Total Electronic Integration?

Some months back, I "predicted" with a bit of satire that Shimano was introducing a new integrated electronic component group that would combine speed, cadence, power meter, GPS, heart-rate, and other data to make shifting functions completely automatic. Riders would no longer have to think at all about shifting, as the computer would handle all decision-making for them. It would be called Shimano TEI, for Total Electronic Integration. In that article, I had a fictional spokesperson argue "Everyone knows that companies like Google are even working on self-driving cars. Why should bicycles be left in the dark ages?"

As skeptical critics questioned the "fly-by-wire" bicycle, asking "What ever happened to strategy or skill? What's wrong with knowing how to shift?" and "What makes this different from a video game?" the fictional corporate reps dismissed those concerns. "Guys like that won't be happy unless we're all riding Fred Flintstone bikes. They're just bitter retrogrouches. I mean, come on, you still have to pedal!"

It was all just meant as some tongue-in-cheek humor, but the other day I spotted this article on BikeRadar that essentially makes the same predictions and more. "Our bikes are forever becoming more electronically integrated," it says. "Items such as GPS cycle computers, power meters, electronic shifting, and even electronic suspension are all available now."

The article goes on to highlight computers like the Magellan Cyclo 500, that offers third-party connection to Shimano's Di2 components, which could mean "instructed shifting" in the near future. "Based on power output and cadence, this could tell newer riders via the cycle computer or smart phone screen when to shift and in what direction in order to maintain a desired power output." Of course, if they can do that, the next step is pretty obvious. "Furthering this is sequential shifting -- in which the derailleurs take control and automatically choose whether to shift on the front or rear based on gear selection. . . While experienced riders and racers would likely hate the lack of control, it could simplify an often confusing aspect of cycling for many newer riders." I hardly see such a development as something to look forward to.

While I joked in my made-up piece that some riders were "disappointed" that the TEI system wouldn't control their braking for them -- and hinted that Shimano was working on that for the next upgrade -- BikeRadar brought up another area that could be taken over by the computer. The article says, "We've already seen the likes of Magura's smart suspension, which sense whether it's on an uphill or downhill slope and changes the damping settings to suit, but the next level could be GPS-based suspension." Apparently, another suspension company, Fox, has a system that uses a lot of the same technology as Shimano's Di2, so it's just a short leap to having it all work together in that way, where the computer would use power meter data and GPS information to adjust the suspension settings throughout a ride.

Already heading in this fully-integrated direction is the Vanhawks Valour -- heralded on Kickstarter as the first "Connected" bike. From their own marketing text: "We're rethinking the commute, one bicycle at a time. Technology impacts our lives in countless ways. Yet we ride the same archaic bicycles to and from work every day, disconnected from our environment and ourselves. It's time to integrate the most influential technology into the bicycle. You're connected, why shouldn't your bike be?"

Ironically, the best way I can think of to get "disconnected from our environment" is with a cell phone -- but I'm probably interpreting it differently.

Like many other "innovative" bikes designed with the urban commuter in mind, the bike has no fenders or racks, and no apparent way to attach either. Maybe a new smartphone app will help commuters carry what they need for work, and keep the wet spray from painting their backsides in the event of an unexpected shower.

I also couldn't help but notice that despite multiple claims of "Safety First," the bike shown in the photos and videos has NO BRAKES. "Valour is the ultimate combination of safety, connectivity, design, and simplicity. . . Valour is designed with safety in mind. Unique to the industry, Valour incorporates integrated technology for advanced personal safety." Wonderful, as long as you don't need to stop.

Supposedly, the Valour also remembers potholes and "learns" to suggest different routes. It also "learns" the elevation of routes and suggests easier ways to get around the hills. Other "connectivity" features include a turn-by-turn navigation system, blind-spot detection (so you don't have to look before changing lanes -- something that's really hard to do when you're "connected" to a cell phone), and complete integration with performance-tracking smartphone apps.

In my bogus article on the "fly-by-wire" bicycle, I suggested that all the integrated electronic systems would even allow for theft detection -- that an owner could be notified by phone if someone is using their bicycle. Sure enough, the Valour creators tout that feature, too.

The creators of the Vanhawks Valour boast of its carbon fiber frame construction -- but a quick glance tells me that it probably has the all the build quality of a department store BSO (bicycle-shaped-object). Just look at the junction between the head tube and the fork crown. Yikes!

