Downtown bike crowding

It's frustrating but not surprising to encounter stores, offices and facilities with insufficient bike racks.  I usually try to tell a storeowner, politely, that I'm a customer, I arrived on a bicycle, and I'd find their business easier to patronize if it had a place for me to lock my bike.  So far, everyone has been, or at least sounded, appreciative for the input.

Last week, I had an appointment at a downtown building and arrived to find not a single space left for me to secure my Raleigh.  Bikes were on both sides of the handful of racks and a half-dozen were locked only to themselves, leaned against a window.  After some thought, I pulled my bike onto the unplanted and barren "demonstration garden" and locked it to the sign.

Situation normal.  But wait, as they say on TV, there's more.

The building in question is the headquarters of the California Environmental Protection Agency.  It opened in 2001 and for years -- YEARS -- CalEPA flacks were bragging about the countless green innovations incorporated into the design.  Special window placement minimizes the number of lights needed.  What lights are needed are "super-high efficiency" tubes that dim automatically when the sun shines in.  The roof is a tangle of solar cells.  The parking garage was built with electric vehicles in mind. 

Impressed?  Be quiet.  We're not even warmed up yet.

Low-flow fixtures installed in the bathrooms including the now-infamous waterless urinals.  Native grasses dominate the landscape and smugly refuse even a sip of water in our parched summers. (This may explain why I was able to park my bike in a "demonstration garden."  The point demonstrated seemed to be that plants need water to live.)

Every drop of paint used was "zero volatile organic compound" whatever that means.  The carpet is, I don't know, recycled milk jugs or something.  It was put in place without glue, further reducing VOCs, which I still will not pretend to understand.

Amazing, no?  Sit down.  Still not done.

Under the desks are vermiculture bins.  I'm not making this up.  They might be, but I'm not.  I think this means that if you work at CalEPA, under your desk, there is a big bin with compost and worms.  UNDER YOUR DESK.  The worms, who on any given day may be the only ones performing actual work in a state office, create organic waste which is then used in the courtyard flower beds. 

And this is just the building. We haven't even touched on what CalEPA actually does besides making its employees grow worms under their desks.

This agency is the author and prime mover behind the most stringent green regulations in the world.  This place is where the California Air Resources Board meets to defend itself against its critics, who claim that it has systematically destroyed entire industries and hundreds of thousands of jobs in the name of being the nation's leader in reducing carbon emissions and diesel exhaust.

To say that CalEPA would like us out of our cars is a vast understatement.  It's a bit like saying Charlie Sheen enjoys a drink now and then.

And yet, the best this outfit can muster for its thousands of employees is racks for a couple dozen bikes?  Surely fixing this problem can't be as hard as finding carpet that doesn't need glue or convincing union workers to keep a worm bin at their feet all day. 

Random hipster kindness

So, I'm stopped at a light in midtown Sacramento, when a young guy on a single speed bike -- narrow bars, bright paint job, everything but the fixed-gear hub -- comes to a stop alongside me.

His hair had a splash of neon green in it. His wore a snug-fitting t-shirt and skinny jeans.  Oversized sunglasses.  A loyal, uniformed solider in the Hipster Army.

Not the sunny-dispositioned hipster in question.  But check out that satchel.

I'm getting more at peace with the world these days and less bristly when sharing space with folks whose cultural choices I don't share. Still, my inward reaction was at least a mild form of LATFH.

But then came a surprise.

"How are you?" he asked in the most pleasant of tones.  I think my response reflected genuine pleasure at this departure from the expected.

"Isn't it a beautiful day?" he asked.  It was, I agreed.

"Enjoy it!" he said as the light changed and he pedaled off.

It was just a young guy on a bike who made a choice to be pleasant, but it made a difference in my afternoon.  If he does this three or four times a day -- and his easy tone suggests he does -- this one kid is making the world a significantly brighter place. 

Beautiful Peugeot

The girls and I found ourselves at Hot Italian, the center of Sacramento's cycling scene, on the evening of their Velo & Vintage fashion/bike show.

I can't tell you with any certainty about a single outfit or garment that was modeled.  I can, though, remember a good few of the bikes the models rode down the catwalk. 

For me, the Best in Show was this Peugeot sports/roadster.  So taken was I by this bike that I made a visit the following week to the place I suspected was the source for it.  I was right, and as I arrived at Edible Pedal, I saw it sitting regally inside the doorway.

I think this bike is just stunning.  The fender-mounted light, the chrome fenders, the full chainguard, the braided cable housing... it's all just so elegant.

