The horror, the horror

They said (the omniscient "they") that you have to be careful with your paint job. They turned out to be right. I was making a few adjustments last week, and after I was done, I noticed that the frame had been touching the wheelbarrow nearby. Granted, I'd been moving the frame around a bit while adjusting it, but nothing too violent. However, there was a violent result:


A giant crater in my paint job! A veritable grand canyon of exposed undercoat! Rending my garments, I fell to the floor and sprinkled WD40 on my head....

Actually, I'd halfway been expected something of the sort, so I wasn't too upset. Still, I'm going to find the best way to touch it up.

On the plus side, I've been riding "The Grey Ghost" back and forth to work for the last three weeks. I've ridden in rain, sunshine, rainy sunshine, and sunny rain.

I've gotten one flat tire already. (The second day I rode to work. Halfway there. In the rain. Walked the bicycle the rest of the way to work and called Rachel to come pick me and the bicycle up when work was done. What a willing and generous wife she is!)

It's four miles each way. It takes me about ten minutes to drive it, and about twenty minutes to ride. I love the fact that I'm getting some exercise, and also helping out the planet a teensy bit. I like realizing that I can't remember when the last time I drove my car was.

I'd like to give thanks where thanks is due:

My local bicycle shop has been generous with their time, advice, and pricing. If you're ever looking for parts, service, or a new ride, you should check out Skagit Cycle Center.

My local library has a great set of books on bicycle repair and maintenance. Those books were my lifeline. Plus, the library is brand new and beautiful! You should check out The Burlington City Library.

My Legs Feel Funny

...because I've been riding a bicycle! And let me tell you, it's quite a rush! Aside from a few turns around the block before I started working on this bicycle, it's been way too many years since I've made myself part of the most energy-efficient means of transportation known to huperoffspringity[1].

After church, I installed both derailleurs and adjusted them the best I could. After installing the shifters, to my surprise I found that the bicycle actually runs through the gears pretty smoothly. Of course, to check the shifting you have to work the pedals, and I also found that those pedals are not comfortable when your feet are clad only in socks.

The chainrings and front derailleur, before I installed the chain.

Finally it was time for the first official ride. Of course, I was too excited to take precautions, so I headed out on a fully untested bicycle without my helmet. I did remember to put shoes on.

The shakedown ride was a moment of realization for me: A bicycle is a time machine. I was instantly transported back to my childhood, flying around the neighborhoods of Bremerton with my friends.

I stopped to track down a steady ticking noise (turned out to be a sticker coming loose from the side of the rear tire... easily fixed) and realized that I'd just covered two of the routes I often use when I go running, but in about one-tenth of the time. Ah, the power!

The cranks and the shifters both need some fine adjustment. I may eventually replace the handlebar foam and the brake hoods, but THE BICYCLE LIVES, BABY!

It's been a lot of effort getting it to this point, but not one moment of it felt like work. Even when I was up to my elbows in grease, trying to hold the loose parts of the transmission together and in place with one hand while threading a cable through them with the other, I felt connected to something very fundamental. I don't mean that in a "cosmic spirit quest" sort of way. There's just something satisfying about working with my hands, and being able to see (and ride) the results of what I've done. Something tells me this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.

[1] "Huperoffspringity" is the ultimate politically correct term for us collection of homo sapiens. See, you start with mankind, but that has the word "man" in it. So then try "humanity", but same problem. So let's just replace the offending part of the word. "Man" could be replaced with "person", right? So then we've got hupersonity. Oh, but wait. That still has the word "son" in it. The more gender neutral term for son would be "offspring". So make the final substitution: Huperoffspringity. There. Everyone happy?

Almost Back In the Saddle

And speaking of saddles, I decided to buy a new one.

My philosophy all along with this bicycle was only to replace parts that actually need replacing. If it was old, beat up, rusty, dyspeptic, etc. it was staying on the bicycle as long as it could still do the job. It's been hard putting some battered old pieces back on my shiny refinished frame, but the whole point was to learn how to overhaul a bicycle, not to spend enough on replacement parts that I could have bought a new bike.

However, I decided to make an exception for the saddle. The old one is a vintage example of an artistic period known as "The Eighties":


And while I'm all in favor of the eighties, I decided that the saddle is a reflection of the rider sitting on it, both literally and figuratively. And I am vain, darn it! Vain! So I went and bought a saddle in black, with dark and light gray highlights and a tiny hint of red. It matches the frame remarkably well. Hopefully it will match my rear end to a reasonable degree also.

Today I replaced the bearings in the head tube, packed everything full of grease, and put the front fork, the handlebars, the brakes, the pedals, cranks and chainrings, the wheels and the saddle back on. Countless hundreds of words have been spilled on the subject of aligning the brakes, the saddle, and the handlebars. Turns out a couple of paragraphs would have sufficed. Either that or else I'm actually starting to get the hang of this thing.