Total Electronic Integration -- The "fly-by-wire" bicycle is coming. It occurs to me that the only difference between my fictional "fly-by-wire" bicycle and this real one shown above is that mine was intended as a joke.

Campy Goes Ugly

As I've been looking at the state of modern bicycle components, pointing out the bloated, swollen proportions of today's cranks and derailleurs, it might have been noticed that I generally avoided criticism of the designs from Campagnolo -- and in fact, even noted the Veloce group as having one of the nicest-looking current-model derailleurs (at least in its silver version). Campy's Veloce (for 10-speed) and Athena (for 11-speed) are both still available in aluminum with nice-looking polished or anodized silver finishes. The cranks bear a familiar look to those who remember the smooth aero design of the mid-80s C-Record, though the vintage versions were a bit more svelte than the current ones.

Well, if the spy photos released on BikeRadar last week are any indication, things from Vicenza are about to get ugly.

At the Giro d'Italia, a rider for the Europcar team was reportedly sporting some prototype equipment from Campagnolo, and while it didn't bear any logos, it is believed that the new parts will eventually bear the Record name. Both the crank and rear derailleur make a complete departure in design from the current offerings. Take a look:

The wide, fat new crank has a 4-arm spider, much like the current Dura-Ace, except that it has a symmetrical bolt pattern. The BikeRadar article says that the crank should take both standard or compact rings -- but considering that the chainrings are almost certainly incompatible with anything else on the market, that seems like a moot point. Then again, proprietary crank BCDs are more or less par-for-the-course with Campagnolo these days. From the photos, it's clear that the bolts attach from the back, and the chainrings have been sculpted by CNC machining. While the current model Campy cranks (the aluminum ones, that is) look okay on a steel frame -- maybe not a skinny-tubed vintage frame, but on the slightly larger tubing diameters common today -- these new ones, should they make it to regular production, would look pretty atrocious. Perhaps they won't translate this design into aluminum, but I wouldn't be surprised if the 4-arm spider becomes the new "standard," thereby making the current cranks and chainrings obsolete.

The new carbon-fiber rear derailleur looks twisted and deformed. The parallelogram seems to have some kind of kinky s-bend in it. Why, I can't imagine. Interestingly, one might notice that it is cable-operated, not electronic. Who would've imagined there would still be cable operated shifters in our future? I don't know if there would be an attempt to translate the design into polished aluminum, though I can't say it would look any better.

I suppose what this all means for retrogrouches and fans of traditional styling is that the vintage market is about to get a lot more popular.

A Tale of Two Bikes

I've written before about weight and bicycles. I've argued that reliability, durability, comfort, and convenience (and even beauty) all trump weight on my list of priorities. If fenders allow me to ride comfortably without the wet, muddy stripe up my backside when the roads are wet, then I'm happy to carry the extra weight. If racks and bags allow me to carry loads on my bike instead of my back, I will gladly accept the weight. If a lugged steel frame and fork will prove to be more reliable and durable, and please my eye more than a "popped-out-of-a-mold" carbon bike, then I will choose the steel frame every time. Weight simply doesn't make as much difference as we are led to believe. Not in performance, and certainly not in enjoyment.

No doubt, a lighter bike may feel faster. But in actual real-world performance, especially in the non-racing world, the difference is more perception than reality. Weight can make a difference, but one needs to be talking about pounds, not grams. And there are other factors that make a much bigger difference than weight.

Two Bikes

I have two bikes that are very similar in many ways, but have a large difference in weight. Both are made by the fine folks at Mercian, with frames made of the same Reynolds 725 heat-treated chrome-moly. Both are equipped with recent-era Campagnolo components and similar wheels. One has a longer wheelbase and slightly more relaxed frame angles. Stripped down, the bikes are very similar, but one of them is fully loaded up for touring and commuting, with front and rear racks, fenders, multiple bags, and lights. Heading out the door on the way to work, the loaded bike carries roughly 15 - 18 pounds more than the stripped down version.

Fully loaded up, with full bags, ready for the commute to work, this bike pushes nearly 40 pounds

Similar frame and componentry, but essentially "stripped down," this bike weighs around 22 pounds or so.

With such a large difference in weight, one would fully expect there to be a huge difference in performance -- seriously -- the extra pounds I carry in gear and accessories alone are more than the complete weight of one of the latest generation of carbon fiber wünderbikes. So how does that affect my riding?