And seductive.  I really felt a bit disloyal to my collection of English three-speeds as I found myself thinking it was more refined and, well, French, than the Raleighs.

Edible Pedal boss John explained that the bike likely isn't as old as it appears.  At least not all of it.  Closer inspection revealed some distinctly newer parts and components.  It seems to be an expertly created and beautiful Frankenstein, with parts coming from any number and age of Peugeots to make one stunning whole.

wish granted!

Thank you for your support and finger-crossing!

Last week, I became the owner of this marvelous 1951 Sports Superbe.  The seller was Rick, ace mechanic at my LBS and accomplished racer.  On a visit to the shop last month, another mechanic mentioned that Rick was looking for me, wanting to sell a bike.  Rick was out of luck, I informed the messenger, as I have not one more inch of room to store another bike.  A few minutes later, Rick walked in.  I pre-empted the sale, telling him I couldn't possibly buy another bike. The only bike I could be interested in, one I was sure he'd never sell, was the green Raleigh Superbe.

That, Rick said, was just the one he was hoping to sell.  And here, he inserted a bit of remarkable news.  He would sell it for the extraordinarily affordable price he himself had paid for it a few months earlier.  The deal was done.

I like to think of myself as fair and ethical, but I'm not completely sure that if I stumbled onto an amazing deal on a bike I would pass that good fortune along, intact, to the next owner.  I mean, I think it'd be OK to profit a little bit from finding a lottery ticket in the street, no?  Thankfully, Rick is made of better stuff in this department. I did, when it was all done, ensure that Rick saw at least some profit from his remarkable stewardship of the bike.

Now, a word about the bike -- with more to come at another time.

In 1951, Raleigh sold a number of different bikes under the Superbe name.  It seems to have been a designator of "trim level" rather than a distinct model.  You can see what those extras included in 1951 here.

This new bicycle rides as you'd expect a bike owned by a mechanic to ride.  The four-speed Sturmey Archer hub shifts easily, with the middle two of the gears being sufficient to me.  The lowest, marked "B" for reasons I don't yet understand, is extremely low.  This could come in handy, I suppose, but "1" seems adequate for the few hills in our region.  At the high end is "H" and I think I can guess what that stands for.  The gear equating to "2" on a three-speed is marked "N," which, I learned, stands for "normal."  That strikes me as a very English way to view things and I like it.

It's also complete.  You'll notice a difference in the rendering of the bike as sold in 1951 and in my photo of it soon after coming home (below).

That cylinder on the seat tube is a battery pack.  It holds D batteries and powers the lights when the bike isn't in motion.  Rick wisely decided some of the wiring issues were outside his expertise, but included all the gear with the bike.  Now, I need to find someone less phobic than I about these kinds of tasks and put the bike back into original condition.  Next on the list is more authentic tires, but that's another story.

 

At last, cream Delta Cruisers

I've wanted cream tires for ages.  I've seen them on a number of favorite blogs and tried to order them several times.  Each time I tried, the supplier turned out to have none in stock and my order was canceled.  Apparently, they were much easier to come by in the 700c size.  I was looking for 26 x 1 3/8 to fit one of my vintage Raleighs, and those were scarcer than hen's teeth.

In fact, I'd given up on the idea of owning any for the time being.  I set my sights on Panasonic Col de la Vie tires instead -- and even started thinking they might be a better look.  While browsing for a deal on the Panasonics, I came across the Schwalbe Delta Cruisers from a supplier who claimed to have them in stock!

This is what they look like after a ride around the block.

I ordered them in a flash, half-scared that this supplier would run out before mine were shipped.

They came today, and I put them on Geordie, the 1971 coffee Superbe.  I like the look very much (although I suspect the gumwall Panasonics would have been a hit as well.)

I'm already a fan, if only for the fact that they were easy to install.  Some 26" tires are nearly impossible for me to mount.  My hands and thumbs ache for days after fighting them onto the rims.  I realize there is some degree of operator incompetency here, but still... these new tires went on the way I'd always assumed tires should.  A modicum of stretching/pushing to get the beads in place but no swearing, sweating and struggling.

After one ride around the block, they had picked up some gray road tint, but I've read that they reach a kind of static point in terms of discoloration.  In other words, they get a bit dirty and them stop getting dirtier... allegedly.  We'll see.  In any event, I can't imagine the sidewalls -- the only part anyone really sees -- getting all that dirty or being all that hard to clean.

