My first bicycle opened a new world to me, one where range was measured by will and pedal revolutions, not steps; the only objective was seeing how far out I could push my range. First, to the border of our community, then to the nearest gas station, and on it went. It was a big yellow contraption with 10 speeds – twelve if you count “crashed” and “out of control”, which were the two most commonly used of the lot.
I didn’t know I could customize it. I assumed all saddles were steel with a foam and plastic coating, just as I assumed all brakes were ornamental beyond producing a screech that served to deter dog attacks. When the seat became too low, I declared that the bike no longer fit; I had no idea I could raise the saddle.
That bike was a Sears Moonlight Special, and I am quite sure it was made of solid lead pipes and had steel wheels. The bars were possibly wrapped in asbestos. I don’t wish I still had it, but I wish I still had my second bike. She was a beauty; a Raleigh with a gorgeous Weinmann group and a stunning metallic paint of brown and black, a color combination that every tailor on Savile Row will tell you is the most beautiful. Fitting, then, that it was an English bike.
At first, all I wanted was to rid the bike of her unsightly brake cables that jutted from the brake levers in the traditional way. This was the late eighties, and all brake levers on modern bikes were “aero” (under the tape). So I bought some DiaCompe levers and set about changing them out. A friend at County Cycles in Saint Paul, Minnesota (famous for being the place where Johnny Cash met “Her“) convinced me to buy some Benotto bar tape, and I spent the next few days basking in the amazement of my ability to single-handedly alter the look of my machine so dramatically. (Indirectly, my test rides also taught me about tightening cable bolts enough.)
This experience opened me up to the notion that every bike can be adapted to serve our needs. Every bike has a soul, and every soul has a bike. It could be our #1, or it might just carry us to work, or down to the farmers market. But like a dog with it’s pack, it’s happy so long as it knows its purpose, its reason for being – and has the opportunity to fulfill that purpose. And whenever we help a bike find its purpose, it bonds to our soul and never leaves us.
You need vision to see a bike’s purpose, and Grant Peterson might be the greatest bicycle visionary; he lived La Vie Velominatus long before we put that term to paper. He sees opportunities in bicycles without judgement; it doesn’t have to be a racer, or a tourer, or a trail bike – it just has to ride well and be fun. He’s been an inspiration since I learned about Bridgestone bikes, and his vision continues with Rivendale Bicycle Works. When time came for him to design a hybrid bike, he chose mustache bars with race-inspired geometry in the belief that just because it’s hybrid doesn’t mean it shouldn’t ride well. I’m proud to walk in his footsteps.
The Nederaap CX-V may have served her run as my main CX/Graveur, but she lives on as the loyal steed carrying me to and from the grocery store, the markets, post office, pub, and any manner of fun and casual expeditions around town. I don’t kit up, I don’t pump up the tires (although I do thumb-check the pressure, I’m not a savage), I don’t plan the route. I just get on, and I ride. And she rides great, is fun, and gobbles up single track just the same as she does tarmac. It makes no difference to her, I just jump on and start pedaling like I did when I was a kid. That’s good old-fashioned fun.
Plus, now I can enter the Commuter Grand Prix.
[dmalbum path=”/velominati.com/content/Photo Galleries/frank@velominati.com/CX-Mustache/”/]
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@Frank, Pretty sure April isn't for another six and a half months.
25mm - thats not a tyre,
now THATS a tyre !
Bugger, picture didnt upload. above post wasted without pic.
Move along - nothing to see here
Mustache bars, fenders and racks?
I'm looking forward to my invitation to the Inaugural Velominati Tweed Ride Cogal.
@Ken Ho
You've got spirit, you'll figure it out eventually.
If you taper down on all the assumptions and stop celebrating yourself, it will probably happen faster.
@EricW
CLASSIC.
@scaler911
Its still my CX setup from last year. 42/39.
@VeloVita
That thing is totally rad.
@PeakInTwoYears
Yeah, you can get forward like the Pineapple if you want some leverage, but sitting on the ends feels a lot like a classic Dutch bike, if you've ridden one. Except the saddle doesn't feel like a toilet seat.
@frank
Thanks! I happened to be out for a walk with my girlfriend (now wife) and some guy was putting this bike along with a 1984 Schwinn something or other out on his tree lawn. I asked what he wanted for them and he said I could have them if I just got them off his lawn. Both had flat tires and were in far less than pristine condition. The Schwinn was something like a size 62-64 so I pushed that one and my girlfriend pushed this bike the 3k back to our apartment. That's when I knew she was a keeper! I stripped it down completely, had the frame and fork powdercoated black since the paint wasn't great and there was a little surface rust I wanted to take care of, got a new seatpost, saddle, bars, wheels/tires, cassette and chain and then added the toe clip straps and bottle cage. The components were the same on both bikes so I just picked the best from each frame when putting this back together. I donated the other frame to the local bike co-op, where I learned to put this one together since it wasn't in as good of shape and at the time I thought it was too large for me, but now I'm wishing I should have kept it since I wouldn't have needed such a large saddle-bar drop and reach.
@frank
Your first bike was a 10 speed. My first10 speed was a long way from my first bike, and I thought it was the pinnacle.
My first bike was a single speed Dragster. I was about 4 or five, I think. It was too big for me and I could not touch the ground? , I had to get an adult or older sibling to push start me. Once I was going, I could not stop. Imenna really, I could not stop. A little later, I learnt to prop it against teh clothes line, and get going that way. To stop, I learned to cruise in and dock at something else to prop myself up on. I don't recall crashing it though. I was always good on it.
Later I got a flash new red Dragster, which I lived on. I leant to counter-steer on that one! Hammering down the side if an asphalt tennis court in our blistering summer sun, and pitching it into a turn at tHe last second, with teh pedals scraping the ground, even when in the correct position. I crashed it a few times though, always testing the limits. I never broke it though. Bikes were built to last back then. I could not count the hours I spent riding in my childhood.
When I got the 10 speed racer, my horizons expanded even further. I don't think my parents ever drove me anywhere again. They split when I was 15, and I had left school and was working by then. I rode everywhere. I was living alone by 16 and that bike was my only transport. I rode it 15km each way to work each day, did my shopping, and if I went anywhere, i rode. I even used it to move my SCUBA gear around. Imagine a full scuba rig piled on the rear carrier , and me, with spirit, riding 10 miles to and from a dive site.
It never broke either, but I think I wore out a few bits and some tyres.
Im glad, at 50, that you think there is hope for me to understand cycling.
The only assumption that I make, is that Internet acquaintanceship's are probably misleading. I am under the disadvantage of living on a different continent, and have met none of you in person.
I'm also an Anglo-Saxon, and more Saxon than Angle, and the Germans and Dutch have never gotten along.
Im an inclusive, non-judgemental person, and am not a fiddler. I tend more to the "ride it like you stole it" style of thinking. Still, I like your writing, and your passion, so I'll keep reading.
Auf Weidersein.
@frank