to see if I have what you need and let it go separately. The time has come when I can’t really do significant work, even on my bikes, anymore. 

I think that the first time I have to pay a shop to fix a flat it will positively gall me. Looking at it another way, I’ve paid my dues and then some, and it might be nice to pay younger hands to lavish some love on my bike. The jury’s still out on which perspective shows up when the time comes.

5. After unsuccessfully trying to sell my singlespeed, I’ve decided to hang onto it for another year. I’ll put some ergonomic grips on it, and since I’m going mult-modal (bike and bus) a lot more often, it could be the right bike for trips in town where I don’t have to bring groceries home.

It’s spring. Happy riding!

Nobody asked for them.

Here’s a great article by Eben Weiss, aka Bike Snob NYC:

https://www.outsideonline.com/culture/opinion/disc-brakes-took-over-the-cycling-world-heres-why-that-was-a-mistake/

In it, he makes all the reasonable arguments against an entire bicycle industry dropping older technologies in favor of promoting the false idol of “racing trickle-down.”

And if you like that one, here’s another: 

https://www.outsideonline.com/culture/opinion/theres-no-good-reason-to-buy-a-carbon-bike

Again, same thing. The bicycle industry insists on infantilizing consumers by presuming they know what’s best, rather than the people who ride the damned bikes every day.

The last time I dared to question this attitude deeply, I was still working in the bicycle industry and I got my head handed to me on all sides — entirely by men, by the way — because in poo-poohing the 650b renaissance, I had somehow blasphemed the bicycle industry gods.

I built up a 650b test bike for Kogswell twenty years ago. Matthew (of Kogswell) had asked me to be part of the testing group because all his other test-builders were tall guys, and he needed someone shorter to fill out the sample group. I learned a lot from the process, and I’m glad to have done it. But in the end, I simply was not tall enough or big enough to notice a meaningful difference from n ride quality between 650b and my standard, go-to tire size of 26”/559. After the testing was finished, I sold my Kogswell to someone else and went back to my 26’er bikes with no regrets, and watched from the sidelines as two men with considerable social capital proceeded to bully the entire bike industry to invest deeply into 650b. My shop bought some tires, but we never sold very many. Our customers, living on smaller budgets and riding mostly older bikes, didn’t need another t wheel size to devote garage space to. (Rivendell Bicycle Works, which made my 26’er All-Rounder back in 1999, no longer makes frames to fit that wheel size. Too bad. However, they have yet to make a bike with disc tabs, so I mostly forgive them.)

The hard, ugly fact is that racing trickle-down is what helps to pay for the juggernaut costs of racing bike and component development and production. And racing is what gets the company name out in front of the media, not some old fat lady peddling her city bike at 10mph on her way to the store.

Which is a big part of why this old fat lady no longer shops at bike stores for anything new, and why she has a supply of overhauled freewheels on hand to see her out.

Can’t afford the new and shiny stuff? Don’t worry. There are plenty of used bikes and parts out there at downright cheap prices. Relax, and go ride your bike.

Kickstand swap.

For about ten years I’ve been using a center-mount kickstand on the Rivvy. It wasn’t ideal, but the bike was more stable this way. I didn’t want to use a two-legged center-mount kickstand because of the added weight; I don’t carry stupid-heavy loads anymore and it would’ve been overkill. Plus, they’re expensive.

Then I came into a used rear-mount kickstand that would give me the stability I wanted without further risk to the chain stays near the bottom bracket shell. So I swapped it in.

(Pro tip: determine the contact points on your rear triangle, and give those a few wraps of cloth tape to protect the paint and give the mounting bracket a good place to grip.)

I had to remove the rubber tip from the old kickstand, which required some cutting through super-glue.

The rubber tip adds a few mm of height to set the angle where I’d like it, and protects the metal end from scraping against the sidewalk and wearing down. I didn’t have a spare, so I rescued the old one. They’re meant to fit the Pletscher or Greenfield kickstands, and you can buy them at any bike shop for about $3.

After removing the rubber tip, I installed it on the replacement kickstand. Because of the cut I’d had to make to get it off, I applied super glue and then wrapped a zip tie around it to hold it in place while the glue dries. Eventually, I ,Amy fill in the split with either more super glue, or some plastic resin. But right now it seems to hold together fine on its own. I’ll probably leave the zip tie alone.

Wayback Bicycle Machine: on thrift and common sense

I came across this article in an old Bridgestone Bicycle catalog. Written by Peter Egan, who would go on to work for a time at Rivendell Bicycle Works, it makes as much, if not more, sense today as it did in 1994. Enjoy it, and then go ride your bike.

Bike Farm needs some love. You can help.

I’m going to start helping out a couple times a month at Bike Farm, to get out of the house and not focus on my own stuff for a little while.

The Bike Farm is a workshop that allows people to rent tools and bench space, and learn how to repair their own bicycles. The shop is volunteer-run and depends on donations from the public as well as volunteer hours. 

If you’d like to find out more, check out their website: https://www.bikefarm.org/