Stranger than...

On the Burnside drawbridge, waiting for a passing tugboat, observed this fellow bicycle commuter talking to the air. BMXers will immediately identify the clear Odyssey Twisteds.

Gravity-Powered.

The "Gravity Powered Vehicle mini craze" was long dead by 1988, but I'm not surprised to find the mantle raised again and burning brightly in Portland, Oregon, 2010, just ten blocks downhill from the Zoobomb pile.

Saturday night, my cousin Trey and I happened upon this fellow parked at Voodoo Doughnut, and I instantly identified his custom "GPV" as a DK SOB.

"It was the heaviest frame I could find," hippie Clint explained (as per the gravity-powered premise).

Although it's a confusing sight at first, the bike is sitting right-side-up, with a seat welded to the chainstay wishbone. The handlebars underneath turn 90 as knee rests, and you can see disc weights hanging down below.

The handlebars (SBC 4-piece Strips) also turn 90 but remain inverted, with curved tubing tack welded in place for additional hand positions. (Also note the vintage S&M Ditchforks.)

Clint says he stopped riding bmx around 2001, and after we waxed bmx-nostalgic for a few minutes, asked if I knew of anyone selling a complete bike for cheap. "Nothing too light," he said. I said I would put him in touch with someone who might be able to help and took down his email address.

(Caleb, I'm looking at you.)

...

Two nights later, Trey and I were out on another late ride when the red foldie suddenly fell apart in Trey's hands. He avoided crashing, but I confess that his look of bewilderment was priceless, as the bike slow-motion folded in half beneath him. Serendipitously, we were just then directly in front of Voodoo, and so were Clint and his taxi, reggae gently bumping. He was quick to offer his help and the use of his tools. The confusing repair took our combined concentration more than ten minutes to work out, bending and hammering and furrowing our brows, everything finally slipping together effortlessly in one fabulous aha moment. A cotter pin from Clint's tool bag clipped it all permanently in place.

The satisfaction of the experience was palpable, not to mention the value of Clint's tools, the cotter pin, and not having to walk a bike home. We expressed our gratitude and insisted on tipping him a few bucks, against his protests.

Project: Free Bike.

Caleb and Ben approached me with a radical proposal in November: would I accept the gift of a complete, custom, modern bmx bike, to replace my unreliable-but-unkillable warship built at the peak of the heavy bike trend almost ten years ago?

36 lbs. Details here.

I did not say "Yes" immediately, for a few reasons. Firstly, I was uncomfortable accepting their generosity. My bike's fabulous obsolescence was due financially not to lack of funds, but to my paralyzing aversion to spending--and it didn't seem fair to accept for free what I could honestly afford. Caleb and Ben countered this point by assuring me it would be done at approximately zero expense, just drawing parts from the existing local surplus, since basically any change would amount to an upgrade and a savings in weight. They also pointed out that, furthermore, while I might be able to afford the upgrade (certainly a free one), the true roadblock was my own inertia and lack of time. And they convinced me that they would enjoy the project and the opportunity for an act of service.

After some deliberation, I handed over my bike and what spare parts I had laying around with the instructions to use, keep, sell, or donate it all. I just wanted one complete bike and no more extra parts taking up space in my closets. I resolved to detach completely from all expectations and embrace whatever I received, which was hard at first, but then thrilling. I told Caleb and Ben that the most important thing to me was that they have fun.

I am amazed. Here is the breakdown:

Frame: Caleb's 2004 S&M Stricker, mountless, 20.5"

Before (stream-of-conscious paint pen & sticker job):

After:

Castillo Bars from DBZ. I think the orange spray over maroon is genius.

Redline Device fork. Blue spray over navy. Also genius.

Solid headset, circulating through Caleb's friends since 2003.

Odyssey Griswald grips. I bought these new at Goods and love them. They're the thickest grips I've ever seen. Designed by Ben Ward.

Shadow Attack front-load stem. Caleb did make the disclaimer that he wasn't sure how I would feel about running a Shadow Conspiracy product. He was right to wonder, but I just find it funny, and I like how it resembles the old Death Neck. I think the bolts are hollow.