Now, I've got at least one more Raleigh in need of new tires.  Do I snap up another pair of Schwalbes while I can, or do I go with the Panasonics?

Oh Amazon, how did you know?

If only my life were as interesting as Amazon and Tivo seem to think it is when they make "suggestions" for me.

A few weeks ago, I bought a pair of handcuffs from Amazon to use as a kind of café lock for my bikes.  The whole transaction was smooth, fast and successful.  I've already moved on to new projects and ideas.

Amazon, though, isn't ready for the fun to end.  They found my purchase intriguing, and have helpfully tried to find other products I might enjoy.  Take a look at what showed up in my "other items you might like" box this morning.

 

 Seriously.  Right there next to Sunlite inner tubes and Crane bells and whatnot sat this, uh, item.

Naturally, I clicked on it to have a closer look.  (If you're an Amazon user, you're ahead of me at this point and know where this is headed.) Yep, I had now  changed the equation on another feature, the "items you've looked at recently" box.  By the time I got back to Schwalbe tires, my suggestions included a number of intriguing, horrifying, mysterious and wince-inducing products I will not show here.  I will say only that I had no idea there existed such a variety of dilators, riding crops and speculums (specula?) on our planet. 


So, I've pretty much convinced Amazon that I'm that dude from the basement of the pawn shop in Pulp Fiction.  Nice day's work.

Velo Orange saddles

I've been on the fence for a while about the Velo Orange saddles.  I've read conflicting reports about their quality and how they stack up against Brooks saddles.  Eventually I saw one, the VO version of the B67, in person, and found it surprisingly stiff.  The smallish difference in price, I decided, was not worth the risk of ending up with an inferior product.

Two things happened that led me to revisit this decision. First, I noticed that my Brooks B67 had splayed pretty significantly after only a few hundred miles of use.  The saddle had flattened noticeably and my attempts to re-introduce tension via the adjustment bolt were, at best, only moderately successful.  I started to think that maybe the stiffer leather of the VO saddle wouldn't be such a bad thing after all.

Second, several models of the VO saddles went on sale.  Now priced at $65, these saddles (at least the model 8 and model 5) now featured a price gap that made them worth another look.  In fact, the sale brought them down to the same prices offered by the actual manufacturer, Taiwan-based Gyes.

Come to think of it, there was a third factor to my decision.  In roaming the Internet, I stumbled across someone's photos of a restored Superbe nearly identical to my 1971 coffee-colored favorite.  The restoration featured a Flyer saddle, one of the Brooks being mimicked closely by a Velo Orange model.

So, I went for it.  I bought a black and brown Model 8 (or 5?) which is supposed to replicate the Flyer.  I put the brown one on Blaise, my Mercier mixte, and the black one on Takumashi, my Nishiki Citisport.

Aesthetically, they're a hit.  The brown saddle is a much better look for the blue Mercier than was the honey B67 that was on there before.  It's a very pleasant brown and I have hopes it will age to look similar to the Ideale saddle that would have been on this bike originally.  The black saddle is more accurately described as a very dark brown.  I think it's a more interesting color than the uniformly black of the Brooks saddles I own. 

But when it comes to saddles, looks aren't everything.  The jury is still out on whether these saddles will become sufficiently comfortable.  After about 30 miles on each, the Nishiki is proving more adaptable to the change.  In both cases, there's no mistaking the fact that you are sitting on something very solid and pretty hard.  There is no noticeable "give" in either case. 

In the case of the Mercier, though, it's more pronounced.  I can feel both sit bones after about 5 miles, resting somewhat uncomfortably on a hard surface. 

This sensation, I believe, is due to the stiffer leather.  So, I'm giving it 100 miles or so before I rejoice or despair.  I figure the stiffer leather will take longer to break in, so I'm reserving judgment.  My fear, of course, is that the saddle is too narrow for the mostly-upright position I have on the Mercier.  If this proves to be true, I may adjust the stem and bars to achieve a more aggressive position and see how much this helps.  After all, it's not like I have a shortage of upright bikes.

Interestingly, the VOs feature a fabric-like lining on the underside of the saddle.  This would appear to guard against moisture and dirt, but I'm wondering if it will provide an unwanted barrier to the effects of Proofide.  I slapped a fair bit under there anyway, and we'll see if it helps hurry the break-in period along.

I'd be interested in any perspective or counsel my experienced readers have to offer.  If a saddle isn't a good match, do you know right away or is patience a virtue in these situations?