Partners

One of the interesting things about starting over is that you have the opportunity to use a lot of verbs in your internal monologue (or your blog) that start with "re".  Reimagine, redefine, reassert, rediscover -- things like that.  All good words, but the truth is that you can't wipe your personality or base of experiences clean and start over for real -- all of those "re" words happen in the context of you as a formed person.  A person possibly willing to grow and live beyond old boundaries, sure -- but not someone truly new.  I've said this before, but I like reminding myself of the obvious.

Anyway, so as I think about the kind of social life I want to build for myself as I "start over", I can't help but reflect on the lessons of my adult life -- to consider what's worked for me in the past, and what hasn't.  I wrote about cooking as a vehicle for creating social engagement a couple of posts back, for example, and of a desire/intent to use it again that way.  And though I've used cycling as an escape of sorts in the past, it's important enough to me not to stop, just because of that particular misuse -- I do need to remember to live around my hobbies, though, rather than escape into them.

But the most important lesson of my adult life relates to the experience of partnership.  That's a word my sister finds too businesslike, and I understand why, but for me, it fits.  I've had relationships where I've felt like a parent, times where I felt like prey, and still others like a punching bag.  But I've also had relationships where I've relished each engagement -- where each exchange gave me the opportunity to truly give and truly receive.  One, in particular, fundamentally reset my aspirations for relationships.  In that relationship, the collaboration -- the ability to share and challenge -- extended pretty much across the full spectrum of who I am as a person, and though I can't speak for her, I hope she'd say the same.  Whether talking professionally, cooking together, reading shared books or listening to shared music, exploring places together, cycling together, or sharing my most private thoughts or physical being, I got as much as I gave, was pulled as much as I pushed, and learned as much as I taught.  As an experience, it was nothing less than breathtaking.  Life-changing.

Things are different, there, now.  But that kind of connection is like a drug, and it's something I hope I'll recapture (another "re" verb, there) or recreate someday.  It can't be forced -- I think it can only come from the chemistry that exists between two people who happen upon one anothers' paths at the right place and the right time.  So as I venture out into the world as a single guy, again, it's not something I'm necessarily expecting to find, or even seeking out.  Really, I'm more interested in exploring and experiencing right now.  But I'd be open to finding it, or recreating it.

I don't know how many times in one's life that kind of lightning can strike.  But even if it doesn't come again, the experience has changed my understanding of how things can be, and I'm forever grateful for that.

All for now,

J

One Rideable 650B Schwinn World Sport

Apart from some remaining accessory work (installing the rack, bell, front water bottle cage holder, and trimming the kickstand back an inch or so), Juliana's old chromoly Schwinn World Sport is now finished and ready to ride.  It's wet out there today, but she could take it out for a spin if she were so inclined.

The bike is set up as an all-around sort of ride, with slightly poofy (32 mm) Rivendell tires, centerpull brakes, drop bars, a Brooks B-17S saddle, a kick stand, and interruptor levers to give the rider braking capabilities from not just the hoods and drops, but also the bar tops.  As the bike is accessorized, it'll gain a rack, another bottle cage, a bell, and a saddle bag fitted with a blinky.  I can even hook Juli up with a basket if she wants a little more carrying capacity.  Basket or no, it should be a sturdy and user-friendly bike for Juli to use pretty much anywhere she'll want to go, whether the route there involves grassy or packed trails, or smooth or rough roads. 

The build itself was pretty straightforward, with really only two areas that posed a challenge.  I've already written about the unorthodox headset configuration I chose, so I won't belabor that.  I'll see how that setup holds up.  In the worst case, I'll need to find another chrome fork for the bike, but I'm not anticipating having to do that.

The brakes were the second area where a little thought was required.  It's a ladies'-style frame, as you can tell from the pictures, not a mixte.  The big difference is that the brakes are located at the usual position -- mounted to a brake bridge on the seat-stays, rather than where they might be mounted on a mixte -- on a brake bridge down on the mid-stays.  Mixtes normally have their brakes located there, because the brake cable follows the path of the twin top tubes, and run straight onto the rear brake.  This bike's brake cable followed the top tube, but that put the brake cable a long way away from and below the rear brake.