My commute to work is just over 13 miles and typically takes me about 50 minutes. The ride home is a bit over 15 miles and takes me an hour. It varies a little from day to day, but rarely by more than a minute or two plus or minus.

One morning when the weather was good, and the afternoon forecast was looking even better, and I had very little that I needed to carry with me to work, I chose to ride the lighter, stripped down bike. Dropping roughly 15 pounds, I have to say, I felt fast. The bike surged forward with every pedal stroke. On the long, slow slog of a climb I encounter every morning, I felt like I was flying. The bike felt weightless rocking side-to-side beneath me as I climbed out of the saddle (with prose like that, I could review bikes for Bicycling. All I need to add is "laterally stiff and vertically compliant"). When I pulled into the parking lot at work, I found I had made it in 45 minutes. Five minutes faster! My fastest commute ever.

Before any weight-weenies start rejoicing (do weight-weenies even read this blog?) I should point out something else that I failed to mention. There are over 30 traffic lights along my route between home and work -- more than two lights per mile! On the morning of my personal-record-best ride, I had the nearly miraculous luck to hit every green light for more than 13 miles. Every single one was green. At no point did I have to stop for the whole commute. So, was my 5-minutes-faster time because I was on a lighter bike, or because of my unbelievable luck with the lights? No question, luck had something to do with it. But how much?

About a month later, I got my answer. Riding my regular commuting bike, loaded up with my usual bags and gear, I had an unexpected repeat of my luck with the traffic lights: once again, I had managed to hit every light green all the way from home to work. No stopping and starting. No lost momentum. I did not feel the bike surge forward with every pedal stroke. I could feel the extra pounds shift side-to-side beneath me as I climbed the long, slow incline. But I arrived at work in 46 minutes; a minute off my best time. It's true that far less time than that would be the difference between winning and losing in a race -- but this was no race. In any other situation, such a small difference is totally inconsequential.

I've read that studies show there is a difference of 1 mph in average speed for every 12 pounds added to or subtracted from a bike. Although hardly exact or scientific, my little informal experience above seems fairly consistent with that result. Clearly, there are other factors that can potentially make a bigger difference than weight. Traffic lights obviously make a difference. Wind direction makes a difference. I've found that riding to work into a strong headwind can add a good 5 minutes to my usual time. My own personal physical state makes a difference, too. Some days I just feel faster -- I get into a rhythm, my lungs and legs feel great, and everything just comes together. Other days . . . well, not.

I guess what I'm getting at here is that the quest for ever lighter bikes and components isn't really transforming the experience of bicycling in any meaningful way. The over-sized, swollen-looking frames and components rendered in carbon fiber might be bringing the weight of bicycles into sub-16-pound territory, but what's the point? If they are visually atrocious, less durable, less reliable, less practical (can they accept fenders and racks?), while simultaneously more complicated and more expensive, then what do we gain?

Component Style: Modern Parts - Classic Looks

After my recent retrogrouch-y rant about the garish and bloated state of many modern bike components, I got to thinking about what a person can do if they want to put new components onto a more traditional-styled bike. Obviously, a swollen-looking crank and oversized derailleurs with cartoonish graphics will NOT look right on a steel frame, whether vintage or new. So what's a person to do?

Of course, there is always the vintage market, where lightly used and sometimes new-old-stock parts come up for sale pretty regularly. Ebay can be a great source, and real bargains can be had. But sometimes a person doesn't want to take the time to search for the right vintage piece, and hope that the condition is actually as good up close as it looked in the listing photos. Sometimes a person wants new parts that won't look out of place on their classic-looking bike.

There are some options out there -- though some are just as expensive (possibly even more so) than the cartoonish modern components the flow through today's market. But take a look at some of what's available:

Cranks (shown from "reasonable budget" to "no expense spared")

Sugino still makes several models of excellent cranks that have svelte proportions and lovely alloy finishes. The Alpina crank shown comes with a "compact" 50/34 ring combination, and uses 110 bolt circle diameter chainrings. The styling of these is very similar to the smoothed "aero" cranks that became popular in the 1980s. Available from Boulder Bicycles for $179.

Velo Orange has this low Q-factor crank that looks somewhat reminiscent of the vintage Campagnolo cranks from the 60s through early 80s. But with its 110 BCD, it can take smaller chainrings, and there is a large selection of different ring sizes that will fit. Available in single, double, and triple ring versions, as well as this cool "drillium" version. Prices range from $150 - $200 depending on the options. 

