After moving into a new house, my commute to work and into town changed a bit. It's three miles, with a slight grade, instead of a dozen blocks. I'm getting more mileage out of 700c road wheels than meaty 26" cruiser wheels. This fabulous GT Vantara dates itself by way of a one-inch headset, but came to me in perfect shape, not ever having been assembled. Biding its time in western Pennsylvania, thanks to the excellent pack-rat instinct of a fellow cyclist. It made its way here, tucked in the back of a Toyota motorhome, making the slow 7000 foot, 1800 mile climb back to Salida. There's always something brewing on a low flame in the back of my mind, and at this point the metaphorical kitchen timer went off. I've always been keen on internally-geared hubs, and three-speed hubs have been around for a long time. Since at least 1902. And sitting around at work, carefully saved, was a 1986 Sturmey-Archer 3 speed hub. Single speed and internal hubs tend to have a outer locknut measurement of 110-114 mm. They fit best into a frame where the rear dropouts, the part that holds the wheel by the axle, is a similar measurement. The Vantara, being from a more modern age and designed for external gears, measured at about 130mm. Now instead of having to bend the frame together every time I took the wheel off, I decided to do it once. "Cold-set" would be the technical term. "Crush gently with a set of oversized channel-lock pliers" is what occurred. Not bad; with a two-by-four wedged against the chainstay bridge, I was able to apply a nice parallel force to the dropouts, and arc the stays nicely. 4130 Chrome-Molybdenum is some beefy stuff, I've concluded. And the spacing lets the wheel drop right in. Without any clunky derailleurs, I could now mount the chromed Royal Enfield chainguard. From a 70's era Royal Enfield adult tricycle, believe or not. Mine was green, and during the Brooktondale Bikes moving/inventory reduction, it was last seen being ridden by three neighborhood kids having way too much fun. Unimpressive trike, but the chainguard was a keeper. The GT, being so gauche as to have no proprietary chainguard mounts, forced me in an extended moment of cleverness to attach it with rack hardware to the lower seat tube water bottle braze-on, and the bottom bracket cable guide bolt hole. Solid and rattle-free. And no rolling up the pant leg, or digging for an ankle strap. The GT shifts like an old pick-up truck; you have to coast between gears, and you have to wait for a clunk, or listen for the change in the gears clicking over, before starting to pedal. With the shift cable at proper tension, it becomes second nature. It's perfect.
Friday, January 18, 2008
The 3-Speed GT
After moving into a new house, my commute to work and into town changed a bit. It's three miles, with a slight grade, instead of a dozen blocks. I'm getting more mileage out of 700c road wheels than meaty 26" cruiser wheels. This fabulous GT Vantara dates itself by way of a one-inch headset, but came to me in perfect shape, not ever having been assembled. Biding its time in western Pennsylvania, thanks to the excellent pack-rat instinct of a fellow cyclist. It made its way here, tucked in the back of a Toyota motorhome, making the slow 7000 foot, 1800 mile climb back to Salida. There's always something brewing on a low flame in the back of my mind, and at this point the metaphorical kitchen timer went off. I've always been keen on internally-geared hubs, and three-speed hubs have been around for a long time. Since at least 1902. And sitting around at work, carefully saved, was a 1986 Sturmey-Archer 3 speed hub. Single speed and internal hubs tend to have a outer locknut measurement of 110-114 mm. They fit best into a frame where the rear dropouts, the part that holds the wheel by the axle, is a similar measurement. The Vantara, being from a more modern age and designed for external gears, measured at about 130mm. Now instead of having to bend the frame together every time I took the wheel off, I decided to do it once. "Cold-set" would be the technical term. "Crush gently with a set of oversized channel-lock pliers" is what occurred. Not bad; with a two-by-four wedged against the chainstay bridge, I was able to apply a nice parallel force to the dropouts, and arc the stays nicely. 4130 Chrome-Molybdenum is some beefy stuff, I've concluded. And the spacing lets the wheel drop right in. Without any clunky derailleurs, I could now mount the chromed Royal Enfield chainguard. From a 70's era Royal Enfield adult tricycle, believe or not. Mine was green, and during the Brooktondale Bikes moving/inventory reduction, it was last seen being ridden by three neighborhood kids having way too much fun. Unimpressive trike, but the chainguard was a keeper. The GT, being so gauche as to have no proprietary chainguard mounts, forced me in an extended moment of cleverness to attach it with rack hardware to the lower seat tube water bottle braze-on, and the bottom bracket cable guide bolt hole. Solid and rattle-free. And no rolling up the pant leg, or digging for an ankle strap. The GT shifts like an old pick-up truck; you have to coast between gears, and you have to wait for a clunk, or listen for the change in the gears clicking over, before starting to pedal. With the shift cable at proper tension, it becomes second nature. It's perfect.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Winter's Snowflakes
Wind, darkness, frigid temperatures and icy windshields are a typical start to my morning routine of leaving for work before the sun has rolled out of bed. When I think of winter, I feel the coldness creep into my bones. It's the summer sun, long days and dry, warm trails that I live for. Winter is about just making the best of it. And so, I do my best. Carving through a silent, powdery forest on my snowboard; walking the trail in our backyard with the dogs; dozing off in front of the woodstove--these moments of pure peace are the snowflakes glittering in the cold abyss of a moonlit night sky. In gratitude, I open my mouth and let them melt on my tongue, one by one.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)