'Bout to get up close and personal with some Vitus 888. Steel is real, and none more so than old french steel at that. 'specially old French steel with english threading. (!) I will try to post some pics when it comes back from the shop in a day or two.
You have been warned . . .
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Friday, April 4, 2008
What is a ledirtsmurf, anyway?
If you got here, you are probably wondering. (I am wondering how you got here too -- leave a post and let me know!)
If you know me, then you probably have a guess. If you don't, then you need the back story. So here it is.
In my early 20's I was going to grad school and doing a lot of road riding, a little road racing, and fair bit of local mountain bike racing. Back then the 2 core books available to guide cyclist training were Eddy B's book, Bicycle Racing, and Greg LeMond's book. They both recommended cyclocross as a great form of winter training. By sheer coincidence, my brother and I had already seen the 1987 cyclocross nationals in Bremerton, Washington, so I knew what 'cross was. We had been blown away by the technical skills that those riders had. (From my current perspective, the course seems like more of a novelty than a real 'cross course - there was a huge mud bog, an 18"- or 24"-tall concrete retaining wall that some riders managed to bunny-hop up, and, just for good measure, a short jaunt through a livestock barn replete with a deep carpet of wood-shaving animal bedding.) I was more interested in the mountain bikes, but there was no doubt the racers on "real" cross bikes were faster. The hook was set.
I ran across a local ad for someone selling a 'cross bike cheap. I called up the number, drove a few miles, and picked up my first CX bike. It belonged to a woman who had recently had a baby, and didn't have time to race. (Not something I could relate to back then, but I sure can now.) I don't remember much about her except that she was tall, kind, and very fit. The bike was a Raleigh Technium road frame, three aluminum main tubes glued into steel lugs, with steel stays and a steel fork with canti mounts brazed on to them (that was a dumb thing to write -- where else would they go?). She told me that a friend of hers who worked in the Technium plant in Kent had fixed it up for her. Anyway, it was white with purply-blue tape stripes, and it didn't take very long before that color scheme inspired me name it le dirt smurf. When I got it, it had a single chainring setup with dual custom chainguards made from ground-down chainrings; a 6-speed friction bar end for the back end; and those strange gray michelin "mud" clinchers with the wide shallow chevron tread pattern. The wheels were heavy Rigida rims on some sort of low-end hub. This was around 1991. The thing was built like a tank and rode like one too.
Anyway, I railed around on that bike all winter, careening around on muddy grass, blasting through puddles, sand and gravel, practicing horrifically uncoordinated dismounts, and generally riding like an idiot in the worst possible Seattle winter weather. It was fun. There was something perversely enjoyable about heading out to ride precisely when any sane person would be curling up with a book or flipping on the TV to wait out the storm. It gave me kid-like pleasure at a time when I was grappling with what I wanted to do as a "grownup."
But after awhile I realized that at 56 cm it was too big for me -- especially for 'cross, and probably even just for riding around on the road. So I loaned it to a friend of mine, a casual rider in dire need of a bike and lacking cash. She rode it for years until the rear rim sidewall wore out and caused a blowout. She was OK, thank heavens, but understandably didn't want anything more to do with it. By then I was working in a bike shop and had temporarily kicked the CX habit, so I sold it to a taller friend of mine on the cheap, and he rode it as a rain bike/grocery getter.
The last I heard, le dirt smurf had snapped a canti mount and my friend had to have one brazed back on by our shop's frame builder. I lost track of the bike after that. But even now, 2o years after my first ride on it, I can still feel the wild, silly, exhilarating, crazy joy of railing around on dirt in weather bad enough to drive everyone and everything under cover except me and the ducks. For me, that gritty muddy wet warm chilled adrenalin rush, that sensation of heart-pounding speed over rough ground, that stark panicked two-wheel sliding recovery joy, that Proustian sense-memory of hammering away at a hard effort of goofy intense play, is what le dirt smurf is all about.
And so, ladies and gentlemen, I give you . . . ledirtsmurf.
Welcome. Just don't drag the rear brake.
If you know me, then you probably have a guess. If you don't, then you need the back story. So here it is.
In my early 20's I was going to grad school and doing a lot of road riding, a little road racing, and fair bit of local mountain bike racing. Back then the 2 core books available to guide cyclist training were Eddy B's book, Bicycle Racing, and Greg LeMond's book. They both recommended cyclocross as a great form of winter training. By sheer coincidence, my brother and I had already seen the 1987 cyclocross nationals in Bremerton, Washington, so I knew what 'cross was. We had been blown away by the technical skills that those riders had. (From my current perspective, the course seems like more of a novelty than a real 'cross course - there was a huge mud bog, an 18"- or 24"-tall concrete retaining wall that some riders managed to bunny-hop up, and, just for good measure, a short jaunt through a livestock barn replete with a deep carpet of wood-shaving animal bedding.) I was more interested in the mountain bikes, but there was no doubt the racers on "real" cross bikes were faster. The hook was set.
I ran across a local ad for someone selling a 'cross bike cheap. I called up the number, drove a few miles, and picked up my first CX bike. It belonged to a woman who had recently had a baby, and didn't have time to race. (Not something I could relate to back then, but I sure can now.) I don't remember much about her except that she was tall, kind, and very fit. The bike was a Raleigh Technium road frame, three aluminum main tubes glued into steel lugs, with steel stays and a steel fork with canti mounts brazed on to them (that was a dumb thing to write -- where else would they go?). She told me that a friend of hers who worked in the Technium plant in Kent had fixed it up for her. Anyway, it was white with purply-blue tape stripes, and it didn't take very long before that color scheme inspired me name it le dirt smurf. When I got it, it had a single chainring setup with dual custom chainguards made from ground-down chainrings; a 6-speed friction bar end for the back end; and those strange gray michelin "mud" clinchers with the wide shallow chevron tread pattern. The wheels were heavy Rigida rims on some sort of low-end hub. This was around 1991. The thing was built like a tank and rode like one too.
Anyway, I railed around on that bike all winter, careening around on muddy grass, blasting through puddles, sand and gravel, practicing horrifically uncoordinated dismounts, and generally riding like an idiot in the worst possible Seattle winter weather. It was fun. There was something perversely enjoyable about heading out to ride precisely when any sane person would be curling up with a book or flipping on the TV to wait out the storm. It gave me kid-like pleasure at a time when I was grappling with what I wanted to do as a "grownup."
But after awhile I realized that at 56 cm it was too big for me -- especially for 'cross, and probably even just for riding around on the road. So I loaned it to a friend of mine, a casual rider in dire need of a bike and lacking cash. She rode it for years until the rear rim sidewall wore out and caused a blowout. She was OK, thank heavens, but understandably didn't want anything more to do with it. By then I was working in a bike shop and had temporarily kicked the CX habit, so I sold it to a taller friend of mine on the cheap, and he rode it as a rain bike/grocery getter.
The last I heard, le dirt smurf had snapped a canti mount and my friend had to have one brazed back on by our shop's frame builder. I lost track of the bike after that. But even now, 2o years after my first ride on it, I can still feel the wild, silly, exhilarating, crazy joy of railing around on dirt in weather bad enough to drive everyone and everything under cover except me and the ducks. For me, that gritty muddy wet warm chilled adrenalin rush, that sensation of heart-pounding speed over rough ground, that stark panicked two-wheel sliding recovery joy, that Proustian sense-memory of hammering away at a hard effort of goofy intense play, is what le dirt smurf is all about.
And so, ladies and gentlemen, I give you . . . ledirtsmurf.
Welcome. Just don't drag the rear brake.
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