Velo Orange also offers this 50.4 BCD crank that recalls the look of the classic Specialties TA "cyclotourist" cranks. Vintage TA and Stronglight 50.4 BCD rings will fit, but VO says that their new rings are thicker and stiffer than the vintage ones. That is good, because the larger rings on the old TAs could bend or flex a bit. These are exceptionally versatile because a single pair of cranks can be set up easily as a single, double or triple -- it's just a matter of using the right length bolts, and having the necessary chainrings. Available from VO for $200.

Very similar to the Velo Orange 110 BCD crank shown above is this IRD Defiant. (Heck, they might even be forged in the same factory in Taiwan). Available as a double or a triple, and typically selling for $190 - $200. Soma Fabrications is one source.

The new Rene Herse cranks from Compass Bicycles are a beautifully updated version of a vintage classic. The small 70 BCD, 3-bolt design allows the crank to be used as a single, double, or triple, with chainrings as small as 24 teeth. Many choices of chainring combinations are available, with prices ranging from $385 - $440. A tandem set is also available.

When only the "real deal" will do, the Specialties TA Cyclotourist crank (officially named the Pro 5 VIS) is still available, or perhaps available again. Priced at $439 for the arms only (!) One then has to select the rings they want to go with it. Chainrings from 26 - 52 teeth are available, ranging in price from $34 - $52 each, and the requisite bolts can add up to another $90 or so. Not for the faint of heart. From Boulder Bicycle.

Note that all of the cranks shown above take square-taper bottom brackets, which means they are far outside the current fashion. Luckily, super-high-quality square-taper BBs are still available from Phil Wood and SKF, and there are plenty of inexpensive choices as well, from Shimano, Velo Orange, and others.

Derailleurs:

One thing about derailleurs today is that many of them, even cheaper ones, often shift better than the best derailleurs of the past (even a retrogrouch can't deny that). Then again, that can be said of most derailleurs made since the mid-to-late-80s. Most 90s-era derailleurs work just as well as the current models, as long as one isn't trying to use them with the latest 10 and 11 speed systems, and many of them look nicer, with polished finishes and subtle graphics. Clean, lightly used examples are easy to find. But just as I said above, sometimes a person might want a brand new component that looks appropriate on a classic-styled, slender, steel-tubed bike. I did some looking, and found a couple of examples that might be acceptable. Both are designed for 10-sp. cassettes, but I'm told there shouldn't be much problem using them with some of the older gear systems. Pairing a modern "10-sp." derailleur with an old wide-spaced 5-speed freewheel and matching wide chain might not work well, but I don't know for sure. But if anybody is going with a setup that old, then I'd really just recommend the vintage market anyhow.

Shimano's Tiagra (mod. 4601) is functionally as good as derailleurs costing much much more, and they aren't overly garish. They are vaguely "silver-ish" but not exactly what I'd call exquisitely finished. The previous edition (4500) was slightly nicer in that regard, and old stock ones may still be available if you're willing to search. Full retail is about $60, but they are often discounted for considerably less. Short and long-cage versions are available.

Campagnolo's Veloce is every bit as good functionally as their Record derailleur, but available in a really nicely finished aluminum alloy (very rare today). The logo is pretty subtle, too. Though much more expensive than the Tiagra above, it is the "bargain" priced Campy, and in my opinion is one of the best-looking current model derailleurs available. Prices vary a lot -- anywhere from $90 - $160, so shop around before buying. Incidentally, it is not necessary to use Campagnolo hubs, cassettes, or brake/shift levers to use the Campagnolo derailleurs. Generally speaking, derailleurs don't "care" what shift levers they're attached to, or what brand of cassettes they are shifting over. Campagnolo's Athena looks very similar, but costs more, and the main difference between the two is that Athena "goes to 11."

By the way, both of the rear derailleurs above can be paired up with "matching" front units that have a complementary style. It would be nice to say there are more current derailleur options available in a classic silver look, but "pickin's is pretty slim." Too bad. As I already pointed out, searching the vintage, used, and old-stock market is always an option, and a good way to save a bit of money.

