Riding the storm out

Purple Haze, all in my brain … lately things just don’t seem the same. …

Rolling out of bed this morning after dreaming of bicycles I fell right into the old spin cycle, rolling down Memory Lane.

While inhaling my first cuppa I browsed over to Rivendell where Grant Petersen was musing about a well-used Centurion Accordo he saw recently, parked at a BART station. He made it for a 1985 model, priced in the low-$300s, which set me to recalling my own Centurion, the bike that put me back in the game in 1984.

Mine was a $320 Le Mans 12, red and silver, at 60cm just a skosh too tall for me. Didn’t care. I was an old Schwinn guy trying to quit smoking cigarettes and snorting cocaine, dial back my gargling of the tonsil polish, and in the process maybe shed a few elbees. I weighed 184 at the time, and sometimes — depending upon how many bumps and beers I’d had the night(s) before — it felt more like kilos than pounds.

I was already swimming laps in the overwarm pool at the Pueblo YMCA, and lifting weights. But the scenery never changes in the pool or the gym. So getting back on the bike seemed just the ticket.

And it was! It just took more than one bike, and more than a few years.

• • •

Moving on from Centurions (and their resemblance to his own A. Homer Hilsens) Grant went on to extol the virtues of SunTour components, in particular the Cyclone group, which did battle with the more expensive Shimano 600 group. He writes:

Well, wouldn’t you know it? My next bike, a 1985 Trek 560, was equipped with SunTour New Cyclone-S, and I certainly didn’t think it was worse than whatever was on that old Centurion. Sleek and smooth, or so it seemed to me. As for the frameset, its main triangle was double-butted Reynolds 501, the stays True Temper cro-mo, and the fork Tange Mangalloy CCL. This was the bike that got me riding centuries and, eventually, racing.

Racing was good. I wasn’t, but trying to be helped me keep my nose clean (har de har har). And instead of pissing away money on expensive and illegal drugs, I pissed it away on equally expensive but completely legal bicycles and related gear, apparel, and aftermarket “upgrades.”

Like everyone else I left steel, SunTour, and friction shifting behind for aluminum, carbon, and Shimano STI. The old Trek was demoted to a bad-weather/wind-trainer bike, and eventually went away altogether, drifting off the back as technology drove relentlessly forward, Your Humble Narrator clinging to the wheel.

But the Great Wheel also spins, and I eventually found my way back to the idea of that bike.

• • •

We got a bit of winter this week that kept me off the saddle and in something of a mood. Trying to fill the frosty void I spent a little time swapping handlebars on my red Steelman Eurocross. I’d been muttering about getting rid of its deep-drop, long-reach Deda 215 road bar for a while, and with an assist from Old Man Winter I finally got ’er done, swapping it out for a Soma Hwy One bar just like the one on my other Eurocross.

Big Red with its new bar (Cinelli cork bar tape not included).

The red Steelman, like my old Trek, is a blend of Reynolds and True Temper. No classy SunTour jewelry, alas; just clunky, scuffed Shimano ST-R500 Flight Deck brifters running Shimano 600/Ultegra derailleurs and Spooky cantis. I thought, briefly, about going to bar-end shifters, maybe nine-speed; new cassette with more teefers on the fat side, new rear derailleur, new chain, new brake levers and … and maybe not.

Frankly, it felt just a little bit too much like work. Skill set and personal preference dictate that I ride these things rather than wrench on them. Maybe some other time, on some other bleakly cold snow day.

And I couldn’t have gone back to downtube shifters even if I wanted to. There’s a set in the garage, awaiting the callup, but the Eurocross routes its cables along the top tube. No shifter bosses on the downtube. Maybe some bridges are better off burned.

Hammer time?

Looks promising. …

Thor is teasing us again, twirling his hammer like a drum major’s baton.

Will Mjölnir finally deliver the goods today? The Monday Geezer Ride is scheduled for 10:30, but I’d gladly trade 20 miles of asphalt for .20 inch of rain. What the hell, I got a nice 20-miler in yesterday on my No. 2 Steelman Eurocross, jumping from road to trail and back again as the spirit moved.

Gaming out a new bar setup.

If it does rain, it would be a perfect opportunity for me to revise that bike’s cockpit. I’ve never really liked the chunky aftermarket Flight Deck STI levers, and the old Deda bar has more drop and reach than I prefer in my Golden Years.

Happily, I have a new Soma Hwy One bar awaiting its callup and the original STI levers from my No. 1 Eurocross, long ago transformed to standard brake levers and indexed bar-end shifters.

I’d go to indexed bar-cons on No. 2, too, but I’m fresh out of the eight-speed versions — nine I got (from the now-dismantled Voodoo Nakisi), and seven (still on the Steelman time-trial bike,. But not eight.

While I’m at it maybe I could replace No. 2’s old Shimano 600 rear derailleur with a “new” 105 or a “slightly used” Ultegra? I even have a never-used Altus from Rivendell. Said to be Grant the P’s favorite rear d., it will accommodate a 34T (!) cog. That’d be a nice change from the 28T cog on there now. My No. 1 Eurocross uses a derailleur-tab extender and a 32T cog for the steep bits.

If I were smart I’d swipe the seven-speed bar-cons from the TT bike, put them and my last set of Shimano 600 brake levers on No. 2, and call it good.

But you know the odds of me ever getting smart.

An old story

My Nobilette takes five at the Michial Emery trailhead.

It was the Wednesday Geezer Ride and I was running on O’Grady Standard Time as per usual.

I almost always make our meeting spot on time, or within shouting distance of it, anyway. But not this Wednesday.

After a distracting morning spent accommodating Herself and a visiting sister I was horsing the Nobilette northward along Tramway, a few minutes off my usual delayed kickoff and feeling a little light in the jersey pockets for some reason.

So I gave myself a quick pat-down.

“Shit, forgot my tools. Aw, probably won’t need them.” Onward.

Then the Watch cheeped.

“Forget your water bottle?” asked Herself.

“Shit again. That I will definitely need.”

So I texted the Ride Leader to let him know I’d join up somewhere along the route, then pulled a U and big-ringed it back toward El Rancho Pendejo, which this morning seemed aptly named.

While headed south I saw our Ride Leader headed north. We both looked at each other like, “WTF?” He should’ve been at the meetup while I should’ve been a couple minutes behind him and closing in.

“Back in a minute!” I yelled and punched it.

At the casa I grabbed bottle and tools and headed north once more, advising the Ride Leader via text that I’d try to catch up around Simms at Eagle Ridge, or at the Elena Gallegos Open Space.

But when I got to Eagle Ridge, no Geezers.

So I backtracked the route a bit. Nope. Rode up to Elena Gallegos. Nix. Did a couple laps of that loop to pass the time. Nuttin’.

Shit.

So I rip a quick shortcut to the next checkpoint, in High Desert. Nada.

¡Basta ya! I text again.

“Where you gents at?”

“At top of Elena’s,” replies the Ride Leader.

Sheeeeeeyit.

Anyway, to shorten an already-overlong story, one Geezer had a crook gut and bailed pre-ride, another flatted (the Ride Leader stopped to offer aid, which explains why he was running behind), and there were a couple other no-shows. A late start thus became even later. Our carefully designed velo-structure simply fell apart like a toilet-paper tent in a heavy rain.

At least our communications devices didn’t explode in our pockets or hands. First World Problems only, please.

In any event, so we’re a little slow off the start line. So what? Rivendell’s Grant Petersen likes “pleasurable, unhurried riding,” and so do I. When I can manage it, anyway.

Hat tip to Alex Strickland, the former boss-fella at Adventure Cyclist, for passing along the Rivendell story.