Wednesday, June 15, 2016

Love and Hate with “The Audi of Vespas” (Aprilia Scarabeo 250cc)


Love: The riding position – upright, alert, touring, with a saddle like a throne.

Love: The retro-futuristic style, looks teutonic like a BMW.

Hate: Everything is plastic. Plastic will crack and time is running out.

Love: Every little part is stamped “Made in Italy” - Grimeca, Pirelli, Marzocchi, Paoli, Piaggio, I love you.

Love: The cargo capacity is amazing. It carries everything you need and everything you don't.

Love and Hate: Passengers are on the back and don't need to touch you when you ride this thing. On the Vespa, they better hold on to your love handles. On the Aprilia, no love handles are required. Guests can forego the Vespa date night spooning that I hypothetically enjoy. The footpegs are nicer on the Aprilia.

Hate: Why can't I find a large windshield for this thing any place other than Eastern European Ebay? What happens when I actually need parts?

Love: AF1 Racing sold me a new left mirror for like $15. Apparently the other Scarabeo 250cc owner in the USA didn't break his yet.

Love: Cruising around the neighborhood using only 1/8 of the throttle and going as fast as I'd like.

Love: Riding to Rough Trade records and carrying 12” vinyls back in the topcase.

Hate: The headset is made of cheap plastic and rattles like a baby toy, which makes me think I am riding a toy, and makes me long for regular motorcycle handlebars.

Hate: The tiny windshield directs all the windforce right at my face. It is infinitely annoying and tiresome. I finally took it off completely.

Love: The Aprilia is definitively 100% an Italian scooter. At a recent scooter rally, a group of hardcore Lambretta riders quietly and slowly acknowledged the Aprilia is amazing.

Hate: Why is the temperature gauge always all the way turned up? It's not fahrenheit, it's not celsius, it's not even kelvin. It makes no sense. The fan comes on intermittently. I miss the simplicity of the aircooled Vespa engine. It makes me long for a Vespa 946.

Love: The low center of gravity. The floorboards are flat and low. My legs never complain about the shape of the Aprilia.

Hate: Where is the carburetor? Where is the battery? For all I've seen, the middle of this scooter has a molten lava core, same as planet earth. Yes, you need to take off a plastic panel and most of a footrest to just check the oil, which involves such a small sump and dipstick that you won't be sure what to do with any information you gather from it.

Love: Own an Aprilia, and you're in the top 1% of unusual vehicles in America.

Welcome to the mountaintop!

Riding the first fifty miles, fast and free on a mustard colored Rivendell Appaloosa

When I lived in Portland, around 2008 or so, I used to see incredible bikes on the street – bikes made by Vanilla, Ira Ryan, Ahearne, Surly, Kogswell, and Rivendell. I bought a Rivendell Mark's Rack, the little one, for my Trek road bike in the summer of 2008, and I have been a Rivendell fan ever since. I've followed the company and freaked out every time I see one in person.

So, this year during spring break I went out to California. I had only been to California once previously, and my goals were these:

1. Go see 924 Gilman Street, the legendary punk venue
2. Go mountain biking in Marin County, on Mt Tam
3. Go visit Rivendell Bicycle Works in Walnut Creek

Visiting Rivendell was the only one I accomplished. I walked over the Golden Gate Bridge, which satisfied number two on that list for me. I looked at Marin. I also went to Broken Guitars, Green Day's personal guitar store, and chatted with the dude running the store who I think was in the punk band Pinhead Gunpowder (one of my favorites).

From Berkeley, it was about a 20 minute ride on the BART to get to Walnut Creek. Walnut Creek was bigger than I pictured it. I wandered over to the warehouse where Rivendell was.

I was worried, after a mild obsession with these bikes, that this would be a case of “never meet your heroes.” Luckily, it wasn't. I just said I wanted to test ride some of their bikes, and they measured my PBH (pubic bone height) to get my standover. Instead of measuring tons of variables, Rivendell simplifies things and measures only one. I kicked off my sneakers and put my feet in horseshoes nailed to a tree stump. My PBH was 86 cm. Then they subtracted 11 and put me on a 55 cm bike. It was their newest model, the Joe Appaloosa. It had funky “choco-bars” on it. They didn't even take my wallet, but I gave them my bag, and they let me ride around. I rode around their parking lot, doing laps around their building. I really liked the bike. It felt nimble, like my LeMond cyclocross bike, but more stable. I expected to dislike the handlebars, but in a snap judgment decided I liked them.

