Todd’s Swanky Bike

I'll never own a car if I can help it. Early in 1999, I decided that I could justify assembling the most commodious and delightful bike imaginable - a bike for all-hours, all-weather transportation in hilly San Francisco, loaded touring, travel, fun, hauling kegs and cat litter, and just about anything else not involving excessive risk of theft. I took my best shot, and have been riding it for several mostly joyous, theft-free weeks at this writing. It doesn't have a name; neither do your shoes. But I figure it needs a Web page:

The bike has a lot of rare — possibly unique — design features that other bike geeks, confirmed and potential, might find interesting. The photo above is mapped; click for close-ups and commentary, or just keep reading for all of it.

Design influences have come from my own riding history, coveted exemplars, and to an extraordinary degree, from Web pages and other internet resources about bikes. This document acknowledges these many online sources, whose authors may be amused to see how effective the internet has become as a vehicle of bike culture, or perhaps appalled at the vanity to which it has inspired me.

The article "Commuting/Touring Bicycles" provides a good orientation point: I wanted a touring bike. Neither delicate and speed-optimized like a racer, nor heavy, slow, and fashion-addled like a mountain, cruiser, or "hybrid" bike. I also knew that I was going to be particular enough about components that I wanted to build the bike up from the frame - not buy a complete bike, however fine. I began reading about frame fit and design. Plenty of good stuff on the Web about it, for starters:

• http://www.peterwhitecycles.com/fitting.htm
• http://www.sandsmachine.com/bp_riv.htm
• http://www.bgcycles.com/essay.html

Comparing observations in these pieces (and many more fragmentary references) with the particulars of other bikes I had ridden, I came away with the following notions:

• Higher bars improve comfort without hurting aerodynamic efficiency, provided that they're far enough forward of the seat
• A shallow seat tube angle supports a long reach to the bars more comfortably than a steep one
• Long wheelbases are more comfortable. This means long chainstays, a long top tube, short stem reach, and/or a shallow head tube angle.
• Low bottom brackets improve handling
• 26" wheels let you have shallow head and seat tube angles without sluggish steering or toe overlap, help lower the bottom bracket, and are stronger for a given weight than 700cc.
• About 60mm of trail provides a nice balance between stability and responsiveness in steering.

With these things in mind, I visited a Java CAD program and started playing. I also looked at the published geometries of several bikes that seemed to offer the ride characteristics I was after.

Saddle

Brooks B17 Special, Honey, from Rivendell. I also own a Brooks Conquest, from Wallingford Bicycle Parts, now on my #2 bike. Don't believe the stories about these saddles being hard to break in. They're extremely comfortable almost from the start, and, to my eye, incomparably handsome. Why a "hard" saddle? Because the more and softer padding you have on your saddle, the more there is to compress up into your tender parts, cutting off the circulation. A supportive saddle for your sit bones, that elevates the plumbing off the surface, is a comfortable saddle.

Seatpost

Nitto one-bolt, from Rivendell. Simple, pretty. Cut down to shave some weight.

Rack

Nitto Cro-Moly, from Rivendell, fillet brazed and nickel plated. Enough said. I don't like black-finish components.

Mudguards

Esge plastic, silvery and more flexible than, say, Zefal. Would have gone for hammered aluminum or even wood, but those seem not to be available for 26" wheels. I had some mounting difficulties, which have added to the weight and complicate breakdown for travel. See Problems.

Pump

Silca, Campagnolo head, from American Cyclery. Pretty, does the job, fits nicely out of the way. The frame's got a pump peg on the back of the seat tube near the bottom bracket.

Rear Light

Vistalite VL-300X LED, form factor available again after an apparent hiatus, this time with three modes. Cheap, very bright, batteries last absurdly long. From Lickton's.

Seat stays

Segmented (5-piece) wishbone, echoing the segmented fork. A whimsical Sycip touch, the stay ends are capped with pennies, adding $0.02 to the value of the frame. I've got my birth year (1966) and an old wheat-stalk type. Newer pennies melt, else I would have used a 1999. This construction minimizes stay flex when braking, and, according to Jeremy Sycip, provides a stiffer rear triangle for less wobbling under load. I haven't had the panniers heavily loaded yet, but I have had about 70lb in the BOB trailer hooked up, and it felt quite solid. And this with 45cm chainstays.

Dropouts

Paul Components rear-entry, handsome billet, with eyelets added. Part of the complicated drivetrain story.

Rims

Mavic X517, 32-hole, 3-cross front and 2-cross rear, built into wheels by me with the help of Jobst Brandt's The Bicycle Wheel. Wheelbuilding is almost fun, and pretty rewarding. Some would say that these numbers are too low for loaded touring, but I think that assumes traditional 700cc wheels, typical hubs, and the rear wheel dished. With 26" rims, extra-high hub flanges, and no dish, I figure these are plenty strong.

Crankset

Campagnolo BMX, 170mm. Designed for one chainring, low "Q", "Nuovo Record" classic milled styling, gold anodized to complement the green frame warmly. From Pedal Revolution, in town. A 123mm Phil Wood cartridge bottom bracket works with these cranks to produce the right chainline for the Rohloff Speedhub. I replaced the original, fat 43-tooth ring with a 49-tooth narrow one to get the right range and to have the same width teeth as the hub sprocket.

