Rideability

You know what's wrong with the law? I don't mean any specific law, but the law in general. Yes, just like any specification, it's never precise enough (even though it's written in legalese), but I wasn't thinking about that. What I was thinking about is that there's not enough pictures. Like, for example, I hear that they've got a law that says you can't ride your bike on the road, if there's a cycle path adjacent to it. (You look it up, I can't be bothered.) And furthermore, they tell me (on the forums) that you're only allowed to ride on the road with a cycle path adjacent to it if the cycle path in question is not rideable. The law doesn't say exactly what "not rideable" means though.

They could make the legislation clearer (not to mention more interesting) if they put some pictures and examples in it. Luckily, there's the internet, so bicycling authorities (disclaimer: actual authority not verified) such as myself can easily publish some examples for the public, and courts, to judge things by (disclaimer: actual applicability in a court of law not verified). 

We'll start with an easy one:




Verdict: rideable. 

What about this one, is this rideable or not rideable? 


Verdict: not rideable. However, that was a trick question: there's not a cycle path underneath the snow there, it's just a sidewalk.

How about this one? Yes, there's a cycle path in there somewhere.




Verdict: rideable, you wuss. 

Ok. What about the next one?



This one is pretty typical in wintery Helsinki: the cycle path is in a hideous condition, and the road adjacent to it has been licked clean. It might be possible to ride this, if you have enormous thighs, and an enduro bike. It would seem pretty stupid to try it on a city bike, such as the one pictured, though. 

And yes, 10 metres up the road it seems evident that the cycle path is totally gone: 


Verdict: Not rideable. Please proceed to ride on the road.  

When confronted by conditions such as these, year in year out, one begins to form the idea that the rideability of a cycle path is relative: it depends on your choice of bicycle, state of mind and general obedience to the letter of the law.

Take a look at the same site a couple of weeks later, for instance:

They've taken the huge bank of snow away, so yes, basically, it is possible to advance on a bicycle on this cycle path. However, they've left a 10 cm cake of bumpy, uneven ice and snow on the cycle path, while the adjacent road remains licked clean. Riding on the road, it's possible to keep up a decent average speed comfortably. Riding on the ice, some parts of the bicycle and your teeth begin to fall off from all the rattling and bouncing. It's slow, uncomfortable and hazardous. The level of maintenance for this cycle path doesn't even begin to address the requirements for fluent bicycling. They've just, narrowly, fulfilled the minimum obligation. The road adjacent remains free of snow. There's very few cars going there. There's only a 40 kph speed limit. Verdict: the cycle path is not rideable for a sane person.   

More ambiguity:

There's not a question of moving to an adjacent road here, because there isn't one. I'm just complaining. If it is below zero, this cycle path is horribly slippery, bumpy and uneven. If it is above zero, this cycle path is horribly slippery, soft and treacherous. Both ways, the weather is fine for bicycling. It's the level of maintenance that sucks. It would be possible to maintain this cycle path so it would be good for bicycling. They just don't do it, for whatever reason.

Here's an example of a cycle path left care of Mother Nature since the latest blizzard (a couple of weeks ago) with the temperature a couple of degrees above zero:  

Verdict: rideable (but horrible, profane cursing while riding is allowed). Optimistically thinking, riding a bike in conditions like these improves one's balance a lot. 

Then again, there's not only snow, but other kinds of obstacles as well, that can render a cycle path not rideable. Like, for instance, the vehicles of Rakennus Tapsa and his four colleagues, parked directly on the public cycle path, while Tapsa and co. are embiggening the Hartwall Areena:

Verdict: not rideable. I believe that even Danny McAskill himself can't bunny hop on top of this van from the ground. Possibly, if that bank of snow is hard enough, it could be used as a ramp for hopping on the windscreen, and then to the roof, but it does seem awfully difficult, even for Danny. But what do I know about trials.  