I had been planning on buying their least expensive bike - the Clem Smith Jr. - in the 59 cm size. But, when I saw one in person I immediately realized it was too large for me! Also, the least expensive Rivendell was so successful, it was sold out. Will from Rivendell let me ride one anyway – their demo one – in the 650B wheeled, 52 cm version. I hopped on it and rode it around. My snap judgement on it was that it felt very similar to my 1984 Trek 830 (aka The Trash Bike). If I hadn't spent years riding the Trash Bike, the Clem would have been a revelation and I would have been thrilled by it!

I went back and test rode some other bikes! I rode their Hunqapillar, one with a 1x11 Shimano set up. I loved this bike! It had the swept-back Nitto Bullmoose bars. It felt like my Trash Bike but AMAZING. I loved that it had big fat 29er tires and wheels. I took a mental note of the parts on the bike. The bike cost around $3300 the way I had it. I leapt off of it. I was dangerously excited about this bike and could not afford it. (Note: it was a 54 cm model I rode)

I also rode the Atlantis. The Atlantis is basically Rivendell's flagship. I rode one in the 58 cm size. It had a Nitto Dirt Drop stem and drop bars. Safety is important to me, but this bike felt like I could ride it without using my hands. I liked it a lot.

Then I took the Appaloosa for another ride. Will, picking up on me saying I loved mountain bikes, led me off down a path and down into the trails. He led me down some side roads and to some horse paths. The bike felt very cruisery but also cyclocrossy. He led me to some paths and then turned around and went back to the shop.

I was in the tall grass on this bike. The paths were all muddy, and the bike was rolling on slicker 45 cm Kenda tires. My spring break in California was plagued with rainstorms, and the trail was all mud. I got off the bike and pushed. I was kind of baffled why this bike shop, one described on Yelp as “$$$$$ ultra high end” would let me go off through the mud with their newest, shiniest bike. My brain just really couldn't figure it out.

I decided to head back, but I didn't know where I was, so I just rode around for a while. I found a big hospital. I found a big park. I asked some dude on a recumbent where the BART station was. I rode in a big loop. The Appaloosa felt great. I really liked how the bottom bracket, and therefore the pedals, were really low to the ground. I liked the Suntour shifters, even though they just clicked and didn't index. It still felt great. I went back and forth in my head – should I just buy a Rivendell bag and thank Will, or should I buy this bike? I went back to the shop.

Yes, I decided to buy it. It was different enough from my Trash Bike and my Cyclocross bike and certainly not like my mountain bike. I was willing to spend my money. Also, I had been commuting for 3 years on a bike I found in the trash. Part of me, I felt, had earned this bike.

But then they told me the bad news – there were none left! All the bikes had sold already. Sorry. I couldn't have this bike. Even the demo I was riding had been promised to a local customer. But, Will checked in the back and he had one frame left, one in the mustard baby poop color (Pantone C132).

I handed over my credit card! YES! I was so excited. I also bought one of their Shop Sacks, a handlebar bag, some Rivendell official twine, and two strips of reflective tape! I threw everything in my bag and left.

I also test rode the Cheviot! It is their step-through bike. I test rode the Albatross bars on it and kind of liked them. I loved the deep green color of the Cheviot. If I had a girlfriend, I would buy her one of these Cheviot bikes.

PUTTING IT TOGETHER:

Waiting for the bike to come in the mail was agony. I started buying parts online. I couldn't decide a lot of what I wanted. I made a spreadsheet of parts. There were a few things I knew I wanted:

1. a “one-by” setup with no front derailleur
2. probably 2.00” x 29” tires
3. move my Paul Brakes over to it
4. Nitto rack on the back
5. Spurcycle grip rings for grips!
6. Thumb shifter!

