Today is the first day for the North American Handbuilt Bicycle Show. I’m going tomorrow for the Saturday exhibition and am thoroughly looking forward to it!

Hand-crafted, artisan bikes that I cannot afford—>GO!

I hope this year is as good as the last!

Today a dude came into my shop with a pretty alright looking old school track bike. Some nice bits on it, just in for a quick check-up. 

As I’m admiring his stem, I notice his headset is indexed. This is one of my favorites. The best part is, the guy thought it was intentional. The brinelling was dead straight ahead, meaning the handlebars/front wheel would ride perfectly straight when in this position (taking into consideration frame/fork/wheel straightness of course). He was under the impression that it was designed that way to allow a rider to ride hands-free during straight descents in order to remove their jacket or something.

He had  a great attitude about it. I didn’t make him feel stupid or anything (I hope I didn’t at least) and he walked out with a smile, knowing that he’ll need a new headset soon. I told him I didn’t think there’d be any harm in continuing to ride it, but there wouldn’t be much to be done for it but replacement. 

My friend Dan in Seattle has a bike or two with indexed headsets. One of which I know has multiple indices for very specific turn angles, from what I know, that dude wins races.

Check out the new Suntour Sprint pedals I recently had come my way. Sealed bearings on a nice chrome spindle. These pedals do not come factory with the Paramount toe clips, but this after-market accessory is a must for your pair. The enclosed toe box give your toes a snug, and protected fit while you’re sprinting ahead of the pack. Get yours when you can!

Yeah, Pedals!

No, these pedals are not new. Just pedals I bought off of a customer who brought his bike in for repair*. And that is what this post is about. 

Whenever a bike gets hung in my repair stand, it isn’t an opportunity to rid the owner of it or any of it’s nice components. I don’t think it exactly professional to treat a customer’s bike as something that’s expendable merely for your own pleasure or collection. As if their bike is not valued by them, whether or not they themselves are aware of it’s “true” value. I’ve worked on scores of bikes whose owners were completely ignorant of what they had, admittedly a tempting situation. But  it’s up to us to ingrain their bike’s value in them—get them to appreciate bikes more. They’ve come in to get their bike repaired, in order to ride it longer, if we are buying parts off their bike, how are they supposed to ride it?

* To be fair, I did get the above mentioned Suntour pedals from a customer’s bike—they’re a nice addition to my growing pedal collection. Is this hypocrisy? Not in my opinion, the caveat was this: the customer was intending on selling the entire bike at a yard sale. Had he not mentioned that fact, I would have kept my appreciation of the unique (to me) pedals as commentary only. I offered him a fair price with the inclusion of some replacement pedals for the bicycle’s debut at the yard sale—a pair of Low Fat Type ATB pedals. (Any idea what Low Fat Type pedals means?) Image link courtesy of Why Walk Pedicabs. 

Certain color combinations with wheelbuilds always yields a black heart and a black soul.

I’m not sure if that was ever a reference to anything other than gothic morbidity, but whenever anyone ever requested an all black wheel set at Wright Bros that gregarious german Hotte would utter the doomed words: “black heart, black soul.”

Some things stick in my head, and I’ve taken this utterance with me to the shop I’m at now. The above wheelset—NMSW Deep V in the rear, and a low profile Aerohead up front, built to the customer’s black IRO (Formula) hubs looks good. The order was placed and the nipple and spoke color choice was emphasized: black. 

I understood, and expected, the customer’s askance look at what I said next. Of course the dude wasn’t on the same macabre wavelength I was. There’s no reason such darkness should be inspired by a guy wanting a sexy new wheelset to match his sexy new track bike, by all means, black goes extremely well with orange. But nonetheless, we all harbor dismal thoughts down in the depths of our being, and therefore…

Black heart, black soul.

What does it mean to be in the trenches of this industry? Is this the lowest form of existence working in bikes? Are the messengers in the trenches? I’d say they’re maybe pretty close, but at least they have some celebrity appeal, and at least they get to ride regularly. And they get paid to ride. I know there’s more to it than that, but I’m speaking generally here. Being in the trenches is working hard for a bike shop, part of the pay being divided between a low wage and hands-on learning. Early on you’re learning the skills needed to work on a wide variety of bikes. This variety being from shitty beach cruisers and neglected department store bikes to high-end racing machines with every kind of bicycle, tricycle, or Rhodes car in between. I consider myself a pretty skilled mechanic, and yet I still work on every kind of bike that rolls in—no matter its relative high (or low) status. Dirty, malodorous, rusted-out trenches.