In the City of Bikes: A Book Review

Moments after arriving in Amsterdam, Pete Jordan slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and walked out onto the streets of the bustling city. Stopping to admire some 17th century architecture, he suddenly heard a bike bell ring out. "Then, from behind, a bicycle slammed into me. . . I stumbled a few steps before righting myself. I turned and saw a young brunette cyclist in a short skirt . . . she scowled, then muttered 'Klootzak!' and sped off." Two or three more near misses made Jordan realize quickly that he was not on a sidewalk, as he had assumed, but rather was walking in the middle of the dedicated bike path. It was an ignoble introduction to the famously bike-centric city, and an amusing introduction to Jordan's memoir In the City of Bikes: The Story of the Amsterdam Cyclist. Jordan's book is enjoyable not only as a memoir, but also as a history of bicycling, and a narrative tour of a city that must seem overwhelmingly bicycle-powered.

In the City of Bikes tells Jordan's personal story, of how he came to Amsterdam with the intent of staying for a semester abroad, to study ways to make American cities more bicycle friendly -- but he quickly falls in love with the city and makes the decision to stay, along with his new wife, Amy Joy. Both Pete and Amy discover the joys of a city that lives in the saddle and moves with the pace of its many bicyclists.

Author, Pete Jordan

In addition to the many amusing and sometimes thought-provoking personal anecdotes of Jordan's memoir -- from searching the city for a stolen bike (bike theft is apparently a major industry), to the opening of his wife Amy's own bike shop, and the birth of their son who would be raised on two wheels -- the book also explores the history of bicycling in Amsterdam. Readers will enjoy learning about the fietsjongens (bike delivery boys), the zwijntjesjager (bike thieves), and the Nazi occupation, during which many of the citizens' bicycles were confiscated by the occupiers for the Nazi war machine. Of all the things taken or destroyed by the Nazis during the occupation, it was the theft of the bicycles that seemed to be the most "personal." According to Jordan, "Give me back my bike!" is still a rallying cry among the Dutch generations later.

For anyone interested in living by bike -- for basic transportation, commuting, shopping, and more -- Jordan's book paints a picture that is both hopeful and sobering at the same time. Bicyclists in many ways dominate the scene in Amsterdam, but from what one can gather from the book, it would be difficult to replicate the same kind of environment here in the U.S. Despite what we may hear or believe about Amsterdam's bicycle culture, Jordan points out that actual pro-bicycle policymaking is a fairly recent phenomenon there. For many years, there had been efforts to put limits on cyclists, including bans of cycling on certain streets, speed limits for cyclists, bans on riding double (or "dinking" -- a favorite pastime of young lovers, and a common Dutch courtesy), the imposition of bicycle taxes, and more. What keeps the bicycling culture so vibrant in Amsterdam is not the efforts of lawmakers, but rather, the overwhelming number of people who ride, and the fact that their collective "mass" makes them a force to be reckoned with. (It was that same steadfastness of the cyclists that proved to be such a challenge for the occupying German forces.)

What makes Jordan's depiction sobering is that one might rightly infer that all the bicycle advocacy efforts we can muster here in the U.S. won't likely make any of our cities into an "American Amsterdam" when cyclists even in the most bike-friendly communities only make up a small percentage of the traffic. In The Netherlands, car ownership is expensive. In the U.S. it is cheap (or at least perceived to be cheap -- but it's all subsidized in other ways). In the U.S., cars are also a status symbol, much more so than in Amsterdam -- the perception here is that if one can afford a car, why would they ride a bike? (riding a super-expensive carbon fiber dream machine is different -- such bikes are rarely used for actual transportation, but are rather seen as expensive toys).

One of the things that really comes through in the book is how bicycles have become such an integral part of the Dutch cultural identity, and nowhere is that more apparent than in Amsterdam. The Dutch even had bicycling royalty! If one reads much about world affairs, they might have seen that The Netherlands, like many European countries, has seen a lot of immigration -- particularly from Islamic cultures in the Middle East. Sometimes there are problems with assimilation, and there was a notable situation involving the murder of filmmaker Theo Van Gogh (great-grand-nephew of Vincent Van Gogh). Jordan's book looks at Van Gogh's murder and the surrounding cultural conflict from the standpoint of the bicyclist. As he points out in the book, many of the immigrants are not cyclists. Many come from places where bicycling is not a regular part of life -- or if bicycles are used, it is only by those who are on the bottom rungs of the social ladder. The women are either not permitted to ride bikes, or encouraged not to. The men want cars to display their rising status, and these ideas make it difficult to fit into the national identity. Of course, there is more to it, and I don't think Jordan aims to over-simplify a serious and complex issue -- but it does raise an interesting cultural point. It was just one of many interesting angles explored in the book.