Other than that, it was kind of up in the air. I decided to sacrifice my LeMond Poprad as a “parts bike” for this bike. I took the LeMond to the front stoop and disassembled it. I felt like I was a lonesome cowboy shooting my injured horse. It was pretty sad. I have had so many good times with that LeMond bike. It was also filthy. I'm glad I took it apart. I put each piece into grocery bags and collected them into a backpack.

I priced out everything and set a budget of $500 for all the parts to get the bike together, then promptly forgot about ever giving myself a budget.

I started putting together a collection of parts. I took the wheels from the LeMond and was disappointed that the rear wheel did not fit. The LeMond has a road standard 130mm rear hub, and the Rivendell has a mountain standard 135mm rear hub. I ordered a Velocity Dyad with a Shimano Deore LX hub wheel from Nomad Bikes.

Here's what I put together:

Nitto cockpit: dirt drop stem, albatross handlebars, stainless shim and oh so trick Sim Works “Between You and Me” nitto bar ends. Also, random colored spurcycle grip rings

Brakes: Paul silver neo-retros and matching paul levers, nitto rear hanger, tektro front hanger

Cranks: Sugino x White Industries 94bcd – an ebay find from the mid-1990s, Wolf Tooth narrow-wide chainring with 32 teeth, my favorite VP Vice pedals, Wippermann chain

Rear Wheel: Velocity Dyad, Shimano hub, 12-25 tooth Shimano cassette
Front wheel: Bontrager standard from the LeMond
Tires: Schwalbe Marathon Mundial – 35mm x 700c

Shifting: shimano 105 road derailleur and a Sunrace 9 speed thumbshifter, Jag-wire cables throughout with corresponding white cable outers

Seating: Kalloy 26.8 seatpost with Brooks Cambium C17 saddle in the “natural rubber” color

Extras: Nitto / Rivendell “big back rack” in the old style attached with Wolf Tooth purple anodized bolts


ENOUGH ABOUT THE PARTS, LET'S TALK ABOUT THE RIDE:

I stop at every bike shop I pass, and I often take new bikes for test rides. Last year, I was very close to buying an on sale Surly Disc Trucker – in size 58 cm, on sale for about $950 new. I liked the bike a lot, but it was just not that different from my beloved LeMond Poprad, and frankly not that special. The Rivendell is a cruiser, but its parts are as solid as any cyclocross bike, and light as a result.

The Rivendell is very, very different. First, the bottom bracket is lower. I scrape my shoes on turns, which sounds like a bad thing but is actually quite fun. It's like Moto GP racers dragging their knees through corners. Of course, perhaps this is due to my tires being very small for what Rivendell had in mind. But, I like the stability. In comparison with the Trash Bike, the saddle on the Rivendell is over an inch lower. That means putting my foot down at stoplights is quicker and more comfortable.

The bike flexes. Also, this sounds bad. But, after changing forks on the Trash Bike I have become sensitive to the subtle give of a gracefully curved fork. The Rivendell's fork, with its cast lugs and beautiful curve, is not for show. It gives a nice floating ride quality, which though it may sound like riding in a Cadillac, actual translates to smoothness, not bounciness.

The bike is stretched out. The chainstays are comically, cartoonishly long. It actually still looks, well, strange. The rear wheel is wayyyyyyy back there. The bike is stable as a result. The Trash Bike has long chainstays too, and it made it stable and confidence-inspiring in the snow.

The bars are raised up as if they are praying to heaven. Will at Rivendell highly recommended the Albatross Bars, and I got carried away with them. I put them up very high. It's like – I'm getting a Rivendell so let's put the bars all the way turned up. But, I'll probably lower them. The steering could be a bit more weighted, a bit less cruiser-ish. I also am planning on turning the thumb shifter underneath the bar so my hands can use the entire width, like a steering wheel almost.

FUTURE RIVENDELL PLANS:
Ride a lot
Put fenders on
Change the saddle (probably to a Brooks with springs)
Get fatter tires (probably 700 x 2.0 Big Bens)
Get a front wheel with a dynamo hub?
Put reflective stuff on it
Ride more



Trash Bike: Year 3


There is beauty in the rat bike. I've always known it, but it's been proven during this past year – year three – of riding the Trash Bike. I've changed the parts around and made a few refinements.