The trenches are where you find yourself when you’re working for next to nothing and coping with it. I’m thankful I have progressed beyond receiving “next to nothing” but I’m certainly not stacking high-yield bearer bonds neatly in any of my many safe deposit boxes, and certainly our meager grocery bill still tends to widen my eyes a bit. Being in the trenches is thinking it should get better financially, but don’t actually see how. The trenches are where you persevere in an industry for little pay because you enjoy the work you’re actually doing. Doing what one loves isn’t valued enough in this society it seems—it’s obviously not about the money. I love working on bikes, helping people with their bikes, and aiding people’s self-reliance with their self-propelled transportation. This is why I began in the trenches and think of the mechanic’s role, for the most part, as being in the trenches of the bike industry. There is no glamour, there is no paparazzi, and no magazines, centerfolds, or subversive media depicting the typical bike mechanic in a golden light. We generally seem overlooked by comparison to many other professions.

(This post has sat idle for too long and simply needed to be published. It’s been busy at the shop, and I’m exhausted. It’s unfinished at this point, consider this part I.)

Bicycling Magazine recently published an article about a bike shop in Oregon, The Wrench Connection. The shop was Sellwood Cycle Repair in Portland. The shop’s description is in stark contrast to where I’m at now, but sounds somewhat similar to where I came from. I agree with the author when he states that a mechanic “can fix everything from a beach cruiser to a $10,000 race  machine….” That’s the way it should be. It’s a decent article, the author sat as a customer and logged the happenings throughout a day. 

In recent past months, at the shop I’m at, it’s been slow. It’s winter. My blow-by-blow account of a recent day would probably be pretty boring. It’s a new shop, so I am busy, but it’s mostly organizational tasks, light construction, but a nearly absolute void of people walking in the door. This is changing at this early point of late winter. It’s changing probably quicker than I’ll be able to handle—I did just take in three repairs the other day and have a few wheels I need to build—this on top of plenty more preparatory inventory organization and the likely influx of after-winter repairs. If I tried to depict an account of a future expected day come spring or summer, it’d be difficult to recall anything specific throughout the flurry of action I can foresee. 

Yesterday’s intakes were interesting though, as seems to be the case, they all came in within two and a half minutes of each other. The first guy with his old ‘cross bike decked out with Campy Daytona wanted a basic tune-up. With minimal insistence from me he tacked on interrupter brakes, new cables, brake pads, bar wrap, hub overhaul, new saddle and stem. Being a salesman with customers like this is easy work. “I’ll gladly take care of it!” This kind of work is appreciated when there’s been such a dearth of decent bikes being rolled through the door.

What seemed like thirty seconds later two guys came in with their mountain bikes. One a Kona, who’s logo was described by his buddy as being initially inspired by a guy in a strip club. The logo supposedly depicting a stripper’s a**hole. I’m not so sure what the origin of that particular logo is, but I’m not interested enough in verifying that claim. Both bikes in for regular tune-ups, and again, voluntary part replacement requests. It was a good day, Kona guy gets a new rotor. His partner getting new higher end tires—on a bike with Magura hydraulic rim brakes. Rad, I don’t get to see stuff like that often.

These won’t be the end of them of course, and these won’t break my ass to complete; it’s nice to see the season change and the work load increase. Wrenching is the nicest part of the job, but all the other components (i.e. organization, construction, inventory) are just as interesting and necessary to the job. 

Back to the original magazine article: I’m oftentimes not a huge fan of Bicycling Magazine, but it’s cool to see something on the mechanic side of things from this perspective. While the tips given from the mechanics at the article’s shop aren’t exactly in agreement with some of my suggestions, it’s good to see them included. Mechanic’s tips vary for some reason from shop to shop, a subject I’d like to delve into in the future. This was a good article on the whole though, in comparison to the other recent article about another mechanic: I just think the editors could have pursued a much more interesting direction on the subject of a blind mechanic, but maybe I just don’t know.