But if Danny McAskill, Chris Akrigg or some other skilled trials rider were advancing the cycle path from the other direction, they could rather easily bunny hop on top of the first sedan, and then keep on hopping from the roof of one car to another, provided that the gaps between cars aren't too wide.  

Verdict: rideable (for Danny McAskill or equivalent), not rideable for regular people.

BTW, when confronted with obstacles of the automobile-y kind parked on the cycle path, I believe that the correct way to get rid of them is to call the parking surveillance hotline (in Helsinki, 09 - 310 39000) and leave a request for parking surveillance, not to destroy the obstacles yourself.

Know Your Drivetrain pt. II

What does a family man do when the family goes away for a week?

a) Works loads of overtime
b) Drinks loads of beer
c) Listens to loads of heavy metal very loud on the stereo
d) Eats nothing but loads of hamburgers, while standing over the sink (in order to avoid having to wash the dishes)
e) Goes to loads of sauna (every night)
f) Sets up a bicycle repair shop in the living room
g) All of the above.

Of course, the correct answer is g). A week home alone can truly be a bicycling nerd paradise.

Of course, when you set up a repair shop in the living room, you've got to be careful with the appliance of solvents and grease, as well as with cleaning parts with compressed air. Better do that outside, even though it's cold there.

So, the drivetrain of my MTB requires some attention. I lately got a new chain, as the old one was too short and worn, but should have changed the cassette and chainrings at the same time. A couple of weeks ago, when the snow situation was the worst it's been this winter, I suffered from a bad case of chain suck when using the middle chainring. Can't figure out exactly why though, the chainring seems ok to me, but maybe it's just too worn.


First, the specs:

• the gruppo is Shimano XT, except for the front derailleur, which is XTR
• the toothing of the cassette is 11-32 (9 speed)
• the chainrings are 22-32-44
• the length of the cranks is 175 mm
• the bottom bracket/crankset system is Shimano Hollowtech II.

 Here's the crankset and the new parts:

Yes, no new big chainring. It would have cost as much as the cassette, and I'm cheap, and I figured that the old one will work ok for some time. After all, who really uses the big chainring on a MTB? 

Here's the old cassette. It might not seem worn, but yes, it's worn.

BTW, the new wheels I speculated of purchasing some time ago I indeed did purchase, and they're fine: 

Wow. Admire the thing the front derailleur is attached to - it's crabon fribé:

Or at least it looks like it with the fishy kind of patterns. There's some damage from a skipped chain. Hope it doesn't fail completely. It might be difficult to get a spare one.

BTW, I see that my repair stand has been designed by a person who knows what bicycle repair is all about: there's a beer holder in the tray!

Now, to dismantle the crankset. Some months ago, I solved an annoying clicking issue in the drivetrain by tightening the bolts of the chainrings as tight as I could (that is white-hot-shit tight, scientifically speaking). But opening them is a mother*ucker, if you don't own a special three-pronged tool for holding the counterparts in place - they just spin through. I finally managed to open them with the aid of a vise and a steel square. (I just looked it up - the special tool is called a nut wrench. Gotta order one of those.) 

Here's the crankset with the new rings:

And the new cassette. Installing a cassette has always gone without problems for me, and I've installed at least two. Actually, that's amazing. They've managed to design one part of the bicycle that's ham-fisted-idiot-proof.  

Ok. I managed to replace the cassette and the chainrings, and for once I'm not in an insane hurry to wrap the thing up and go to sleep. In fact, I think I'll leave the bicycle in the living room and overhaul the jockey wheels tomorrow. If I were a bachelor, I'd always have at least one bicycle disassembled in the living room.

Ah. Sweet, peaceful solitude. Just blissful, calm silence, except for the heavy metal blasting at deafening volume. And, of course, myself belching at deafening volume every now and then. I think I'll go to the sauna now.

Ode to Merino

For years I used to dream of better sports garments. Ones made out of a better material than the synthetic fibres they usually are made out of. Ones that wouldn't smell like a rotten carcass even though you wash them after each use. Ones that would be warm, comfortable and durable. I used to dream of these, assuming that the sports garment technology is not yet advanced enough to create such materials.