Tomorrow, I need to attach the shifters, the front and rear derailleurs, and the chain. Then, much like Walter Mitty actually attempting street surgery with a pocketknife, I will attempt to align the derailleurs. If all goes well, it will be ready to rock and/or roll!

If I survive the test ride, I'll have pictures of the completed bicycle for you tomorrow.

Big Wheels Keep on Turnin'

Reassembly time is approaching!

But first, ten years under a house was not kind to the tires. They had clearly lived a long life, full of adventure. I stopped by my local bike shop, bought new tires and tubes, and set about learning how to change bicycle tires.

After deflating the tube, it took a bit of muscle work to get the tire off the rim, and I had to use a hammer to get the stem out, but it was only a few minutes work to get down to the bare rims.


Getting the new tires and tubes on was a bit more challenging, but I figured it out. I inflated the tubes using my basketball pump, but the recommended PSI was 100, which the basketball pump can't quite handle.

Later, Rachel and I headed out to Big Scoop, our local old-fashioned ice cream shop. On the way, we stopped by a gas station to finish inflating the tires. Imagine my surprise when the air compressor at Arco couldn't fill the tires to 100 PSI either! It seemed to top out at about 65. I guess I'll have to pick up a bicycle pump.

Comes With Everything You See Here

A couple shots of my workbench. Everything you see is either a part of the bicycle, or was used in working on it. Note the chain hanging from the lamp. Seemed like a good storage place at the time.



These are the three cans of paint I used:

I baked you a bicycle!

I was browsing some information about painting, and I found that a lot of professionals cure the paint by baking it in a heated room, usually about 200 degrees Fahrenheit for an hour or so, all depending on the exact type of paint. I figured I could try that.

I put the front fork in the oven, making sure of course to get Rachel's permission first. She's the true wizard in the kitchen, after all. I didn't want to take any chances with her ability to work her magic.

The paint released some fumes and stunk up the house a bit, but it wasn't too bad after I opened the windows and turned on the fans.

When I took the fork out after an hour, the paint did peel off at the three contact points, but only very tiny amounts. Still, I was disappointed. If I try that again, I'll have to figure out a way to suspend the fork in the oven.

Hopefully the paint on the fork will resist chipping now. I guess I'll see how it holds up compared to the frame, which was just a tad too big to fit in the oven.

Dropcloths by Goodwill

I finally had every part removed from the bicycle frame, except the axle and bearings (what is known as the bottom bracket in the bicycle world).

I sanded down all the rust spots to bare metal, and sanded the rest of the paint enough to rough it up and give the primer something to stick to.


Just about everyone (and everyone else, too) told me that preparation is the most important part of painting. I probably spent 10 to 15 hours on sanding and cleaning the frame. Warm summer evenings I'd sit a chair out on the pad in front of the garage, and sand away. The little kids that live in the house across the alley were endlessly fascinated. Every once in a while, one of the would work up the courage to come over and ask me what I was doing. I'd tell them, and they'd shyly run back across the alley when I tried to engage them in further conversation.

After all the sanding, I wanted to make sure the frame was really clean, so I cleaned it with a rag and turpentine, then with paper towels soaked in rubbing alcohol.

Finally, it was time to paint.

I set up a high-tech stand for the front fork.

This would also be known as newspapers pinned to the ground with a screwdriver.

I used a spray can primer I got at our local Do It Center. (Smaller store, locally owned... Had to say it for Hannah and Kevin.) The instructions on the can said to put coats on within one hour, or else wait 24 hours. I've read that many light coats is better than a couple heavy coats, so I put on two light coats of primer, waited a day, and put on two more. I was happy with the end result:


I wanted to start with the front fork. I figured if I messed it up big time, it would be less work to start all over than the frame. I was planning on finishing the fork completely before I touched the frame, but I was so excited with how the fork came out, I had to start the frame.

I carefully swept and vacuumed out the garage, and moved the cars out. Somehow, Rachel didn't want me painting in the same room as her Mustang.

I hung the frame from the ceiling with some twine and a coat hanger. Making sure all the fans were on, and the windows and doors open, I plunged in:

I painted the small, hard-to-reach areas first. I didn't want to mess up the whole paint job trying to finish some little spot I missed in some corner somewhere. I followed the same "many light coats" philosophy. After a couple days to for the primer to dry, I was ready for the top coat.

I went to Ace to find a topcoat. I'd been thinking in shades of gray. (Is he talking about paint, or life?) The very helpful guy at Ace showed me a lot of options. I was thrown off course when I learned of what they called "hammered finish" paint. I had to have it. So I bought some. I got it home, and loved how it looked on the front fork. So I did the frame with it also. It was spraying on the frame kinda funny, and I finally realized the nozzle was clogged. I wish I'd figured that out sooner, as I think I could have ended up with a smoother paint job overall.

After putting on a couple coats of gray, I packed up for the day. I was planning to put on a couple more coats in a day or two. However, when I got ready to do so, I noticed that the gray paint recommends waiting TEN days inbetween coats! After waiting a couple more days, I decided that patience is not my virtue, and I put the rest of the coats on anyway. After a couple more days, I finished it off with about five clear coats.