This bike was designed to use with a sidepull brake caliper whose cable routing is opposite the norm, in that the housing stop and adjuster are located where the cable nut normally is, and the cable nut is located where the cable housing stop and adjuster normally reside.  Brompton has a caliper like this for use with their folding bikes, but I didn't really want to have to buy a pair of sidepulls for the bike, I wanted to use a set of centerpulls I already had on-hand, and for those calipers, the cable needs to come from above, not below.  Some improvisation was called for!

My first thought was to route a length of housing from the cable stop near the top tube/seat tube lug, up to a seatpost clamp-mounted cable stop -- maybe using cable ties to hold it in place as it ran along the seat tube.  Unfortunately, I predicted this would provide for sloppy and probably stiff rear braking and really messy, in-the-way routing -- there had to be a better option.  Maybe some sort of pulley to redirect a naked brake wire to the caliper from below?

The good news is that back in the days when Mafac, Weinmann and Dia-Compe center-pulls ruled the road, there were plenty of ladies' and mixte-style frames, and not all of them used mid-stay mounted brakes.  Some of them used brakes mounted on a seat stay, just like Juli's Schwinn.  And for those types of frames, a neat solution had already been devised by at least Mafac-- a pulley, as it turns out, just as I wondered about.  Actually, I'd probably seen one before and half remembered.

I bought the pulley for maybe $15 on eBay, and it bolted right up to Juli's seatpost clamp, using a binder bolt I had on hand.  Then I picked up a clamp-on cable stop from Rivendell, which let me use housing to redirect the cable from the top tube up along the seat tube.  I inserted an inline adjuster, as well, having had great luck with them on the Schwinn, and needing some way to adjust the brakes.  The result is as shown, and it works just great -- not too much friction in the cable, despite the fairly tight bend.  I've got a long-reach Dia-Compe 750 on the back, and a standard-reach 650 on the front, and installed some Yokozuna pads with the Scott-Mathauser red compound.  They seem to bite just fine, either from the drops or the tops, and I expect they'll be more than adequate for Juli's weight.

The drivetrain is the same set of components from her Fuji -- Shimano 8-speed bar-end shifters (set to friction), RX-100 derailleurs, and a 165 Tru-Vativ crankset.  A standard-range 7-speed freewheel (13-28) and wide-set front chainrings should give her more than enough ratios, albeit a little more widely-spaced than with a contemporary 20-speed bike.  She'll be pushing through the Rivendell/MKS Grip King pedals I bought for the Schwinn several years ago, then opted out of.

It's not the best frame ever devised, with slightly hokey rear dropouts without alignment screws.  But it's a nice build by any reasonable measure.  Barring theft, major damage or something else unforseen, this bike should carry Juliana through her middle school years and into high school.  When she stops growing, and assuming she's still actively riding, I've promised her one more bike from Dad.  That'll likely be a new one, not a build-up of old parts like the Fuji was, or this Schwinn, and it'll come already built, not as a project.  It's my hope that at least some of the excitement of getting a new bike is tempered by the fact that it won't come in the form of a father/daughter project.

All for now,

J

Finding the Center

I used to entertain a lot.  Back in college, I was one of the few guys who lived off-campus, in my own apartment.  So a few times a year, I'd have a dinner party, and generally speaking, I'd wow my friends with a good meal.  That pattern continued after I graduated, hosting a small-ish group of friends, and sharing food I'd prepared for or with them.  And again, the reviews tended to be pretty favorable (except for that time I made a squid risotto which might be best described as intense).  I used to cook for dates, too, and that was a good look for me. And when I got married, the pattern continued, with dinner and cocktail parties hosted on a pretty regular basis.

Eventually, though, all of that ended.  My ex-wife and I had our first child, which meant that dinner parties weren't really practical anymore.  Adding our second child made that even more the case.  And somewhere in there, our relationship started to degrade, and I/we didn't really want to collaborate, or share my/our disintegrating home with friends, anymore.  Then came the collapse, and while the rubble was falling, opportunities to even consider entertaining were few and far between.

But eventually the collapse stopped, and I started getting out of the bunker again. Mostly, I'd meet people out, or go to their place.  But without really thinking about it, over the summer, I had my sister and her husband over for a nice Tuscan dinner, and I had friends here and there over for breakfast.  Then at Thanksgiving, my oldest friend was in town, and asked if I wouldn't mind hosting a bunch of his friends (mostly acquaintences to me) and their kids for a brunch. I hesitated at first, and was even a little put off, in truth. But he's my oldest friend (since we were 9), and I said yes.  It turned out to be a great party, with over 20 people in attendance.  And I think maybe Dan knew more about what I needed than I did.  I spent most of the time working in the kitchen, but people filtered in to chat and help out, and I ended up having some great conversations with people I don't know well or haven't seen in a long time.

