700C =/ 27x1 1/4

I knew this, of course. I just wasn't really thinking about it. I ordered some new wheels for Miss P, 700C (622 mm), with a flipflop rear hub. They came yesterday and I put 'em on. The front brake will reach ok, but the rear one is far far far from the rims, and no way to adjust it further out. One doesn't need a rear brake on a fixie but it looks sort of goofy to have the wrong size wheels on there. More incentive to learn how to repack hubs and redish that old wheel to keep Miss P period-correct. I may even get those old brake levers back, my Cane Creek ones look oversized and awkward on the moustache bars.

The chainline looks pretty good but it's hard to tell without a chain on there, so that's the next step, plus some tires and tubes. I think I'm about 3mm off but my measurements are inexact. I'm hoping I don't have to redo the bb because it spins real nice now...maybe some spacers.

We're getting there, folks, petit à petit.

Setbacks

Saturday night Edith and I went out bar hopping, starting at Joe Squared and finishing in the apartment of some arrogant climbing people. I'll start at the beginning.

We parked on Howard and approached Joe's, and lo and behold six fixies were locked up to the parking meters nearby. We quickly spotted the group inside but they were clearly keeping to themselves, so instead of talking to them we played Photohunt and secured the high score with the help of a nice guy named Ramadan. Moving on to Brewer's Art (the downstairs) we spotted a guy who'd been at Joe's and cast our eyes about for boys to talk to. Sure enough not ten minutes in some girl comes up to us and says "You really need to join this conversation over here," and drags us five steps to two dudes. One announces he makes climbing holds at Earthtreks and the other starts crowing about climbing competitions, but neither of them are very interesting. Climbing competition just seems oxymoronic to me. What I like about it is you're pitting yourself against yourself, in the company of others. Not trouncing people.

Despite their arrogance we agree to join their gang of Earthtrekkies back at Dude 2's place after Brewer's closes, just you know, to have a story. Dude 1 climbs out the 6th story window into his apartment in the next building to bring back beer, but I didn't see it. We chat with the various people but poor Dude 2 gets nowhere with Edith, and we take off.

The last time we went to Joe's looking for boys to talk to we ended up finding climbers too. Either it's a series of unlikely coincidences, or there are way more people climbing than I realize.

Sunday we go to the Farmer's Market and I am still on the lookout for fixies. Edith is getting rather interested too as the boys who ride them tend to be attractive. Sure enough, a beautiful dude wheels his blue Peugeot by us as we're eating our breakfast crepes and we stalk him through the market as I explain to Edith what makes a fixie recognizable. As we walk back to the car I see two bikers coming down Guilford and know immediately they're fixed; Edith asks how I know and I make up some stuff about how they just look different. You know it when you see it. It's probably a combination of realizing they're not coasting, plus their clothing/hair/style, all adding up in my head.

Monday I go to the JHMI recycling meeting, which is awesome because a) they're super energetic and b) I have all this useful knowledge to offer them. Tuesday we climb and go to Dizzy's and Dave and Camillia announce they're getting married (hooray!). I'm at my limit and Sean and I leave to bike home, but on our way out we're stopped by a retired guy in a suit who says "Hey! You guys look like bike people, lemme buy you a drink!" Of course I say yes and we end up talking to him for a lot longer than necessary and have two drinks. Oops. The guy has 13 bikes at home, including two Colnagos (one a track bike, which he promises he'll let me ride). Eventually we escape but as I'm unlocking my bike the key gets stuck. Then snaps off in the lock.

After much swearing and an attempt at removing the bus sign on the top of the pole, I give up and take the wheels and seat off. Dave and Camilla walk me home. The next morning, feeling like crap, I go back to the bike, ask campus security to unlock it (no, because it's not on campus) and also the Police Escape and Apprehension Unit. All they have are boltcutters, but are unwilling to help. They do point me toward the Auto Repair joint across the street. A voluble guy is sent to help me out but his boltcutters are useless against the Kryptonite, and we can't get the key out. Another guy comes up and takes over, and cuts off the sign's bolts with a saw. By this point we're getting lots of weird looks but whatever, I look respectable in a skirt and it's my bike and we're putting the sign back together so I'm not worried.

