Something old, something new and blue derailleur housing: the Giant Escape

Giant Escape on Blue Ridge Road, Peoria County, Illinois

In the early 1970s, I bought a coaster-brake axle and some grease and disassembled the hub of my Sears Hawthorne bicycle.

I don’t remember having anything to do with wrenches before that. Instead, I was into woodworking. Specifically, modifying a narrow, triangular treehouse at my grandparents’ house outside Joplin, Missouri. Though built and rebuilt by a cousin and me over the years, the treehouse always fulfilled its design brief: not falling apart under a visitor’s weight.

You don’t have to spend a lot of money to get a good saddle. The Henge Sport is at or near the bottom of Specialized’s line. Note how the horizontal tail light, a Light and Motion Vibe Pro TL, tucks in below the saddle bag.

Similarly, the hub repair met the basic goal of getting me back in the saddle.

This was a significant milestone in my repair journey. Maybe it was because bicycles move and treehouses do not (again, unless they are designed to fail). Bicycles move through the landscape; treehouses are just one part of that landscape.

I wanted to move.

Eventually I became a bicycle mechanic. In other words, I got paid to work on bicycles.

The cassette starts at 11 teeth and bottoms out at 42. To get the SRAM X9 to go along with this range, the B-limit screw was reversed.

Today, I’m in bicycle sales, not in wrenching on them. But I continue to fiddle with my own bicycles. Those are the rules. You get paid to deal with bikes you don’t own so you can spend money dealing with bikes you do own.

Take this Giant Escape, for instance. I picked it up after someone backed over it with a car, maybe a tractor. The frame and fork were unharmed, but the wheels, saddle, handlebars and stem were trashed.

It doesn’t make economic sense to have someone fix an inexpensive bike this far gone. But if you’d been hoping for a platform to experiment with single-chainring drivetrains, well, it doesn’t make sense then, either.

Which is why, of course, I had to do it.

I bought a saddle, chainring, chain, cassette and, after experimenting with a modified Shimano bar-end shifter, SRAM Apex brifters.

The crank arms are around 20 years old, but the Wolf Tooth chainring–designed specifically for 1X drivetrains–is new, as is the Shimano 10-speed chain and cassette.

But it wasn’t a total money pit.

Bushwhacker coworker RJ gave me the rear derailleur. Duncan gave me the crank arms. The wheels came from a Giant Cypress (broken frame). Tires, tubes, cables, pedals and other miscellanea were pulled from here and there in my basement.

Success: a gravel grinder I can call my own.

A third coworker, somebody who really knows bikes inside and out, paid me a huge compliment when he said, “You know, that almost looks like something.”

Yeah, Russ: something that moves.

Posted in Becoming a bicycle, Bushwhacker, Giant | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Cutting through Shimano-SRAM compatibility nonsense

I once came across a claim that a properly sharpened screwdriver was an indispensable tool.

Maybe you’ve done this: File a v-channel into the tip of a screwdriver, which keeps it from slipping off the spring of a single-pivot sidepull brake spring. Then tap the other end of the screwdriver and, voila, the brake moves to one side, which centers the brake shoes on either side of the rim.

If you haven’t done it, it works. It’s brutal, but it works.

Like that idea? Here’s one for derailleurs. And good news, it’s more brutal.

Shimano bar ends don’t normally have enough travel to fully motivate a SRAM derailleur across 10 cassette cogs–the parts feature different cable-pull lengths.

Solution? Remove the cove above the lever of a nine-speed bar-end shifter. Now the lever can point at the sky as well as the ground, and you have something that plays nice (in friction mode) with a SRAM 10-speed rear derailleur.

All it takes is a hacksaw, though if you have the time you might add a little judicious file work for the sake of aesthetics.

Or you can do what I eventually did and install a SRAM Apex brake-shift unit. It doesn’t offer a friction mode but it’s so good otherwise you’d think it was made for the job.


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The Review on Purpose: H.G. Wells’ The Wheels of Chance


The Wheels of Chance, A Bicycling Idyll
By H.G. Wells
Illustrations by J. Ayton Symington
The Macmillan Company, copyright 1896, 321 pgs.

The Wheels of Chance is the story of an English draper’s assistant—a salesperson who sells cloth to housewives–and his adventures on a 10-day cycling holiday in 1895.

Or, as I like to think of it, it’s the story of how a relatively poor salesperson not only gets a 10-day vacation, but also trades up to a much better bicycle at relatively little cost.

The salesperson, Hoopdriver, is a bicycling novice and so his first adventure is the machine itself. One example should suffice:

“Mr. Hoopdriver…resolved to dismount. He tightened the brake, and the machine stopped dead. He was trying to think what he did with his right leg whilst getting off. He gripped the handles and released the brake, standing on the left pedal and waving his right foot in the air. Then—these things take so long in the telling—he found the machine was falling over to the right. While he was deciding upon a plan of action, gravitation appears to have been busy. He was still irresolute when he found the machine on the ground, himself kneeling upon it, and a vague feeling in his mind that again Providence had dealt harshly with his shin. This happened when he was just level with the heathkeeper. The man in the approaching cart stood up to see the ruins better.”

img_7947.jpgHe soon meets the Young Lady in Grey, an accomplished rider and, to judge by her rationals (a divided skirt or bloomers), a forward-thinking New Woman. She is accompanied by “the other man in brown,” the lower-cased predator of the story.

The villain is little different from the predators of our time or any time, though way less handsy. His story begins when he accompanies the Young Lady as she rides away from a home she finds suffocating. (His wife’s story is pretty much limited to the mention of her existence.)