First, I had the good people of 718 Cyclery in Brooklyn build me a rear wheel. Because the rear spacing was initially 126mm, a 135mm hub never fit properly. I compromised and had them put in a 130mm (traditional road standard) hub, with an Alex brand touring rim and three cross spokes. Matched with a Suntour 7 speed cassette, it's been a rear wheel to completely forget about. It's solid – it's true. It cost about $200 and it's worry-free.

Shifting remains friction (not indexed), thanks to the fantastic, fantastic Suntour Power Thumbies. Though they are antiquated, these are great shifters. Again, they are worry-free.

In a huge bit of good fortune, I discovered Nomad Cycles. It was initially in Long Island City / Sunnyside, and I stopped in after seeing their bicycle made into a sign, locked to a pole, pointing to the shop. Immediately, I knew I found something special. Their founder, Damon, is an architect turned bicycle guru. He loved the Trash Bike and has a whole fleet of vintage Treks for himself. In fact, at a shop that has tons of bikes, his go-to bike is a blue townie vintage Trek. I told him I wanted to lower the gear ratio, so we added a Sugino 38 tooth (110 bcd) chainring to the front. I removed the front derailleur, front shifter, and the large and small chainrings. He ground the original middle chainring into a chainguard. It works wonderfully and has lightened up the setup (every bit helps)!

Before I discovered Nomad, I gave the bicycle the romantic equivalent of a diamond ring: a Chris King headset. I wish I had gotten one in a fancy crazy color, but I just went for silver. I changed the fork to a new 1” Tange fork I purchased from the famous Bruce Gordon cycles. It's not a fancy lugged fork – I couldn't find one. But, it's a worry-free item. It doesn't match the color scheme of the bike (as the original fork did), but after a week or two I forgot about matching.

The plan is there is no plan! The rules are there are no rules! (Actually, the only rule is: put the water bottle in one pannier and the camera in the other.) THE COLOR SCHEME IS THERE IS NO COLOR SCHEME. I found out Spurcycle has discontinued their excellent silicon grip rings. So I went on Amazon and bought enough for many bikes. I blindly selected them from a bag, in a lottery type of method, and now the Trash Bike and the Rivendell have random colored ones! I like it a lot.

The Brooks – well, tragedy has struck – the nose is loose and broken. I tried shoelacing it together, which added a very cool contrasting yellow color, and it held the seat together. But, on a ride back from an M83 concert, in the rain, I realized the Brooks is unsafe at any speed. If I ever hope to have children, I need to get another Brooks and retire this one, perhaps put it into the ground just like the cow it came from. Or perhaps I'll give it a viking burial by dropping it off of the Triboro. Is it a badge of honor? You wore out 1 Brooks – congratulations Padawan, soon you'll be a Jedi Master of crappy bike rides in the rain. I've just graduated to my third motorcycle helmet, for years of scooter riding. It's just the passing of time.

The tires! I decided to get even more vintagey, even more basic Pinterest level “sooooOOOooo rETrooo” by getting the Schwalbe Fat Frank tires in the 26” by 2.35” and the crème-de-la-crème color. Wow – was this a mistake. Maybe if I lived in some place like San Luis Obispo, it would have been a good idea. But, at home in the “Borough that Time Forgot,” the selection was just plain myopic. I rode a half a block and the tires were filthy. Bummer. I aimed for vintage, but I got old and dusty.

I have also replaced the bottom bracket with a newer sealed cartridge Shimano one. Then, most recently, at Nomad, I got the Wipperman Made in Germany chain. It cost $35, but it's silent and amazing. It's been a fantastic upgrade. (It was also the finishing touch on the Rivendell.)

The Trash Bike has been amazing. It's likely been the best vehicle I've ever owned. It's cost me nothing, except for hundreds of dollars in upkeep and replacing parts.

Here are the parts that still came from the trash:
the frame
the handlebars
the brake levers
the brake straddle hangers
the rear derailleur
the shifter
the cranks
the seatpost
maybe the cables???

Everyone should have a Trash Bike.



Monday, June 13, 2016