Earlier this month, I parted with my remaining vintage roadbikes: a 1982 Bianchi and a 1978Francesco Moser. Both bicycles ended up going to people I know, and their futures look promising. The Moser will be built up as a geared roadbike again and ridden by a long-time local cyclist.TheBianchiwill get a make-over and may end up riding in theEroica. The bikes moved on to greener pastures, leaving me with only my Rivendell to contemplate lessons learned and a direction for the future.
I've been experimenting with vintage roadbikes since last summer, which has included riding other people's bikes and also buying a few for the express purpose of playing around with them. The bicycles I've tried in this manner have included examples of American, French, Japanese, English and Italian bikes from the late 1970s and early '80s. Not an enormous sample, but a nice beginner's crash course. Somewhat to my surprise, I found that I liked every Italian bicycle I tried, whereas the mid-tier French bicycles felt the worst. The Japanese bikes were comfortable, and I could see the roots of Rivendell's philosophy in their geometry and handling. It was very interesting - but ultimately unsustainable.
For one thing, even if a vintage bike is in good condition, it takes me a great deal of resources to set it up in a way I find ridable: Usually I have to change the brake levers, the handlebars, and - if I want to comfortably switch gears - the shifters. Not only does this require time and money, but it also ultimately changes the bike's character.However, the bigger issue is that trying a modern roadbike this summer - and enjoying the benefits of its light, easy-to use components - has made me realise just how far I'd have to go to get the same level of performance out of a vintage bike. Assuming that I can find one in the correct size for me and with a sufficiently light, good quality racing frame, I would have to then put a modern wheelset and component group on it, as well as structurally alter the frame in order to make that possible - all just to determine whether the complete bike will be up to par. It does not seem like a practical endevour to me.
Considering the kind of cycling I have been gravitating toward, I would ultimately like to have three roadbikes: a fully equipped touring bike that is capable of going off road, a fixed gear bike,and a "racy" bike that is suitable for competitive cycling. The first I already have. The second I am finally working onafter a year of riding a conversion. And the third will be my next priority. I feel guilty that I don't see vintage in the equation, but practical needs trump aesthetic and historical interest. When I am older and have more time and money, I would love to collect gorgeous, historically significant vintage frames. But for now I would like to ride more, tinker less.
Meet Rodney, the Raleigh Roadster! According to the date on the hub, he was produced in 1972.
Rodney is a tall gentleman, with a 24" frame and 28" wheels. The Co-Habitant likes big bikes, and one of the reasons he chose the Roadster over the Sport is the larger frame size and wheels.
The original Raleigh grips have been replaced with cork grips, which will soon be shellacked. A Japanese bell was added.
The Brooks B72 saddle had hardened with age, but it has now been treated and laced. The bicycle itself was in great shape. No parts needed to be replaced. Cosmetically Rodney looks excellent. The vintage black saddlebag was included in the purchase. CatEye Opticube LED Bike Light have been added (see front wheel).
The Co-Habitant says that the vintage Raleigh Roadster feels considerably lighter and "sportier" than his Pashley Roadster Sovereign. The Pashley, however, is a more comfortable ride (and can be safely ridden in the rain).
Just a regular ride home. Don't mind the beautiful architecture.
On Sunday I made the decision to stop buying public transport passes and see whether I would feel comfortable getting around solely by bike.
Three days of commuting (I work on Sundays too when I am here), and so far so good.
Bike lights at an intersection.
And another intersection. Cyclists are asked to wait for green.
Huge intersection along the Donaukanal. If you look closely, you can see the ferris wheel of the Prater park way in the background, over the bridge.
Pedestrians getting ready to cross, and probably wondering what in God's name I am photographing. And yes, I always have at least two cameras on my person, in case you've noticed the one around my neck.
Last major intersection, and home is just a few blocks away. So there you have it. With commutes like this, I almost want to sing Nice Work if You Can Get It (if only I didn't have to do it for 60 hours a week)!
Cycling on Cape Cod is a remarkable experience. Earlier I wrote that we had been looking forward to the Cape Cod Rail Trail. We have now been on it twice, but to tell the truth it is not my favourite place to cycle on the Cape. Don't get me wrong: It is a nice, long trail through attractive wooded areas with relatively few interruptions. It is a great resource. But the special thing about Cape Cod is its abundance of coastland: the open ocean and bay views, the coves, the miles of saltwater marshes and sand dunes. The rail trail bypasses all of that, and so I feel that cycling on it does not capture the essence of the area. For a real "wow" experience, I recommend cycling along the National Seashore - a 40-mile stretch of coastal nature reserve with breathtaking views. You will have to cycle on the road with motor vehicles, but the route is very bike-friendly.
If you are hesitant to share long stretches of the road with cars, you can arrive to the National Seashore via the Rail Trail (pdf map here). Towards the very end of the trail in Wellfleet, turn right on Marconi Beach Road (above two photos) and this will take you right to the dunes. This road is spacious, virtually free of traffic, and breathtakingly scenic. It ends at Marconi Beach and the Marconi Station Observation area.
At the end of Marconi Beach Road is this beautiful landscape of sand dunes, tall grasses and miniature trees - on a hill overlooking the ocean.
And here they are gazing at the ocean.
The Co-Habitant joins them in Thoreau-like meditation.
Here is 
Exhausted but pleased, 
I could see this ristra display down the ally way we couldn't get into.
One of the first things you see when you get to the top of Sandia Crest is all the TV and Radio towers that tower over the Crest. Many of them have been there more than 40 years, and others are newer. It seems to be the best place to have these communication towers. You frequently see men working on them. This day there were several trucks from Qwest Telephone Company which supplies all the landline phones in Albuquerque and most of NM and some other places.