Ray is bolting the sign back on after we've lifted the bike over the pole, and only then do the four cop cars show up. "Do you know people have been calling in about you?" "Well, no." "What's goin' on?" "I broke my key off in the lock and we're lifting the bike over the pole and putting the sign back on." "Oh, well ok." My reply gets relayed back as the cops approach. Elaine from Dizzy's gives me a wink and explains that a lot of parking signs have been cut down in the neighborhood lately, because they feel it's too restrictive. I guess it's good that people are watching out for the 'hood and it's nice to know that cops can be laid-back.

So now I have the lock still on my bike, which is another hassle. Kryptonite says they'll reimburse for a locksmith but I think they're lying. Only one way to find out.

BB Adjustment

I had a couple drinks at happy hour with the young work crowd and biked home. Everyone is busy or out of town so I figured I'd go down to Velocipede and get some advice on my bottom bracket. It would have been nice to ride the Nishiki with Miss P's frameset strapped to my back, but I was lazy and drove.

Museum dude was there and told me to talk to Beth, who checked my work and said "Hm, there's a lot of play in there. Better tighten things up!" So I tightened up the fixed cup which made the spindle not turn. Oops. Christian was there and feeling helpful so we messed around with bbs and grease and tools and after much fiddling got the spindle in there pretty good. Put the cranks on to try it out and Hellyeah! she spun nice and smooth, no play at all. Nishiki guy rolled in, and he works in my organization! I'd never seen him in the hallway or nuthin', so we chatted a bit and I searched for more crank options. No luck, though I did find the box with all the left cranks in it. It was kind of a sad little box, all these guys with no partner, hoping to be matched at least with a right crank of the same length and general shape. Made me hope I don't end up like that....where's my sugino right crank arm and chainring? Then again, will I really be happy when I find him? How will I know he's the right one?

So it's back to ebay (for cranks, not boys!). Patience, grasshopper. The right deal will come along. In the meantime, use lots of grease in those cups and make your fine adjustments so that things run smooth when they finally arrive.

Swappin' Cranks

So Saturday night was interesting. I got in my car after five days of not looking at it and realized that all the seatbelts were buckled, except the driver's. I'm sure I locked it.

Total mystery. Does a stranger's Honda clicker also unlock my car? And this is a way of telling me, without malice? Nothing else was disturbed - CDs were there, iPod charger, ice scraper, everything. The change was still in the change thingie.

So I picked up Jessie's crank-puller and went to work on Tuesday swappin' cranks between Miss P and the Nishiki. Crank puller worked like a dream once I figured out its secret. But then I hit a snag - that stupid stuck chainring bolt on the new crankset! This was holding up EVERYTHING and my tinkering soul needed satisfaction. So I got in the car and drove down to Light St. and ordered up some crank bolts (needed) and a couple tubes (also needed) and then asked if they could help me out with the chainring. No problemo, they have the tool. I even found a nice parking space in this side street, where a 12 year old girl holding a very small dog was saving a spot for her mom.

No, I didn't take her mom's spot, there were two. I'm not that evil.

So I got home and switched the 42 tooth chainring off the Nishiki crankset onto the new crankset and everything was going gangbusters until I put the new crankset on the Nishiki. I tightened it up and voilà!

Nothing turned.

It went on too far, and the chainring was up against the chainstay. Drat!

So I had a beer and took off everything and put all the cranks back where they had been originally. Just for kicks I put the new cranks on Miss P's shiny new bb and they spun so nice I thought I'd been visited by angels. If only I could find the right tool (36mm wrench; I have the lockring tool) to tighten up the fixed cup. I think I'd be all set.

Now I'm waiting for those wheels to arrive and to find a 42tooth crankset. And Jessie's crankpuller worked so hot I want one for myself...good thing old bike hands move into retirement homes and have to clean out their garages every so often....

Tall=Smart?

So two women at Princeton wrote some really dumb paper for the NBER stating that "taller people earn more because they are smarter."

Yeah, sorry - huh?

Everyone knows that nutrition and height are correlated. Back in the Dark Ages no one at vegetables or meat and soldiers were tiny (you've seen those suits of armor at the museums, haven't you?). Industrial Revolution came along and baddabing, baddaboom, average heights went up all over the world. Even China is catching up to Sweden in average height!

The paper says that kids at age 3 score higher on cognitive tests if they are taller, "before they've even started schooling." Well, nutrition and cognitive ability are (gasp!) also correlated! Who knew?

They attempt to disprove the other half of the taller=higher earner phenomenon, where employers prefer to hire and promote taller people, especially for managerial and executive jobs. But not very well. Mostly they just mention it at the beginning and forget to put it into their equations later.