Well, I've learned that in fact, there is such a space-age, hi-tech material. But it wasn't invented by the scientists of NASA. It was invented by these guys:

It is also fabricated by the same guys and it's called Merino wool. I now have several garments made out of Merino wool, and I love them all. In fact I think that in the future I may wear nothing but Merino. Take this base layer shirt for example:

My strategy for bicycling in the winter used to be something like this:

• get loads of cheap base layer shirts made out of synthetic fibre
• wear one shirt for one day of commuting
• store used shirts in a sealed container (because of the smell)
• wash the five used shirts each Friday
• throw away the horrible, stretched out of shape, carcass-like-smelling shirts come springtime.

I purchased cheap shirts because I thought, well, that there's no point in getting more expensive ones, as they will smell like carcass anyway after some months of usage, and have to be thrown away.

But then I heard of this wonder material called Merino. I purchased a Merino wool base layer shirt for some 50 €, although that is a bit expensive to the Budget Cyclist's standards, figuring that if it's really good, maybe I can get another one. But the shirt's been so good that it hasn't been necessary to get another one. It is warm, it dries really fast, it stays in shape, and most wondrous of all, it doesn't smell. I repeat. It. Doesn't. Smell.

I'm amazed because of this fact. Now, I may occasionally be kind of a smelly guy. I like chili, curry, garlic, beer, wine, and my personal hygiene may tend to be lacking in certain... ahem, I digress. What I was saying, this shirt doesn't get smelly even though I wear it while commuting for several days straight without washing it. It gets those white salt stains from the sweat, but it doesn't smell. I'm not sure if I can make this clear enough: it doesn't smell. Because I have a rather inferior sense of smell, and my wife has a very good one (a bad combination), I even had her verify the quality of the shirt once. She smelled the shirt, that had been used by me for a couple of days, and didn't find it to have any unpleasant qualities. Now that is something.

I also have an idea that bicycling and Merino wool go together in a certain very pleasing manner. Even though man has created various highly complex technical inventions to transport stuff, or move fast, such as cars, aeroplanes, and rockets, the bicycle remains the best invention for certain purposes. The bicycle is simple, fast, effective, natural, environmentally friendly, good for you and brilliant.

In a similar way, man has strived for improvement in the field of clothing by creating synthetic fibres out of petrochemicals. However, it is complex, difficult and perhaps wasteful, ecologically speaking. Still, the best material for clothing may still be one created by animals, naturally, effectively and in an environmentally sustainable manner.

In a certain way, that I can't really explain to detail, I find similar aesthetically pleasing qualities in bicycling and Merino wool. Damn, I'm a hippie! 

Freehub pt. II

It's that time of the year again, when the temperature goes below zero, and bicyclists like me, who've neglected to maintain their freehub regularly, end up looking silly and/or dead. That's because when a dirty freehub freezes, the pedals spin freely both backward and forward, thus making the bicycle not move forward while pedaling. If it happens in the middle of a busy intersection, with a truck speeding towards you, you might end up looking silly, pedaling furiously without moving, and dead. If it happens in a more safe environment, you just end up looking silly. Yeah, it happened to me last year. I mean the looking silly bit, not dying, obviously. 

So, after attempting to commute to work one frosty morning with a not too well maintained MTB, and ending up looking silly, it became necessary to dismantle this:

Also, I wanted to do it because it is fun.

As you can see, the freehub is kind of dirty and rusty, which is no wonder with all the mud, water and crap it has to endure.

Some of the lock nuts on the axle were so tight I didn't manage to unfasten them with my not-so-professional collection of tools:

In fact, I even had to resort to DIY tool modification, as I didn't own a 17 mm flat wrench that was required. Luckily, these flat wrenches are soft so it is easy to file a 16 mm one into a 17 mm one: 

 It didn't matter that I couldn't unfasten the lock nut on the brake disk side though, because the ones on the drive side came off. 