I really enjoyed reading In the City of Bikes. Jordan has written a good narrative with some fascinating history. Anyone interested in learning about one of the world's most notable bicycling cultures would likely enjoy it as much as I did.

Component Style: Old and New

Bicycle components are getting really ugly. Every time I look through the current magazines, the websites, and the showroom floors, I'm struck by how bloated everything looks. I suppose it shouldn't come as a surprise that with carbon frames continually swelling, with expanding dimensions for head tubes, steerers, handlebars, and bottom brackets, that the components would follow suit.

One of the most eye-catching, noticeable components on a bicycle is probably the crank. But so many of them now are bloated to match the fat, swollen-looking carbon frames.

Current edition Dura-Ace: massive, fat arms, and thick, heavy-looking chainrings. Hollow (even the rings) to save weight, but the whole package just looks like it needs a diet. I'm sure Shimano has some technical justification for the asymmetrical 4-bolt rings, but all it means to me is total incompatibility with anything else, meaning that one can only use the Dura-Ace rings. Don't worry about replacements, though, because by the time the rings wear out, they'll have probably been rendered obsolete by a new version with a different bolt pattern.

The latest Ultegra has taken cues from its more expensive sibling. The satin/matte black finish doesn't improve the look, and the extra-thick, hollow chainrings draw attention to the line where the rings meet the spider.

SRAM's Red crank uses carbon fiber to keep the weight down, and it's also supposedly hollow (for durability and reliability?). The graphics-heavy design and the over-styled chainrings look like something out of a Japanese animé cartoon.

I know I'm biased, but alloy cranks of the past just look much more elegant to me. It's possible that the swollen, hollow carbon-fiber designs of today might weigh less, but the classic designs of the past look lighter.

Campagnolo's Super Record -- late 70s through mid 80s. Cold-forged, beautifully finished. It looks industrial yet delicate at the same time.

Campagnolo's less expensive crank, the GS, was somewhat simplified, with details that aren't rendered quite as crisply as the more expensive Super Record, yet it still had a healthy dose of "class."

Stronglight made some really gorgeous cranks in the 70s, like this model 93. Notice the huge cutouts in the spider arms, and how the angles between the crank and the rings suggest a  perfectly symmetrical pentagram. 

Early Dura-Ace illustration (by Daniel Rebour). In general, the crank takes some styling cues from the classic Campagnolo cranks, but with a slightly smaller bolt circle diameter, allowing smaller chainrings than one could get with Campy.

The mid 80s Dura-Ace crank was clean and simple. A real classic.

Another focal point for any component group is the rear derailleur. But again, derailleurs have taken such a swing into ugly territory -- looking overly large and tacky, a complement to the oversized frames so common today.

SRAM's Red rear derailleur, like other SRAM components, goes overboard with graphics and logos. The derailleur is a mini billboard. The unit is huge, but with massive cutouts making it look almost skeletal in a Terminator T1 sort of way.

Another SRAM rear derailleur -- this one is a mountain bike model. Again, it's hard not to notice the overbearing graphics -- logos on almost every surface. 

The latest Ultegra Di2, looking not terrifically different from its more expensive Dura-Ace sibling. Matte black, and massively bloated, both versions look as though they have a malignant growth, or some kind of goiter.

The classic Campagnolo Super Record might not have shifted as well as slant parallelogram derailleurs, but it was compact and tidy in its appearance. Slightly industrial-looking, but classy.

The Huret Jubilee was the lightest rear derailleur in its day, and beautiful in an interesting steampunk sort of way. The exposed springs, and all its joints and pivots out in the open, it was a minimalist marvel.

Along with the Jubilee shown above, the SunTour Cyclone was one of the lightest derailleurs one could buy -- and also one of the best shifting. Best of all, it was bargain priced. A long-cage "GT" version was also available for wider range gearing.

Proof that mountain bike derailleurs weren't always tacky (I'm lookin' at you, SRAM). Though not strictly a mountain bike shifter, the early Deore started out as a touring derailleur (top photo), and changed focus with the rise of mountain bikes in the 80s. The third generation (not shown), a slant parallelogram design, made for even better shifting. Overall, a pretty simple, nice-looking wide-range derailleur.