It works, it just isn't very attractive. Image courtesy of QBP.

I just picked up a Shimano ‘08 catalog/tech document and am amazed at some of the stuff they’ve put out. Di2 on more than just Dura-Ace; many levels of Nexus and Nexave, and something called Capreo. I don’t think this is stuff that many people in the States are familiar with, it’s pretty cool gear. Di2 is regularly mentioned in regards to the new Dura-Ace electric shifting system, (something I think is a little overwrought and unnecessary—still I’d love a chance to work on it), but most of the references of Di2 (or Digital Integrated Intelligence) in this component catalog are describing a system that is aimed more towards the ultimate in comfort, accessibility for the disabled, and strict ease of use. We’re talking automatic shifting and digitally controlled suspension, all powered by a dynamo for “a completely environmentally-conscious system-ECOVISION”. Not something I’d necessarily want myself, but I am impressed nonetheless about the technical advancements of these systems; impressive complexity.

To name a few others: Capreo, designed for small bikes (i.e. foldables). The Alfine line is rad too—it’s an elegant system, internally geared without the ugliness of a twist shifter, (just my personal preference). DXR, Shimano’s BMX line that I wasn’t exactly aware of, “to meet the demands of today’s Olympic prospects.” Nice.

But what was most surprising I think was the few pages devoted to Tourney. A line that I thought really only comprised of big, fatty, obnoxious, rear derailleurs that were universally used replacements on crappy old bikes. Evidently there’s more to Tourney than I thought.

I guess before its current iteration, there were these Tourney center-pull brakes

The catalog goes on to describe the copious components within and the attributes of the Tourney line. Including roller brakes, cool. And MEGARANGE! these are those awesomely huge freewheels found on a lot of hybrid and comfort bikes. It’s rather telling on what kind of bikes you really find these Tourney groups after reading Shimano’s list of riding style classifications. Tourney is at the bottom of the MTB section, within the heading of “MTB look-alike”. This sounds a lot like one of my favorite acronyms, BSO, or Bicycle Shaped Objects. Interesting.

There’s a lot of good information in that manual, plenty more I need to read up on. It’s good to read catalogs and tech manuals to keep up to date with what’s out there. Most of the links in this post direct you to Shimano’s techdocs website, also a good resource.

Here’s one thing I didn’t find this in that ‘08 catalog, but it’s definitely a cool idea. Check out Yumeya too.

While at Wright Bros I didn’t have a lot of opportunity to assemble many new bikes out of the box. We didn’t sell complete bikes per se, I assembled many bikes there, more from the ground up though. The few “new” bikes I did put together at Wright Bros were completely disassembled and reassembled substituting the minimal factory grease with proper amounts, checked bolt tightness all over, greased cables, trued wheels, repacked hubs, etc. Pretty thorough.

Where I’m at now I try to assemble new bikes with a similar thoroughness, checking all elements of the “factory” assembly, but leaving some as is if they pass my inspection. I don’t place any little annoying stickers on components that “pass” however. Part of my inspection is thoroughly removing the stickers the manufacturing factory places all over the bike. Recently some of our Jamis bikes have arrived with little numbered stickers on the braking surface of the rims. Not a big deal to remove, just annoying. As are the ones on the wheel’s reflectors. Seems excessive, albeit contradictory when the handlebar reflector is dangling looses with a missing binder bolt. Where was Wang on that one?

This pedal can somehow "pass" inspection.

Assembling these bikes sometimes brings up questiona as to the manufacturing process. I’d love to visit one of these factories one day. Our Chinese or Taiwanese friends in the factory are thorough in sticker placement, but are oftentimes over-casual when it comes to actual working cable tension on the derailleurs. Or how about the time I assembled a Marin and noticed an oddly placed inspection sticker on the backside of the fork, below the headset. The dust seal was mangled and crimped, hanging half outside of the bearing. I guess the sticker was just to alert me to this mistake. Procuring a new dust seal and rebuilding the headset kept that bike off the showroom floor for a few days. With or without that sticker, I’m sure I would have noticed the crunchiness in the headset bearings. While not always this bad, nearly every manufacturer I’ve assembled have had some odd incongruities that needed correcting.