 Here's the dirty freehub body and axle:

And the freehub body after some washing with solvent and drying with compressed air: 

The freehub is clearly finished though. It hardly even rotates when turned with fingers and needs to be replaced. Also, the surface on one of the bearing cones has suffered badly, and has to be replaced as well:  

But then again, although not visible in the picture, the surface of the bearing cup of the rear hub has been damaged as well:

It is not possible to replace just the cup, therefore the entire rear hub should be replaced. Possibly, I could just put it all together and ride on until spring, but that wouldn't seem a satisfactory solution for a prefectionist perfectonoist not too shabby a guy anyway like me.

Let's see. The rear hub model is Shimano FH-M756: 

A new rear hub costs some 50€ at CRC. BTW, a freehub body for 9 speed costs more than 30€, so it would seem more reasonable to get the rear hub even though I needed only the freehub body.  

But if I purchase a new rear hub, then who will build the wheel for me? No way I can do that myself. You know, I do intend to learn wheelbuilding, but I'd rather do that when I have more time, patience, space and a wheel truing stand. Like when I'm retired. In a garage. With a wheel truing stand.

Besides, a set of spokes costs money too. And if I intend to replace the rear hub and the spokes, should I replace the rim as well while I'm at it, as a new one only seems to cost some 30€? The old one seems okay, but with all the trouble and cost, there seems to be no point in saving 30€.

So, let's see... rear hub 50€, rim 30€, spokes 20€. If I'm not mistaken, that adds up to... carry the one... 100€. As I don't intimately know any wheelbuilders, the labour would cost some 50€. Perhaps I better look into new factory wheels. Damn, this thing is just spreading... soon I'll have myself convinced that there's no point in repairing this one and I must get a new bike altogether. "My house is dirty; buy me a clean one!".

But hey, wait a minute... what's this section, MTB Custom Wheels? Wow, this looks good. You get to choose a rear hub, rims, spokes, nipples and rim tape. The price seems reasonable too. For some 100€ I could get a similar, brand new rear wheel that I have now. Oh, and must check the bearings on the front wheel as well before ordering.

Besides, what's 100€ for maintenance of the vehicle I mostly use to transport my physical being to and from work? Nothing! What would I get with 100€ if I drove? 60 litres of gasoline. What would I get if I used public transport? Two months. Phew. I'm beginning to feel it's my holy duty to order new custom wheels, both rear and front, as soon as possible, if only to ensure the uninterrupted supply of sustenance for the family. With possibly just some small things on the side...

If only my wife read this blog. Then I wouldn't have to justify all the online purchases, verbally, yet again.

DIY Guide: How To Replace Sports Instrument Band for Ham-fisted People

Good evening. Here's another episode of those popular Budget Cyclist's DIY Guides. Today I'll show you how to replace a broken band of your Garmin Forerunner 405 sports instrument.
 

Above, the sports instrument with the broken band and a replacement band.

1) Inspect the tool used for the assembly. This comes with the replacement band. Resembles a tiny fork somewhat, doesn't it? 

 

2) Inspect the sports instrument. Better lock the touch bezel, so you don't mess up the settings while replacing the band. 

 

3) On the back of the instrument, there are small holes. Fumble around in the hole with the tool for awhile, and the band should come off.

 4) Voilá! This is a piece of cake.

 5) The band is attached with two tiny thingamajiggies with springs inside. Those clocksmiths are geniouses.

6) Inspect the now-bandless sports instrument and the new, unbroken band. 

 

7) See the tiny hole there, in the band? Thats where the tiny, springy thingamajiggie goes. Or, should I say, springamajiggie. 