I gave that experience a lot of reflection, in the weeks after.  Then this holiday season, I found myself facing a holiday without a partner, without my kids on Christmas eve or morning, and a much shorter list of family members who would be around than usual.  Honestly, I was a little worried about how this Christmas was going to feel, given all of that, so I decided to try using the role of host to expand my holiday a bit.  I held an open house Christmas day, inviting friends and acquaintences to come by any time to share food, drinks and holiday cheer.  Then a few days later, I hosted a friend and his family for brunch.  Both were really satisfying, and after the brunch in particular, I felt I'd reclaimed a part of myself I'd lost. Now I'm thinking about hosting friends for dinner, cooking for dates, and even about what kind of kitchen/DR layout to seek in my next home, once I finally sell this place.

I'm sure rebuilding my social life isn't going to happen overnight -- my life is pretty complicated and busy, with the dog and the kids and a new job and trying to move and finalizing the divorce.  But it feels like I may have found my social center again -- maybe rediscovered the tools I need to make 2011 a better year than I've had in a long time.

All for now,

J

Holiday Break

This weekend and most of next week, I'll have my kids with me here at the house.  And as a special project with each of them, we're going to finish a major stage of each of their bike projects.

For Juli, that'll mean taking the derailleurs and control levers off the Fuji, mounting them on her Schwinn, cabling the bike up, installing a chain, and wrapping the bars.  If we have time, we'll move over the bell, trim the kickstand an inch or so to get the right lean, modify a Pletscher rack to fit this frame properly, and install the handlebar water bottle cage mount.  And with that, her 650B Schwinn conversion will be ready for a ride.  There's snow on the ground right now in Boston, but it may vanish before next week is up.  If so, she may get a test ride in before the new year begins!  I'll write up a summary of the conversion when it's done, including the couple of interesting-to-me challenges in building up this frame.

For Ava, the task is a little simpler -- to tear everything that's left on the Fuji off, and assemble a build kit in a box for next winter.  And also to get a spec sheet together for a frame builder to make a few modifications, as well as officially choose a color.  This last is sure to send Juli up in smoke, so I'm going to do that with Ava on a night she'll be at a sleepover party.  At the moment, I'm thinking like this:

• Braze on a derailleur hanger on the right rear dropout, so I can ditch the adapter claws (which I needed on both sides to make the rear QR clamp properly)
• Braze on a pair of water bottle cages on the down tube, so I can ditch the paint scratching clamps
• Braze on a pair of cable stops on down tube, again so I can ditch a clamp-on stop
• Braze on a piece of half-inch bar stock over the brake bridge to serve as a mounting point for the Pletscher rack, so I can ditch the clamps

You will notice a pattern on these last three.  If I'm going to get the bike repainted, I'd rather not clamp a bunch of stuff onto the fresh, expensive paint job and mess it all up.  I'd rather spend a bit more for proper bosses for all of these things.

Then the rest will be simple -- strip it to bare metal, pull off the head badge, degrease, paint the desired powder blue and reinstall the head badge.  This is all sure to cost way more than is sensible to spend, but that's OK -- she's my baby.  Ava, not the Fuji.

The build kit for that bike is pretty much all set, too.  I need to reclaim the Shogun from my friend who borrowed it, take the 105SC front and rear derailleurs off of it, pick up a pair of chainrings for a 160mm crankset I have, and voila!  C'est tout.  Oh, plus cables and eventually whatever color housing and bar tape Ava wants.  But that'll be it, for sure.  I've even picked up a kickstand for that bike, and will cut it short, to fit.

I'd like to put 40 miles on the rollers this weekend, too -- we'll see how I do with that goal.

Happy holidays everyone.  And here's hoping for a healthy, happy and prosperous 2011!

All for now,

J

Defeat

Defeat is temporary -- or it isn't.  Apart from mortal combat situations, which way this swings really depends on how you respond to defeat.