Considering it was my first attempt at painting anything more complicated that a picket fence, I was pretty happy with the results:


In the next post, I try some baking.

All We Are Is Dust In the Wind

I grabbed a few tools and started taking pieces off the frame. The wheels, the stand, the seat, the busted toe clips, and the front and rear deraiullers all came off pretty easily. The front and rear brakes, the shifters, and the cabling took a bit more work. To get the handlebars off I had to check a book out of the library, but eventually everything submitted to my will as my persistence overcame my lack of talent.

I took pictures of just about every piece as I took it off, in hopes of being able to put it all back together someday. I have 147 pictures plus a few short videos so far. The joys of digital photography and a spacious hard drive.

After getting most of the bits off that I could figure out how to remove, I was down to this:


Now I may be the only person in the world that feels this way, but I find myself slightly insecure in places like auto parts stores, weight rooms, and certain sections of Home Depot. I have this irrational yet annoyingly persistent fear that my lack of knowledge will expose me to the world as a fraud. I look at the rugged specimens of masculinity that such places employ, men who undoubtedly came out of the womb wearing a football helmet and clutching a nail gun, and I know what they're thinking: "Looks like a weenie boy. Let's wait until he opens his mouth, then we'll shamelessly mock him right out the door!" When I was a kid, it was slightly traumatic going to the hardware store even with the protective presence of my dad. The first time I went without him required some extensive loin-girding and a therapeutic trip to Goodwill afterwards. Now Goodwill is a place (much like Tiffany's for Holly Golightly) where nothing bad can ever happen to you. But I divagate...

Psychologically arming myself, I ventured out to our local bicycle shop. It turned out they were very helpful and even... nice. One of my former students was working as a mechanic there, and he gave me some insider advice that turned out to be exactly what I needed to know.

I bought two specialized tools there, for a total of $25. Compared to the money people spend on tools for auto repair or, say, scrapbooking, I was pretty happy. These tools allowed me to remove the chain and the cranks. (Cranks are the name for the arms that the pedals attach to.)

One of the cranks, with the chainrings removed. Also known as the spider.

Two places on the bicycle featured these lockrings with three notches in them. Apparently they're not very common any more, as even the bicycle shop didn't have a tool to remove them.


At the suggestion of my student who works at the shop, I tried the low-tech method of removal:

Yep, nothing like putting a screwdriver to it and banging on the end of the screwdriver with a hammer. It's going to be interesting putting them back on the same way. There were a couple similar lockrings on the headset (the tube where the handlebars and front wheel join the bicycle) and I managed to get them off in the same fashion.

The headset before disassembly

The headset with bearings exposed.

Let me say it was no small feat getting this far, and I was pretty proud of myself. This, of course, meant that it was time for a lesson in humility. In my next post: sanding, painting, and more painting, oh my!

Must I paint you a picture?

The first step was to break out the Simple Green and scrub the whole thing down. While doing this, I noticed some decent rust spots:



Of course, there was only one natural response. "I'm going to repaint this bicycle too!" I triumphantly exclaimed. Brutus, our cat, was only one present to hear this momentous announcement. He tried to hide it, but his extreme excitement showed in the "feed me now or you die" look he was giving me. Then again, he gives me that look every time he sees me. In the next post: Sandpaper is your friend.

And so it begins

Those of you that have talked to me recently know that I've been overhauling an old bicycle. In one of my frequent flashes of brilliance, I've decided to keep a blog of the experience. You may be asking yourself questions at this point. Why would Abel want to keep such a blog? Why should I read it? And how often will Abel sully this blog by writing about himself in the third person?

The answers, in no particular order:

• Because you love me, and/or think I'm so cool that even such a loose connection to me brightens your day and boosts your self esteem.
• It seemed like a good idea at the time.
• Hopefully not too often, although already once too many.

OK, here's the situation. (And if you have a song stuck in your head right now, I'll predict your year of birth accurate to within five years.) I'd been talking about wanting to get a bicycle again, just an old road bicycle to ride around town on. I had a ten-speed when I was a kid, and lately I've been missing it. One day one of my co-workers calls me into her office and gives me her road bicycle.

"Abel," she said, "this thing's been sitting under my house for ten years. I want you to have it. Be good to it, and it will always bring you home." Or something along those lines. I was a bit emotional at the prospect of my new wheels, so my memory of the moment may have spliced in some footage from a western or two.

I tossed it in the back of my Subaru (aka J.C. Supercar) and took it home. After riding it around the block a few times, I thought "It would be really fun to take this all apart, clean it up, and put it back together." This seemed like a good idea despite my complete lack of knowledge or experience in such matters. Or maybe because of it.

The bicycle as delivered from Greta

The bicycle is an early 1980's Nishiki Rivera. There's not a whole lot out there on Nishiki, but it seems like a decent bike to my untrained eyes. In the next post: I decide that if I'm going to overhaul this bicycle, I might as well do it right.