Saturday, October 30, 2010

Born in the Bathtub

Where have I been? I didn't realize it was trendy to be born in a bathtub. I just figured it was the safest place in the house for a prototype Terry frame and fork built for me by Waterford. The cats can't knock them over if they're in the bathtub. And the bathroom doubles as my workshop. So this blog is about my bike, which was born in the bathtub.

"My next bike" is always going to be my last bike. It will be perfect and there will be no need for another one. Thank goodness this is never true! Such is the life of a bicycle designer. We're always trying to achieve perfection.
I've been riding a beautiful Valkyrie Tour for the last year and enjoying it immensely. I've also been devouring Bicycle Quarterly back issues and enjoying them immensely as well. There's a recurring theme that runs through this magazine: the idea that a well-designed bicycle is about more than just a good fit. It's about harmonizing with the rider and playing the road like a bow plays a fine violin.
How does this happen? Well, a lot of things come together in a very synergetic way. This bicycle doesn't understand the word "stiff". But it does understand that bumpy roads will beat you up and rob you of power. (And in the real world, every road is bumpy -- just look at one closely in the late afternoon sun…). This bicycle believes it's okay to "give back", meaning a little frame deflection is a good thing. (Way too much to explain here, but see this site for a full explanation).
I want this bike. I want to ride the rippling roads in my favorite haunt and feel them disappear beneath me. I want to stop reaching for a lower gear just because the road tips upward a bit. I want to get off the bike after six hours in the saddle and feel totally refreshed. Valkyrie is a wonderful bike, but its raison d'ĂȘtre is touring. It's made for that rider who might load it up with 60 pounds of gear and hit the road for weeks at a time. It's just a little too much bike for me, the 100 pound cyclist who's no powerhouse, but who can go all day. It's still a great ride…but it's just not perfect.
So, armed with ideas from Bicycle Quarterly, I called Marc Muller, the chief designer at Waterford, and together we came up with this magical bike. The frame geometry is quite similar to the Valkyrie Tour. But there's some subtle stuff going on with respect to the tubing in the bicycle. My choice of components is part of the solution as well, with the tires being one of the most important. I also opted for the Nitto Randonneur handlebar on this bike. I was a little skeptical about the drops of the bar, which tend to flare outward a bit, but it feels great and works with the natural position of my hands.

I rode this bike for about 300 miles a few months ago and couldn't wait to get on my rippled roads. Magic! I felt like I was floating over them, yet I was still firmly connected to the road (no bouncing around) and getting a good return on my energy investment. Riding into the wind, I was definitely working hard, but the push back was solely from the wind, not from the bike. There was also a day of riding when I was feeling a little out of sorts from a flu bug. The bike was reassuring even then -- adapting well to my occasional sloppy riding, not chastising me for it.

And is this bike coming soon to a store near you? Well, I can't guarantee that a particular store will carry it, but by early 2011, you'll see it on our website, where you can purchase it directly from us. The name of this model? Precision. In tribute to the very first hand built Terry bicycle that launched The Original Women's Bicycling Company!
Tailwinds,

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Lunch with Cy

Monday, the day after the Wild Goose Chase, was a perfect kind of wind down day. Sunny and calm. The perfect day to ride with my friend Cy on some of the sweeter roads in the area and talk about what a great weekend it was and how much more we can do next year.

It was hard to come home this time. It always is -- that's just the effect Blackwater has on me. How lucky I am to know that emotion. I think this visit was so special because of all the neat people who came back into my life after a long absence. You know how you can just pick up with old friends you haven't seen in years? It's like all those years just blew by. The familiarity hasn't been lost at all.

I met Cy many years ago when Terry first started doing one week bike tours in Vermont. Cy was a leader on one of those trips. If you had the good fortune to meet Cy at the Goose, you know what I mean when I say she's just one of those really cool people you run across in life. A true free spirit. Our paths finally crossed again this August when Cy led our Terry Tour in Vermont for Sojourn Tours. I casually mentioned to her that she should hang out at the Goose on her way back south after the bike tour season ended. So, imagine my surprise when I was out riding Friday before the Goose and the cyclist approaching me turned out to be Cy! Ah, such is the nature of a free spirit.

Then there's my college roommate, Barb. So long, see ya after college graduation. Out of sight, but never out of mind. An email out of the blue a couple of years ago and the next thing you know, Barb volunteered to run registration at the Goose. Just picking up where we left off. Telling people about our incredible dorm room, Chips Ahoy in the middle of the night and way too much Gallo on the weekends. Hey, with a room like ours, it was the party room!