Today's components might complement the oversized proportions of carbon frames, but then I think it's pretty clear how I feel about those, too. Swollen frames, bloated components, deep profile rims -- and all slathered in overblown graphics, bikes end up looking like rolling billboards. Give me the delicate, elegant proportions of the classics with their buffed and polished alloy finishes anytime. No great insights today -- just a retrogrouch-y rant.

May is Bike Month

As far as I'm concerned, every month is a bike month. But to much of the country, and according to the League of American Bicyclists, May is Bike Month.

Bike shops, clubs, and advocacy groups all over the country will likely have events planned -- group rides, challenges, etc. May 7, for example, is "National Bike to School Day," while the 16th is "National Bike to Work Day." Some of these events, and the mention of them on the news, etc., might help raise some awareness of cyclists out on the roads, though as a regular commuter I can attest that convincing many drivers out there that we actually have the right to the road is an uphill battle. Some of us don't need a "bike month" or "bike to work day" to convince us to ride -- but it might be the thing that gets some other people out there to at least give it a try.

Looking back, it was about two years ago that I started commuting by bike regularly to my current job. I was not exactly new to bike commuting. When I was in high school I quickly discovered that I hated buying gas and so I often rode my bike to school or to my part-time and summer jobs. I regularly rode my bike to classes in college from my off-campus apartment. And when I first started teaching (as a substitute, originally), and lived only a few miles from the school, I often rode my bike to work when the weather permitted. But for the past 20 years, I've worked at a high school that is about 14 miles from my home. I had long wanted to ride to work, but had been hesitant to do it for various reasons. There were no "bike friendly" routes between home and work. With that kind of distance, I was concerned about things like showering, the need to dress professionally, and other necessities. For a long time it just didn't seem like a practical option.

A great way to get to work.

But then two years ago in May, and yes, "Bike to Work Day" was coming up, I thought, "hell with it" and determined to give it a try. And once I made that determination, it turned out that all those "obstacles" that had been keeping me from riding either didn't materialize, or turned out to be much easier to handle than I'd imagined.

To prepare for the commute, I first had to figure out a route. I had to choose between the main thoroughfares or the back roads. The main routes were much more direct, but also much more likely to be busy with traffic. The back roads would end up taking much longer, and I had to consider how much time I was willing to spend on the road and how early I wanted to get up in the morning. Ultimately, I found that the main thoroughfares were best in the morning. Traffic at that early hour was actually pretty light for most of the trip, and the route was well-lit which could be a benefit for several reasons. In the afternoon, when traffic would be heavier, I decided to take the back roads -- the added time and distance not being so much of a concern.

The other thing I needed to figure out was showering and clothing. I prepared by taking some professional clothes into work ahead of time and keeping them there. I also brought in a towel and some shower supplies. Compared to some people, I'm lucky in that we do have showers available (it's a high school -- we have a gym and showers). As it turned out, however, the shower is generally unnecessary as I can clean up as much as I need to in a typical bathroom sink. Cleaning up with a wash cloth and changing into fresh clothes is enough, and people have no idea I rode my bike in to work.

My "experiment" in biking to work showed me that the obstacles were not as difficult as I had feared, and I soon began riding much more frequently. Nowadays, I keep a couple of suits, dress shoes, and other necessities in a cabinet at work. On days that I do drive to work, I bring in fresh shirts and such, and I try to keep several days worth on hand. That simplifies things quite a bit, as I have less to worry about and less to pack up in the mornings.

Last year, I was able to manage a bike-to-work average of 50% -- not bad considering the climate of NE Ohio. I was hoping to beat that this year (I measure by school year, by the way, not calendar year) and back in the fall I was well on track to do so. But this past winter was absolutely brutal. Weeks passed without temperatures rising above single digits. Snow and sleet were unending. I barely managed to ride at all during January and February, and even March and April provided limited opportunities. Unfortunately I won't make my goal this year, but I will at least still finish the year above 40% -- I don't like it, but I'll try not to feel too disappointed. Some would still find it respectable.

I hope the awareness of "Bike Month" might spur some others to think about how they might be able to work bike commuting into their own lives. Sure, not everyone is able to do it. My own commute of 14 - 15 miles is workable for me, but any longer than that would probably be pushing the limit. But I'd encourage others to look at the obstacles keeping them from riding to work -- it's possible that, like mine, those obstacles might just be easier to overcome than we imagine.