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...
You probably saw the fantastic pics of this gigantic hydroelectric reservoir posted on that Slovenian fixie blog back in June. For the record, I'm not so much annoyed by the fixed gear gnar-dog antics , as I am jealous of their amazing spot. (Though I confess that I did chuckle at the bmx bullies tearing up the comments section.)