Profile 180's. So pleased--I secretly hoped Caleb would keep the orange and black.

My old Cielenski pedals.

KMC 510 HX chain. Pieced together from spare links by DBZ. I think it's the chain endorsed by Sean Burns, which makes me feel safe.

Shadow Crowgora sprocket. 30t. Another Shadow product??? Yep, and it's even purple.

Metal Bikes Pivotal seat & post. I think DBZ was going to give these to me out of pity, but he actually made me trade him a pack of Newports for them.

When my Kink Empire was stolen in 2002, I was able to build 90% of a replacement bike out of spare parts from the garage of old riding buddy Dave Brown. That makes this Primo Viking seatpost clamp the oldest part on the bike. Years later I sawzalled it in half.

Front tire: Fit FAF.

Rear Tire: Odyssey Plyte Path.

Rear Wheel: Poverty 48H 10T cassette laced to Alex Supra E-lite.

Front Wheel: Crupi high-flange 3/8 36H laced to no-name single wall. It's a race wheel, so I guess pegs are out of the question. I'm fine with that.

28 lbs. The seat is ever-so-slightly lower than it was previously, and the bars have been pushed forward in line with the fork, and neither is changing. My only plans are to grind down the axles and possibly trim the seat post.

See also: video footage of the new bike, posted last week (via Caleb's blog).

Thank you, Caleb. Thank you, Ben. Thank you.

Foldies.

These dorky little bikes are unbelievably fun and even somewhat practical.
When Jaime (my wife), in search of a simple bike with upright riding position, purchased this black folder a few years ago, I became immediately obsessed with it. The tall handlebars, high center of gravity (almost directly over the rear axle), twenty inch wheels, and narrow wheelbase create a geometry that is addictively nimble and comically twitchy. Carving and swerving produce wonderfully pronounced g-force sensations; because you're sitting straight up, the full force is transmitted squarely through the seat, not the leg or arm muscles.

It is bliss.



Minimal: just a front brake cable and coaster brake.
Fenders, rack, kick stand.

But scarcely a week had passed before Jaime wisely forbade me from riding her bike. (She caught me practicing front brake endos in her mother's driveway.) I would have to get my own.

The red bike was cherrypicked from the cluttered yard of a rural junk sculptor, who was delighted to get twenty bucks for it. The handling is even more squirrelly and thrilling than Jaime's bike, for one major reason: sixteen-inch wheels.


The fundamental circus bear ridiculousness is further enhanced by the bike's generally rickety condition; the complicated folding mechanism, with its countless pivots and connections, is incredibly creaky. You can clearly feel the frame flexing beneath you as you pedal. On two occasions, I've accidentally folded the bike in half while riding.



(Note the black bike's single, sturdy hinge.)
The final reason the red bike is so great is its utterly practical three-speed hub. (Jaime's bike has a one-speed coaster brake.) After a little research, I got the shifting dialed in, and the thing climbs mountains like a ski-lift.
...

Post-Script: A Little Story:

My teenage brother-in-law Trey and I have been systematically exploring Portland's nether regions late at night. The foldies are so easy that we basically just pick an interesting spot on the map and ride.
Trey on the left.

One recent evening, we were exploring the sprawling, paved, industrial peninsula on the Willamette River's East bank called Swan Island, hoping for a closer view of the massive cargo cranes looming in the distance. At the dead end of a winding road, we came upon a bewildering construction site. I stood on a bike rack and propped my camera on the fence, trying for a stable shot down the gaping maw of a strange, alien war vessel.


As I hopped down, security approached. "Taking pictures of anything in particular?" he asked.

"Just trying to get a decent shot of that crazy ship," I answered.

"That's a navy ship," he responded. "You definitely can't be photographing that. I'm supposed to take your camera from you now..."

But he was overpowered by our wholesome, innocent faces. "Aww, I guess it's alright," he said. "Have a good night."

