Remember when you were a kid, and you were so enamored of your bicycle that you wanted to ride it everywhere? And your mother said, "No bikes in the house!" Well, maybe it's the little kid in me who was denied the joy of bringing his bike into the house, but there's something about having a bicycle inside that makes me very happy. I'm lucky enough to have a safe, sheltered place to keep my bikes outside of the house, but I brought the Huffeigh up for a bit of cleaning and adjustment tonight, and I've been enjoying having it in the living room as an objet d'art.
I also take inordinate satisfaction in cleaning, checking, and adjusting all the little bits. Especially with old bikes, which can sometimes be temperamental, it's important to do monthly or weekly safety checks. Because I rebuilt both of these wheels myself, I'm a little paranoid about the wheels, so I check spoke tension and rim trueness, and I'm perennially making adjustments to the brakes. There's something about checking in with the bike, doing all the little maintenance things, that gives me a great deal of satisfaction. It stems, I think, from what motivated me to get into old bikes in the first place: getting to truly know and understand and maintain your own form of transportation. There's something very simple and yet very liberating about that.
Photos from the First Annual San Diego Tweed Ride, in which my wife and I rode (sort of, see link below) with our 1955 Huffy Sportsman and 1977 Schwinn Suburban. It even rained, which is pretty rare here.
A very nice photo of my 1955 Huffy/Raleigh Sportsman by Adrienne of
Change Your Life, Ride a Bike! Thanks Adrienne!
I've been away on vacation, so haven't been posting for a while. Now I'm back, so I'll try to get a post up every once in a while. Summer is a hard blogging season, 'cause I'm out actually doing stuff and have less time to write about it.
Thought I'd share this photo of my wife and I taken on this month's Mid-City Bike Blast ride, which toured community and private food gardens in the City Heights area of San Diego. It was a great ride. In the photo, I've gallantly offered my cycling cap to my wife, who was worried about sunburn, flipped up my collar, and soldiered-on. We actually look pretty happy, no?
Original photo (and others from the ride) here.
I'm a bit slow in getting this posted, but John and I have been exchanging emails as he has been busy resurrecting this lovely 1955 Huffy/Raleigh Sportsman he found on Craigslist-- just like mine, only red. Notice the Raleigh-style fork that has been added to replace the original. John finished his work very quickly, especially considering this was his first old bike project. He has lots more photos of his process
here.
Balboa Park and its satellite neighborhood parks are so vast, we could have a picnic every weekend for a year and never have it in the same place twice. We just might!
As my bicycle stable has, well, stabilized for the time-being, I'm finding that I do not love all my children just the same. I find myself drawn to the Huffeigh even for errands that might better belong to either the Columbia or the Schwinn.
Two nights ago, I ran to the market for beer, a half-gallon of milk, and one of those little watermelons. It ended up being quite a heavy little load of stuff. Instead of taking the Columbia or the Schwinn, which are better-equipped to take this kind of load, I couldn't resist the stately allure of the Huffeigh, with its new Brooks saddle and cork grips and bell and gleaming black paint. I was a little surprised to find that the whole disproportionately heavy load fit quite nicely into the little basket I've mounted on the rear rack, and I had no trouble at all.
The bikes have also fallen into clear roles: the Columbia is the work-horse, the grocery bike, the long-hauler. It sits me forward a bit more, the saddle is higher, and I feel like I pedal it more efficiently -- better for hard work. The Runwell, which has been idle for some time awaiting new tires, is always going to be the older gentleman who doesn't get out much, I'm afraid. And the Schwinn, well, the Schwinn is quite comfortable, but ungainly and heavy.
But the Huffeigh is just the right combination of all three: it can carry a load, it's sufficiently old, and it's very comfortable. I just like it, is all. So now we're about to go on a picnic, and although I probably should take one of the other bikes, I think it's going to be the Huffeigh again.
Or, the trouble with buying leather saddles of largely unknown age and condition on eBay.
Be fairly warned. Towards the end of Sunday's Down Townies ride, my used Brooks B72 broke; tore apart right at the nose rivets. It wasn't dramatic or painful, and I knew exactly what happened right away. At least I was able to put a few dozen miles on it before it broke. And, fortunately enough, I had hinted strongly to my wife of my desire for a new Brooks B66 as a graduation present, and it happened to be ready on the afternoon this one broke. While picking up my new saddle at the shop, I also finally picked up a kickstand.
It's feeling good to get the Huffeigh outfitted as a daily rider. I had hoped, while I was investing many hours of work on it, that this bike would be a good ride, and I haven't been disappointed. Now that it's shaping up to be my main ride, I'm getting exciting about doing all of the finishing touches. I've also put on a salvaged rear rack and basket, figured out how to attach the chainguard without it rubbing, and together with the new saddle and kickstand, it becomes that much more useful and complete as a mode of transportation. Next, I'd really like to find a new retro-ish-looking headlamp and dynamo, and also get a
pump for the frame.
While my substantive blogging slows down. BTW, the rust on the Huffeigh's rims (seen above), which I could not remove (trust me, it's not going anywhere) has proven to be a
fantastic benefit in the rain. Anyone with steel rims can tell you they don't brake worth a hoot when wet, but the extra texture of the rust seems to help. In fact, I didn't notice much difference from my normal brake performance.