At Wright Bros, we would joke about the factory workers where the manufacturing is done. Blaming Wang with some Asian manufactured component, or Giuseppe with some Campagnolo hub (yeah, that never happened), or perhaps when we’d see a defect in a Velocity rim (once what looked like a small curly hair in the powdercoat): “Angus had one too many Foster’s on his lunch break, eh!” All in good fun of course.

It is up to us, the shop mechanics to vet these components and bikes. Making sure the end user is satisfied and safe with their purchase. This is why the bike boxes asserts that only a trained mechanic should assemble the bike. Yeah, and depending on the manufacturer, the box also says the tools required are merely two screwdrivers, and a crescent wrench. Believe me, I use more than three tools to dial these bikes in, and beyond tightening the reflectors, I don’t use any of those three.

That's it, two cable crimps, nothing else.

Yeah, bike assembly is an odd task sometimes. The things you find, the questionable “efficiency” in the factory process: two cable crimps in a taped bag all to themselves. A pedal without threads? Definitely dubious.

Two screwdrivers and an adjustable wrench

Working in a bike shop you quickly get excited about the delivery people. The UPS dude especially. UPS seems to be the standard method of shipping for most of the distributors, I’ve heard the term brown santa a couple times, and its true. It’s usually like Christmas morning once you start taking in the new inventory. Throwing the craft paper/bubble wrap/newspaper/whatever over your shoulder looking for that new component you ordered for yourself. Federal Express is just a bit less frequent and only a little less exciting. It’s probably different in other parts of the country maybe. 

One driver we frequently get, Jim with UPS, is a rad dude. When he can, he’ll hang out and chat a bit about this or that. Sometimes merely about the weather, or about coffee, other times (probably when he’s been cut off by a cyclist or something similar) he asks how we (bikers) do what we do in some specific manner depending on the circumstances I’m guessing. Pretty casual dude—nicely open-minded, but I can tell that while he’s interested, he doesn’t ride a bike too much. 

Getting a shipment of bikes is another story. It is exciting to open up a box with a new bike it it, but that wears off after the first few that you need to assemble. The delivery person though, that’s completely hit or miss; these shipments usually come from some miscellaneous charter company. The guy the other day was really nice and helpful. He actually used the tommy lift on the back of his truck, volunteered to take his pallet with him. This stands out by the numerous others that have affirmed that we’ll get charged more if he has to use the lift, while standing around looking bored, this dude insisted that me and my boss shoulder the full pallet that’s on the back of his truck four feet off the ground. Not wanting a blown-out back and a couple hand’s full of splinters, I told him to cut the plastic off and hand us the boxes if he wouldn’t mind. As he drove off, we noted the truck number and called the company to voice our opinion of their driver’s service.

Delivery days can be easy going sometimes and completely chaotic others. This time of year—like everything in the bike industry probably—always pretty casual. We’re approaching Spring, our orders are getting bigger, the chaos will be increasing soon enough. I can’t wait. If it’s really bad Jim’s just gonna have to settle for a smile and a howareya!

I forgot to metion one thing: probably more an explanation as to why. I started working at Wright Bros. because it seemed like a good fit with my background, but there was another reason. I was unemployed and needed work. Charles came through for me, but what also really happened was that I found I really enjoyed working on bikes. Working with my hands, getting dirty, learning new things everyday, figuring things out (the problem solving is close to my favorite aspect about wrenching). Above all, easily, is how much I enjoy the work is why I persist at it. One of the reasons I wanted to leave the print industry, and other jobs that would require excessive time working in front of a computer monitor, I didn’t enjoy it. And I feel doing something eight hours—or more—everyday should be something you enjoy

But I like it more than just an alternative to computer work. It is the hands-on mechanical problems I love. It’s the mental breakthroughs and physical manipulations that result in a difficultly arrived solution that make my day. It’s getting people on the road for the first time in years riding an old bike. It’s seeing that old bike out on the road again, and my having a hand in reviving it. It’s about realizing someone has trust in what I’m telling or advising them regarding their bike. It’s the self-reliance and seeing that self-reliance to promising “home” mechanics and other DIYers. It’s working on exquisitely crafted components or a nicely spec’ed out bike; modern gear and old school obscure equally. 

These are all the reasons why I wrench and why I want to continue to wrench. I get excited about these things!