So, are taller people smarter? Maybe. But they're not smart because they're tall. I think these ladies may need a refresher course in causality.

More research is needed....
do taller people get paid more for the same job?
do taller people get hired/promoted more/sooner than shorter people?

Economics can explain a lot of things, which is why I like it so much. But it's embarrassing when it really misses the boat.

Pignon Fixe

David writes from France, letting us all know that "Pignon Fixe" means fixie in French.

Linux

Just in case you weren't sure, my snorting out loud at this youtube Mac/PC spoof proves how big a dork I am. I particularly liked the voiceover at the end - hey, I am in public health.

I sure hope this blog doesn't turn into a bunch of links to goofy youtube videos. Lord knows there're plenty of 'em.

Inspiration

So it turns out, not surprisingly, that there is a large contingent of fixie-lovin bikers out there in the old cyberspace. And like ants around a stray peanut they congregate at www.fixedgeargallery.com, posting pictures of their new and old conversions, stock bikes with upgraded parts, boyishly jostling for wackiest handlebars, sickest gear ratio, and most punk-ass color scheme. You can do searches for your frame (Peugeot!) or your pedals or yo' mama, so of course I looked up to see what the mixies and the moustaches were doing. Here are a few examples:

















Mostly dudes on the site, of course, but a lot of ladies too. Someday Miss P will be up there with the fancy Campy-only builds and the trackstars.

Fixin' Miss P

I'm breathing new life into my mom's 1975 Peugeot UO-18, a white mixte frame that has seen better days. The old Simplex derailleurs were trashed (the front one has been useless for over 10 years; the rear, operational but brittle). Dad and I put on Nitto moustache handlebars last year and new brake pads, levers and cables, along with some fetching red handlebar tape. Little Miss P was looking foxy, but soon enough she will be even more stunning.

Dat's right folks, Miss P's gonna be a fixie.

I'm not quite sure how all this bike stuff started, or where I got the idea that I could do it myself (Sheldon Brown, overpromiser, your technical know-how goads me into action!). Johanna and a trip to London convinced me I could bike to work; Sean and I split two pitchers one night and biked home recklessly; the sense of moral superiority I have while biking is better than most other highs. Plus, there are tools and hardware and tinkering involved. I love tinkering.

So I stripped off the old derailleur and chain and accoutrements, dismembered the bike and flailed away at the cottered cranks before succumbing to the reality of my own inexperience and lack of appropriate tools. Took her into Light Street Cycles where Tim got out the power saw and attempted to cut through the spindle. Nary a dent. "Gee, this old 70's steel is pretty good," he said. So then he went after the cranks instead, slicing them right open along the cotterpins. Shazaam!

I degunked the BB shell and installed my shiny new japanese french thread cups and spindle. Still working on the adjustment and am hoping to swap the 165mm cranks off my new Nishiki for a crankset I got from the bike co-op. Got drunk Saturday night and bought a Formula/Alex wheelset off the internet along with a 15t cog and a lockring, so when those come I should almost be ready to work on the chainline. In the meantime I took a steelwool pad to my dingy chrome forks and polished them to a high sheen. The old Lyotard pedals are gonna look slick too once I get through with 'em.

It's nice to have a project again. Back in Gabon I made shelves and hinged mosquito screens and fancy lighting setups for my house, but it's been a while since I've had the opportunity to putter around and learn new skills. It's fantastic, but my cocktail conversations are a bit one-sided.

[me] "Dude, I heard you might be able to help me out with something."
[Art dude I met a couple times who stretched my Dominican Republic rooster painting] "Whatcha need?"
[me] "I need to pull some cranks."
[Art dude] "Sweet. I got a crank puller in my studio."
[awkard silence]
[me] "So maybe I should get your phone number or something?"

I also watched Breaking Away for the first time since 1986 and hotdamn! is it better the second time around. What a tight little coming of age story it is, with (bonus!) bike geek scenes! Watch as he chases girl on scooter after picking up her notebook from his bike without a wobble. Revel as he drafts off the Cinzano semi-truck and gets up to 50 mph. Rock out to the montage-eriffic sequence where he fixes up the old bike before the Little 500 and trues the wheels. Sigh when the Italians crush his dreams, and his father gives the old heart-to-heart. Cheer when his friends tape his bloody feet to his pedals for the final laps.

A perfect, compact little movie, especially when accompanied by three Natty Boh's. Go Cutters!