Ride over, it was time for a very late lunch. Apples from New York and Vermont. Gu from....Gu. One of our super sponsors. And we didn't forget the Raw Revolution energy bars. Many thanks to those guys, too. I wouldn't trade cycling and old friends for anything. Life's perfect combination.

Tailwinds,

Georgena
georgena@terrybicycles.com
www.terrybicycles.com

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Baggage

I can't believe how much "stuff" I take on vacation. Just the electronics alone: 2 iPods™ (need a back up -- no fun driving 9 hours each way with no tunes), an iPad™, an iPhone™, a MacBook Pro™, a digital camera, a Flip® video camera and all the necessary battery rechargers and AC/DC converters...oh, and a mouse because the trackpad makes me nuts after a while. Binoculars and field guides. 60 packets of Gu®, containers of Heed™ and Perpetuem™ and Recoverite™. Supplements, since it's tough to eat right on the road and I need all the nutrition I can get for 10 days of riding. Oh yeah -- clothes. Street clothes, bike clothes. And tools -- in case I need to repair something. A spare wheelset. Helmet.

And let's not forget: the raison d'etre: THE BIKE!




You know what? If I forgot everything except the bike, I'd still be happy!

Tailwinds,

Georgena
georgena@terrybicycles.com
www.terrybicycles.com

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Freeing a Stuck Seatpost

Last week, I began an overhaul of my hybrid bike, Moo. Moo is a very special bike. It began life as Mt. Marcy, our original mountain bike, named after the highest peak in the Adirondacks. When we decided to introduce a hybrid with a cow theme, Brian Moredock re-painted the bike and it became Moo. I have many fond miles on Moo and wouldn't trade it for anything.

Moo is very outdated, though. It was time for the 7-speed set up to give way to newer baubles, so hence the overhaul. As I tore the bike down, all went smoothly until I got to the seatpost. It wouldn't budge. Moo is steel, the seatpost is aluminum. Jerry Kraynick, who owns Kraynick's Bike Shop in Pittsburgh (and who is my bike mechanic mentor), claims that Archimedes said he could move the world if he had enough leverage. Like a lot of women, I embrace leverage wholeheartedly! So, it was off to the basement and the workbench vise to put leverage to work.

Ah the beauty of steel. I could feel it springing under my coaxing, but the seatpost wasn't impressed. Having built frames, I really didn't feel comfortable applying any more torque to the frame than I already was. Brute force needed to give way to something else.

In rapid order, I exhausted the easier possibilities: ammonia soaks (aluminum oxide hates ammonia), carbon dioxide blasts on the seatpost interior (aluminum contracts more than steel), prying apart the seat lug ears. Nada. I'd reached the bitter end: time to start cutting.

I cut off the top part of the seatpost, leaving about 1/2" exposed. Then, with a hacksaw, I started two cuts down the inside of the seatpost, 90 degrees apart. This was painstakingly slow and intense. My goal was to cut down as far as possible without cutting all the way through and slicing into the seat tube. So, I'd saw for a while, then blow out the chips and shine a light down the seatpost to see how I was doing. I was tending to hold the saw at an angle that meant I was cutting deeper toward the top of the seatpost than the bottom. This wasn't bad, because I was able to pry the upper part away once the cut was deep enough. Just seeing some of the seatpost come free was encouraging. You know how you tear a piece of paper off a pad at the perforations? That's what I was trying to do -- get the aluminum down to such a thin piece that it could break away easily.

After many, many hours of tediously sawing, checking, sawing, coaxing, sawing, checking and coaxing some more, the wedge finally broke loose and the remainder of the seatpost popped free! It was one of those moments I will cherish forever. A right of passage of sorts.

Here are some photos.

The first shows the two wedges -- the smaller one on the left was the wedge I worked with.


Here's a shot of the interior of the wedges. If you look closely, you'll see a little ridge on the outside edge of the wedges. This is just how close I was to the seat tube itself. It looks like about 0.5 mm.


 And here's the source of the problem. Doesn't look like much, does it? The inside of the seat tube is surprisingly clean; there's just the normal oxidation I'd expect to see. My theory is that even though I greased the seatpost, by the time it slid into position, more grease was scraped off the bottom of the post than the top.


These are the tools I used. The needle nose Vise-Grip was great for working in a small area. I chose an 18 tooth hacksaw blade because it cut a wider swath and gave my wedge a little more room to move...once it started moving. And I went for the expensive one!

I blame myself for letting this happen. I habitually check the seatposts on all my bikes a couple of times a year to make sure they are lubed and moving freely. But somehow, I took good old Moo for granted. Big mistake! I think I'll have a t-shirt made up that asks "Have you checked your seatpost lately?"

Tailwinds,

Georgena
georgena@terrybicycles.com
www.terrybicycles.com