We pedaled away, glowing with victory and a sudden ravenous hunger. Hit up the Voodoo Doughnut maple-bacons on our way home.
Immediately googled "FSF 1" and read all about it. The thing is awesome.

I feel pretty comfortable posting these pictures up, since it's not, in fact, classified...

bike check: one, two. one, two.

I know these photos were taken in 2006 or 2007, because that's our old Chicago apartment building. But I can't be surer than that, because 2006 is the last time I bought a bike part. This is exactly the bike I'm riding today, except the rusted spots have continued to bloom.




Frame: Metal Kizz. Apparently this was Jeremy Davis's personal rig for a short time. I paid eighty bucks for it in 2002 (I think), after my Kink Empire was stolen. Most of this bike is the same charity parts, actually. There are temper tantrum hammer dents in the down tube, presumably inflicted during a difficult bottom bracket installation. I may cut the mounts off.

The forks came off a Hoffman Dirty130 complete. Paid twelve bucks. I don't tend to bend forks.

Castillo Bars. I fell in love with low, narrow bars at age sixteen and haven't run two-piecers since the stock bars on my Mongoose Decade. More on the four-piece fascination here.



S&M Redneck. This was originally part of a Holmes custom complete, built in the bike shop where I worked in 1996. The kid never liked the way the bike handled, and he soon quit riding altogether. The stem design is so old that it's not even gyro compatible. Very pointy corners. Blue face plate is from the quill Redneck that I once ran on my 1" Standard Shorty. I'm planning to switch to an Odyssey Elementary at some point.

Profile SS Cranks (bent).

Pedals: Odyssey JC's. I like these a lot.

Chainring: TreeBikeCo 36t. Still straight, even after shearing off the bashguard.

Seat/post/clamp: Mangled GT plastic with the nose cut off. This was the original seat on my Shorty, I think. Unearthed it in a tool box a few years ago. Primo Rod post and Primo Viking two-bolt clamp, cut in half. These parts are the weakest link in my setup, and I hate them. I'm planning to switch to some kind of Pivotal.

gSport Vandal hubs. I never cared the name gSport or Vandal, but I've been passively obsessed with G's products for some time. These hubs have double-thick flanges to resist damage from grinds. A sensible design choice, but I hardly even grind any more. 48 spoke.

Peg: I threw away all my rusty metal pegs a few years ago, in anticipation of Plegs. But I got impatient with Odyssey R&D, and one day when I was in the mood for hang 5's, I dug this ThickBikes plastic peg out of a tool box and installed it. It's been there ever since. When I originally bought these, the shop only had one pair for sale. If they'd had two pairs, I would've taken both. But I never could stand the asymmetric look of two white pegs, so these didn't get used much beyond the first week. If you want to grind aluminum rails, they do work really well. I think I paid $45 for the pair. Crazy. (This photo taken today.)


Tires: Ruben up front (love it), Odyssey Path in back. The Path is comically bald at this point, but I just keep duct taping the inside whenever I find a new thin spot. The technique is so effective that I wish I'd never started.

Rear rim: Sun Big City. I can't believe the durability of this rim, and it has completely eliminated pinch flats. It was originally black but is oxidizing towards a shade of copper. I kinda like it.

Front rim: Hoffman Highroller, from the first batch of Taiwanese Gack wheels, circa 1996. Still somewhat round. I'm not entirely comfortable with the ugliness of the flaking chrome. Whenever a new flake starts to go, it makes a whizzing sound in the wind.

...

On a related note, I recently acquired a good condition Standard Trailboss frame in exchange for a beat-up old Holmes--actually, the very same Holmes the Redneck came from, mentioned above--and I'm contemplating what to do with it. I don't know if I want to switch all these rusty old parts over or just build up a second bike with new modern stuff. I wouldn't mind sacrificing ten pounds of excess metal, and I don't have any kind of artistic or political commitment to old technology, really. But the Kizz just keeps on running, and the accumulated memories just keep growing. I guess that's called nostalgia.

...

Recent, related, excellent items you've probably already seen:

Taj recalls all his bikes
and
Russ recalls all his STA's.