Defeat -- loss by another word -- can be awful.  It can tear at your soul, your self-esteem, and your heart.  And if you've been hit by loss after loss, it can be hard to keep perspective, or know when the free-fall will stop.  But the bottom will come if you let it -- if you let each defeat weigh upon you only temporarily.  If you study each to figure out what went wrong.  If you learn a new rule each time, or what to do next time.  Or not do.

Or you can cling to each defeat as an emblem of your failure, and make it part of yourself.  You can take that path.  But if you do, the free-fall will be longer, and the losses will keep coming -- possibly until you have nothing left to lose.

Better to take from each loss what you can, then let it go.  And ultimately easier.

All for now,

J

Forward

I'm adding no new wisdom to the world by delcaring it here, but there's really no going back, in life -- only forward.

Back is a tempting place.  Back was known.  It may have been safe.  But trust me, it's gone, and can't be recaptured.  The important questions don't relate to how to get back to something that was, but rather how to go forward.  What to forge -- what new reality to create?  With whom?  And when?

Scary stuff, going forward -- lots of unknowns.  But standing still isn't living, and there's no going back.

You knew all that.  But sometimes I forget.

All for now,

J

How much is this hobby costing me?

I was just reading the comments on one of Velouria's recent posts over at Lovely Bicycle. The topic was budget bicycles and whether it's better to buy something cheap or something used.  That got me thinking about my bike projects and how much they've cost me, and honestly, those are numbers that are best not thought about.  I probably have $1500 into my Schwinn's build, for example, and it's worth maybe $500 on eBay, if I'm lucky.  The Motobecane was a gift from my friend Steven, but I've probably got $500 into that in components and accessories.  Probably more.

Then there are the girls' bikes.  Juli had three bar/stem/lever setups on her Fuji in the two seasons she rode it.  Two of these required new parts, each to the tune of $150 or so.  Then the bike itself cost $300 or so, shipped, and there are cages and the rack and the saddle bag and her Brooks saddle to consider, not to mention the upgraded front derailleur, brakes, tires and tubes, cables and housing, and the cranks and pedals.  $1000 all-in wouldn't surprise me.  Two seasons!  Now, it's true that Ava will be on that bike for a couple of seasons, herself (maybe even 3), but it's going to cost me $5-600 to get it ready for her, once I'm done cannibalizing it for Juli's Schwinn, and getting it repainted.

Then there's Juli's Schwinn.  The frame was cheap, and the fork was, too -- $200 total, I think, with shipping.  The cranks, derailleurs, shifters and brakes were all on-hand or cannibalized from the Fuji.  The headset, stem and bars were new for this build -- that's $100 or so.  The wheelset cost me $200 for the parts and $250 for the class!  And I've got another $300 in miscellaneous components in there, too -- 650B tires and tubes, kickstand, cable stops, hangers, the brake pulley thingy, etc...  I'm guesstimating here, but that one is quickly inching towards a thou as well, even without the wheelbuilding class costs factored in.

On the other hand, I'm not exactly cutting corners on any of these bikes.  My taste in components and accessories tends towards the expensive, and I always seem to end up paying way more on eBay than I can sell the same parts for when I move onto something new.  And the only money I spent on my Schwinn this year was for a new wheelset (crash) and the fenders and saddle bag I bought for my trip to Italy.  So apart from the crash and two purchases for a specific purpose, I pretty much just rode it.  All it needs right now is a replacement big ring, to replace the one ovaled by baggage handlers.  Likewise, the Motobecane got a little spend early this season, as I sorted it out for its intended role, but very little over the summer (bar tape).  It shouldn't need anything to get me through next season -- maybe tires, depending on how much the rollers chew those up this winter.

Anyway, I guess the answer is that as hobbies go, this one hasn't been particularly inexpensive for me, and that most of that spend is impulsive on my part -- discretionary, not mandatory.  I think one of my New Year's resolutions will be to spend no more than $100 each on the Schwinn and Motobecane in 2011.  I'm sure it's possible -- the question is whether I have the discipline to stick to it.

Juli's Schwinn is looking more and more like a bicycle, by the way.  I'll write more another time, but it has wheels and tires installed, and is awaiting transplant of the drivetrain and control levers.  This is good fodder for the coming Christmas school vacation.  Then we can cable and tape it, and it'll be roadworthy, and ready for a test ride and its final accessories!

All for now,

J