 

8) Er... the springamajiggie goes there. Now, simply put the band on, then fumble around with the tool provided, and... this is harder than I thought. Wait a minute. Damn! It almost went there. Try again. Careful... careful... don't break anything... now, if I'll just... almost there... heck! How the hell is this supposed to be possible? I should have three hands to do this. It's just impossible to... see, it's f**kin hard to hold this round bloody thing and then the band and simultaneously... DAMN! SHIT! FUCK! Why didn't they attach instructions of any kind to this? There must be some kind of a clever way how this CRAP! This is just fuckin' impossible.

(Continue trying for 20 minutes or so...)

  

9) Give up. You're a man, with big, manly hands anyway, and this kind of tinkering stuff is for girls and sissies. Shake fist at the bloody instrument. 

  

 10) Put the parts back into the plastic bag. The next day, take it to a clocksmith's to have the band attached by a professional.

 11) Have a beer to calm your nerves. Oh, have two.

Learning curve pt. IV: first off-road group ride, first OTB

Scotty relaxing after the mud bath and a good wash.

Today I finally lost my OTB virginity. I managed to go along on a ride with a couple of big boys (i.e. mountain biking connoisseurs) in Nuuksio, Espoo (excellent trails!). On the first kilometer, I succeeded in submerging my front wheel completely in a deep mud hole, and went over the bars. The bike was left standing leaning against a tree, rear wheel in the air, in quite a stylish way, while I was lying face down in the mud. I wish there'd been someone filming.

(Come to think of it, I think I've gone OTB before. When I was about 8, we dug a hole in the ground, about 1m deep. I thought that it would be cool to ride a bike in it. Of course, I landed on my chest, and it hurt like hell. Well, thankfully I did that at 8, it would have been miserable to lose one's virginity at near 40.)  


It was pretty clear that I was a complete newbie in the group. The other guys had to wait for me at each crossing of trails. I'd had no idea that the mountain bikers who know what they're doing go that fast. I'd even had no idea that it is possible to ride that fast on trails full of rocks, roots and mud. I've got a lot of practicing to do.

Being a (former) roadie, naturally I have no muscles whatsoever in my upper body. Instead I've got huge thighs. Well, not exactly. Actually, my physique is more of the Andy Schleck-esque variety, than of the track cyclist, monster-thigh kind. But anyway, now that I've taken up mountain biking, I've noticed, for the first time in my life, that some muscles in the upper torso are required as well.

Andy's physique

At the moment I'm unable to open any bottles with screw tops because my hands and arms have taken a serious beating. Luckily, beer comes in cans that I'm still able to open, so I'll drink those instead. I and Andy know that beer is an excellent recovery drink (see the picture).

Some other things I learned today:

• 100 mm of travel in the front suspension is nothing these days. You've got to have 150 mm. Well, I'm glad to hear that, because that at least partially explains my slowness today when compared to the other guys. Now, it seems, I've got to slowly start warming up the wife for the inevitable oncoming upgrade of my mountain biking equipment (a new bike). The steering angle in my old Scott is different from the bikes of today, I hear, so putting on a fork with 150 mm of travel is not an option. 
• You've got to have a CamelBak. Mountain bikers don't drink out of bidons. You get left behind at stops, fumbling to get the bidon out of the holder and back in it. Besides, bidons get very muddy on the bike frame, and mud tastes no good. Well, most sports drinks that I've tried taste no good as well, so I guess that's not so bad.
• Remember to let some air out of the tyres before going on a ride on trails. I usually fill up the tyres to about 2 bars when I commute on the mountain bike, because that makes me faster. On the trails that is too much pressure. 
• A Garmin Forerunner sports watch gets a GPS signal just fine in the back pocket of a bicycling jacket. The band of my Garmin broke a few days ago, so I tried duct taping it to my arm. The tape didn't hold, so in the middle of the ride, I put the device in my back pocket. To my surprise, it continued to record just as well there. 
• A carbon seat post doesn't impress mountain bikers anymore. You've got to have an adjustable-height seat post these days. Unfortunately, said seat posts cost some 300 €, and I'm the Budget Cyclist, and therefore can't afford one. At the moment. Perhaps, in the future, if I manage warm up the wife real good... or sell one of my livers. Or sumt'n. 