Pedals

MKS Sylvan Touring, from American Cyclery. Pretty, supportive, cheap, classic, and a good match for Power Grips. Power Grips get no respect. Is it just because they're cheap? Having ridden with both clips and SPD, I can't quite figure out why Power Grips haven't taken over the world yet. I'm hooked for life. You can get as much or as little binding to the pedals as you want, instantaneously, and you can wear any shoes you want - even dress shoes that clips would mar. I believe I thought of the twist-grip idea independently in the 80's, when I was using clips. I toyed around with making my own out of rawhide, but settled for obliterating the cheesy "POWER GRIPS" logotypes. This is a (nearly) ad-free bike. Bonus: because the bottom bracket is low, and the pedals wide, cornering clearance can be an issue. The Power Grips strap ends hang down off the outer leading edge of the pedal, meaning that they strike earth first, giving a harmless audible warning to ease up. Like curb feelers on an old Cadillac.

Bottle cage

Nitto fillet-brazed steel, from Rivendell, gorgeous, extravagant, my left pant leg keeps hooking on it and pulling it out of shape. That blue bottle came free with the deluxe water I bought in it - so much nicer looking than the usual ugly opaque sort, and no ads.

S&S Machine Bicycle Torque Couplings

Unscrew the couplings and the bike collapses to fit easily in a compact car's trunk. Remove the wheels and the whole thing fits in a standard luggage-size collapsible backpack case, with room to spare for gear and clothes, for easy air, rail, or boat travel, storage, etc. I have this imminently realizable fantasy about riding to the airport, breaking it down, getting on a plane to wherever, screwing it back together, touring for a week or so, and riding back. All to the freakish amazement of folks milling around in the diesel fumes. Joel Metz is way ahead of me here. See the S&S site for more.

Lighting

Schmidt Dynohub with Lumotec halogen headlamp, from Peter White Cycles

Stem

Nitto Technomic, soon to be replaced by a Sycip custom in matching color, as soon as the powdercoat guy gets around to finishing it. The moustache bars call for a high, short stem. Shorter stems tend to quicken the steering, and, all things being equal, allow for a longer wheelbase.

Brakes

Shimano XT V-type, 1999, with Dia-Compe 287-V levers. I chose V-brakes over traditional cantilevers because they offer the simplest cable routing both visually and mechanically, easier setup and adjustment, outstanding stopping power, and they look nice, too. Contrary to contrary reports, the modulation is fine, but all in the range of "light, lighter, lightest" - you can stop from 20mph in about 2 seconds with your little finger on the front brake alone if you must. These results might have something to do with the stiff/beefy seatstays and forks. The levers are specialized for linear-pull brakes - the only road type available at this time. They come with thumb-adjustable noodles, to replace the non-adjustable Shimano originals.

This is my fifth bike in 14 years, one of two I currently own. My past bikes influenced

My first bike (not counting department-store types) was a 1986 Cannondale racer, black and white, very stiff, nimble, and wonderfully simple. I was young and fit enough not to suffer too much from its speed-oriented design priorities. Though fat-tube aluminum bikes were new, everything else about the bike was classic - downtube friction shifting, lugged crown steel fork, toeclips, etc. I rode it all over Germany on multi-day tours, centuries, and even entered a criterium (fast urban lap) race with it in Fulda. I finished at the head of the pack of those who had no chance. When I sold it in 1991, I thought I might never ride avidly again - that my youth was over and all that. What I didn't know was that I really just needed a more comfortable bike.

In grad school in Boston, I bought another bike, in part as distraction from my ill-chosen studies. It was unusual — a 26"-wheeled Nishiki Saga with slick tires, drop bars, bar-end shifters, and a garish paint/decal job. I remember a "Cunningham design" decal on it. I rode it hard through the Winter of '92-3, schlepping groceries from Bread and Circus to my dorm room (where I distracted myself further by roaming the Internet on a Mac Classic at 2400 baud - what a dead-end, huh?). The stout cro-mo steel rang a bit jarringly over rough stuff, but I liked it a lot, and the exercise helped fend off depression - not a good year. Then a thief broke my U-lock.

Nearly broke, I went bikeless for 2 years, when I bought another Cannondale in Brooklyn - this time a hybrid. I was pretty out-of-shape from a sedentary, 80-hour week work life, so welcomed the change to a more upright position and wide gearing, but I rode it only once a week maybe. I don't know what I was thinking, but I rode it over the Manhattan Bridge late one freezing night - shoulderless steel grate the whole way. Only after moving in 1996 to San Francisco, whose public transport sucks, did I begin to ride it regularly.

I began to futz with the Cannondale hybrid. It wasn't too comfortable on San Francisco's scarred streets. I got a flex-stem. I got a Brooks Conquest saddle. I got swept-back handlebars. I got fenders, a computer, lights, bags, bottles, a new wheel and tires. It was becoming a frankenstein bike, but I was riding it more and more, and on longer weekend rides into the city's beautiful surrounding areas. (It was this - riding into the country - that finally made me stop missing the East coast so often. Nobody can complain about the weather here, but you can't appreciate it unless you're out in it, either.)

I was almost up to the fitness level of my years in Germany with the racing bike. Once, in fact, on Market Street downtown, I found myself beside a guy riding the exact same bike I had owned back then. I felt so much dorkier on my hot-rod hybrid. I got all misty, and nearly offered to buy it from him on the spot

I became obsessed with adjustment issues. I became convinced that the bike didn't really fit me, and read lots of corroborating stuff about the self-defeating compromises of hybrid frame design[1]. I got moustache bars and bar-end shifters, and was going to get yet another stem when the guy at American Cyclery convinced me that I'd be happier with a relaxed steel frame - an underappreciated, cheap, uglily painted, excellently lugged steel Koga Miyata light touring frame. Besides, I could build it up with most of the upgraded parts from the Cannondale. He was right - the Koga's now my sweet second bike - but by that time I had already commissioned a custom frame for the Wonder Bike, and was gathering parts from mail-order and local shops (that is, from those local shops who are not too rudely jealous of customers who spread their business around this way).