But the Young Lady, being as perceptive as she is young and naïve, quickly realizes she’s in trouble. As our narrator relates:

“She was pale, divided between fear and anger. She perceived she was in a scrape, and tried in vain to think of a way of escape. Only one tangible thing would keep in her mind, try as she would to ignore it. That was the quite irrelevant fact that his head was singularly like an albino cocoanut.”

Don’t worry, the cocoanut is gone halfway through the book–and so is his bike, as Hoopdriver takes it in the rush to help the Young Lady escape. Instead of a heavy old cushion-tired bike, our hero now rides a lightweight safety with air-filled tires.IMG_7948

But while the pair gives the other man in brown the slip, they can’t escape their former lives. Not because of the rescue party chasing them (though now that the cocoanut is out of the picture, they finally are) and not because the narrator tells you it’s going to happen (though he does), but because neither rider has enough money to sustain the pleasant journey from country inn to country inn.

Yes, even in a fictional romance of latter-day knight errantry, money makes the wheels go ‘round—by hook or crook.

Or chance.

The Wheels of Chance was published in the 1890s, the same decade as The Time Machine, The Island of Doctor Moreau, The Invisible Man and The War of the Worlds.

Though Wheels is less known today than Wells’ other books, its publication at the tail-end of the nineteen century couldn’t have been better timed.

Bicycle sales were booming. Bicycle riders traveled far and wide—and pushed for improved roads in Britain and the United States. In 1896, as Carlton Reid mentioned in his excellent 2014 book, Roads Were Not Built For Cars, the League of American Wheelmen was enough of a political force that it “had its own room in the campaign headquarters of the Republican Party.”

Literacy was widespread and attention spans were long. Good thing, too.

IMG_7946The first sentence of
The Wheels of Chance contains 92 words, one parenthetical aside, two opinions set off by long hyphens, an abbreviation nestled within quotation marks and the needless announcement of the beginning of the story.

On the second page the narrator builds up expectations by saying of the protagonist, “Now if you had noticed anything about him, it would have been chiefly to notice how little he was noticeable.” And in case you think, well, he might be a little interesting, the paragraph balloons to 334 words to underscore his invisibility.

In short, the book favors readers who welcome narrative digression. For instance:

“The human nose is, at its best, a needless excrescence. There are those who consider it ornamental, and would regard a face deprived of its assistance with pity or derision; but it is doubtful whether our esteem is dictated so much by a sense of its absolute beauty as by the vitiating effect of a universally prevalent fashion.”

Some might say The Wheels of Chance is a page-turner in the sense that you have to turn pages to read it. Even I might say that. But it’s worth having on the bookshelf.

That’s because it’s a bicycle book of a bicycle time, one of the last documents created in a world without cars, written when roads—the last truly open roads—had room for enthusiastic people in charge of simple machines tracing paths in “voluptuous curves.”

And there is plenty of value in that.

“He did not ride fast, he did not ride straight, an exacting critic might say he did not ride well—but he rode generously, opulently, using the whole road and even nibbling at the footpath. The excitement never flagged. “




Posted in book, History | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

Building better signs

It’s fun to ride a gravel bike. Unless, that is, you’re focused on the idea that some roads are really supposed to be blacktop.

Like Santa Fe Road in Hallock Township. 

Back in the spring, workers turned three sections of the road into gravel. Residents along the way probably thought the road would be completed within days.

I did.

Then the sign went up. And dirt rose with every passing vehicle. The obvious solution to the problem?

Fix the sign.

So, instead of Road Construction Ahead, which at this date seems wildly promissory, I offer the following suggestions for a replacement:

  • Roll Up Windows Next Two Miles
  • Abandon All Hope Ye Who Pass This Way
  • Gravel Bike Infrastructure is Big!
  • Indiana Is Working on Something a Couple Hundred Miles Ahead
  • Whatever You Do, Don’t Call Us
  • If There’s One Level of Government You Can Do Without, It’s the Township
  • Welcome to Illinois
Posted in Infrastructure, Report from the road, Sekai 2500 | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment

Aside by side

I don’t usually spend this much time developing a well-researched, thoughtful and detailed essay on SUV marketing, popularity and distribution, but jeebus, Toyota.


Posted in Co-Motion tandem, Report from the road | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

Day 30. #30daysofbiking

If we give objects too much power, and we do, it’s because we invest them with memory.

So, what’s this bicycle about?

Chicago steel. Peoria rust. A four-year-old falling off a trike and, after getting patched up and reassured by a woman who no longer offers such reassurances, getting back on.

It’s about standing up to climb. A drum brake that works. A coaster brake that doesn’t.

It’s about sitting in a basement in a puddle that forms and evaporates every year for thirty years.

Remarkably enough, it’s about Benny Goodman. A 5,000-square-foot dance hall north of Peoria. And Dave Brubeck. It’s always about Brubeck and time.

Feel free to take five right now.

It’s about knowing there’s no such thing as a headwind if your entire upper body enters the wind at once.

It’s about other people’s memories. The stories we tell ourselves. The poet reminding us nothing gold can stay.

It’s about how to move forward, to maintain momentum.

It’s about to rain.

Posted in #30daysofbiking, Report from the road, Schwinn Corvette | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

Day 29. #30daysofbiking

Only one person is judging the effect of wind on play today.

This person is focusing on his core competency.

Making a couple of adjustments. (No different from any other law-abiding citizen.)

And considering the fact that when this frame was new, Nixon was not a crook.

Of course there are plenty more things that Nixon is not now.

Posted in #30daysofbiking, Report from the road, Schwinn Sports Tourer | Tagged , , , , | 4 Comments