Roadies: I have to inform you that, we, the mountain biking dudes, know something you don't. That something is a wonderful thing. I'm sorry I can't tell what it is though. It's not that I don't want to, but it's just not physically possible. In order to find it out, you've got to get off-road. 

Learning curve pt. III: dirty is my sunscreen

Today, we have something special instead of the same old same old. For a change, I'd like to interview my bicycling buddies.

First, let's talk to the rear tyre of my mountain bike, Mr. Nobby Nic:

Budget Cyclist: How's it going, Mr. Nic? 
Nobby Nic: Well, this Sunday, I'm feeling great, 'cause man, I'm finally getting some action! 
BC: Yes, you seem to enjoy mud?
NN: Yeah, baby! Bathing in mud is the natural thing for me to do. This is what I was built for. If only I'd get to do this more often... but I'm afraid that you, Sir, are a wuss. 
BC: A wuss? I just rode over some roots, and a while ago, over a whole fallen tree trunk. Also, some puddles.
NN: Oh, come on, wussy boy, the roots were small ones, you're riding very slowly, and it's not even wet. And yeah, you managed to finally get over the tree trunk, after hesitating and contemplating about it for some five minutes.
BC: Well... I'm just getting the hang of it... 
NN: And what's up with clipping your left foot out of the clipless pedal every time you see a "tricky" obstacle? Come on man, just ride! You'll never get the hang of it if you just chicken out all the time! 
BC: Now, shut up, tyre, or I'll... uh... I'll ride you over some really sharp rocks!
NN: Yes, please, do that. I'm  made out of Triple Nano Compound, so sharp rocks just scratch my itch real good. Besides, it's no use threatening me, you need me more than I need you, chicken boy. *Imitates a chicken*
BC: Well... touché. 

Oh boy, that tyre's got a bad attitude. Let's talk to someone else then. Hi, there, my socks, are you enjoying it here in the woods?

Lefty von Rohner (the left sock): Dear heavens, no! This is barbaric. Please, get us out of here!
Righty von Rohner (the right sock): Listen, my friend. We belong on the road. We're accustomed to milder climates, such as the ones in Central Europe. We're uncomfortable on the roads of Finland, let alone these frightening, dirty trails. 
BC: What? I think you look cool, in a Michael Jackson kind of way, and you're not even that muddy, yet. 
LvR: Oh, please, this is hideous. I know we're just going to get splattered in mud soon. We've only been spared so far because you're riding as slowly as a paralyzed snail granny ascending the Mont Ventoux.
RvR: Yes, Sir, you should forget about this mountain biking nonsense, you're really doing better on the road. And why not move to a civilized country, such as our beloved country of origin, Switzerland! 
BC: Yeesh. My clothes are beginning to rebel against me. This is ridiculous. Ok, I admit it, the other mountain bikers do dress a bit differently, but I like the roadie look, and it's not that unsuitable for the trails...
RvR: Oh yes it is, believe us. Just ask your leg warmers, they're trying to escape too. 
Corretto Campagnolo (the right leg warmer): Si, signor, we agree with the socks. Please, let us go. We hate mud, and also all the sharp, pointy tree branches.
Sinistra Campagnolo (the left leg warmer): Si, we admit it, we tried to escape, because we are desperate. It was futile though, because below, there was mud, and above, there's some kind of a scary, hairy crevasse, that does not seem penetrable...
BC: Oh, fuck you, wusses. I shouldn't have asked you anything, you're such complainers. Look, it's just mud, and you'll get to go to the washing machine when I'm finished...
NN: Not me! I wouldn't touch a washing machine with a ten foot pole, except if it was turned over and you were trying to ride over it...
BC: Shut up. This interview is over. Let's go.
NN: ... although I doubt you'd have any chance of succeeding, the way you're riding, unless it was a really tiny washing machine...