1980 - Of Bicycles, Bits and Dreams

For the first riding season since 1980, my custom Assenmacher is not ready to ride.  After 44 seasons and just over 50,000 miles, in late 2023, the 20 year-old combination of derailleurs, freewheels and bar end shifters that made up the drive train were all in need of replacement, and it was no longer fun to ride in it’s current state. I took it down to a bare frame, now hanging in my garage.  It still needs a good clean up, but I don’t yet have plan for how it returns to rideable.  

It has been an incredible bike.  While the coast-to-coast ride I had envisioned when planing and purchasing my dream touring bike never materialized, it did dozens of shorter trips and overnights.  At times it was stripped of fenders racks and was my only fast bike.  I have ridden at almost every event distance, up to a double-century on Seattle to Portland.  It even became my long commuter for a few years, fenders and racks perfect for that, when I had indoor parking. Once I had a regular sport bike, whenever I wanted to ride with my various SLR and later digital cameras, the Assenmacher, with an Eclipse handlebar bag, was was my goto bike for rides looking for the next Kodak moment.

Let's go find a sunset!

I ordered the frame during the summer of 1979, talking directly to Matt Assenmacher at his first shop in Swartz Creek, Michigan.  I first heard about Matt in 1975 on the DALMAC overnight in Mt. Pleasant where he was working out of a bike shop.  His frames had already begun popping on rides around Michigan. With their classic British paint schemes and bold white lettering on the down tube, they were easy to spot.  When I moved to Lansing in the fall of 1978, his frames were very popular there, and my new circle of riding friends soon included a handful of Assenmacher bikes.  

By then I was going on 5 seasons on my current touring road frame, and I was getting the itch for a true touring bike.  The idea of a custom bike was very appealing, especially for my future touring plans, up to and including crossing the U.S.  One of the draws of a custom built touring bikes was the option of adding custom braze-ons or “bits”.  On most of the production bike frames of the mid-70’s,  almost every thing that that went on a bike frame: the shift levers, cable stops, housing guides, and water bottles, were mounted using wrap-around clamps.  And no matter how well the clamp was made, or even if they were coated with rubber or plastic, the assortment of clamps were distracting to look at and eventually damaged the bike’s finish.

So along with a frame geometry intended for touring, you ordered a bike with all the bits you thought you needed.  My Assenmacher started out with 3 sets of bottle cages on the down tube, top tube brake housing guides, and cable stops and guides for the front and rear derailleur cables.  I also added rack mounts on the seat stays, and double eyelets on the front and rear for fenders and racks.  So that was 20 “bits” brazed on to the frame, when I took delivery in January of 1980.  I had the frame repainted 10 years later, and made few more changes based on what I had learned.  I switched from side-pulls to cantilever brakes, and the new (late 80`s) low rider front racks.  That added 7 more bits.   And that is the bike I rode for the next 33 years.

With regard to the drive train, it was originally built with a Sun Tour 6-speed rear freewheel, and triple TA crankset.  It was an arrangement called “half step and granny” with two the largest front chainrings just 6 teeth different, and dropping down to a 28 tooth inside ring, “the Granny”.  The freewheeling was 14 to 28.  A few years later, Sun Tour added a 7th cog, and largest (lowest gear) a 34.  But without the frame being updated to allow wider, modern hubs, 7 was the most cogs that would fit.  And for the last 20 years, that only worked with a 8-speed shifter that had one unused click.  That was the arrangement I assembled in the early 2000’s, for use on my Assenmacher and our 1985 Santana tandem.

As fate would have it, the summer I planned the purchase of my dream touring bike, I met a girl.  That girl became my wife, and after that, almost all of our touring was on a tandem.  Linda and I had over 6,000 touring miles on our tandems during the `80’s, on trips throughout the midwest, Southern California, New England and the Canadian Rockies.  As our two sons came along, tandems ruled the day for our riding with them.  The Assenmacher was ridden during the week and a few weekend tours, but anything epic was on the tandem.  

My last true tour on the Assenmacher was in 2014, riding from Columbia, Missouri to Covington, Indiana over 6 days, with the first 100 miles on the Katy Trail.  While the Assenmacher was still great on the road, I knew that time was catching up with it. Its mid-70’s roots could not support more modern drivetrains.  And while a sweet ride on pavement, the 700x28 based wheels weren’t suitable for any-surface, loaded touring, a point driven home by two flats in 10 miles on a rutted section of the crushed limestone Katy; and a few days later when had to choose a busy state highway over a more direct route with 8 miles of gravel.

Crossing into Indiana, 2014

By coincidence, Trek introduced their 920 Adventure touring bike that same summer, (I even read one of the first reviews on that trip on the Katy).  With our boys now grown, and Linda’s interest more in weekend B&B rides rather than epic tandem tours, I was starting to have some time again for single bike touring.  Since 2017, I’ve had a 920, now with over 1,500 miles of touring trips and thousand more of commuting and round town, and even as my camera bike.

Thought I didn’t realize it at the time, my last ride (for now?) on the Assenmacher was when a high school friend and I connected for a ride from my home.  He was on a current carbon frame, while I kept pace on the steel frame of another era.  We rolled back the years since we had last run cross country together to the buzz of Conti’s on pavement. And as always the Assenmacher was just an extension of me, following my lead without a thought.  It was a good ride to end on.

Every time I talk about a new bike, Linda reminds me of a letter I wrote early in our relationship stating the Assenmacher was “the last bike I ever needed.”  (I am sure I would have qualified that with “last hand-built, Columbus tubed, custom touring bike”!)   Obviously, it wasn’t the last bike, but through all the bikes I’ve owned and ridden since, it was the one constant.  Though my first dream bike won’t make the trip I imagined at the time, the hours and miles on that bike are an irreplaceable part of my ride so far.

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2023 - Adventures in Wheel Life

 RAIN 2023 killed my Domane’s rear wheel.  

To be precise, it was the 70 or so miles of riding in the rain on RAIN that contributed to its final demise.  That and the 20,000 or so miles over 10 years I have owned my Trek Domane 2.3.

The wheel finished RAIN without incident, and it was not a catastrophic or dramatic failure. Upon arriving home, I cleaned up the accumulated road grime, lubed the chain and it appeared ready to go.   A few days later I drove to my weekly club ride, unloaded my bike and rode over from the parking lot to the group starting area, and that is when I heard the noise.  The sound that was a cross between a tin popcorn popper and running clothes dryer filled with pocket full of quarters. 

I decided I had better do a quick warm up loop to figure what was going on, and the noise only got worse.  Any hard pressure on the pedals, and the rear hub amped up the complaining.   I started out with my usual group, but the noise seemed to get even worse as I accelerated out into the road, and then tried to match pace with the group.  After just a mile, I dropped off the back and took stock.   It was not something I could adjust away, but I was able to ride with an easy pace, so opted to finish a solo ride before driving home.  The noise was tolerable as long as kept my pedal pressure and pace down. (Not a bad idea for the week after RAIN, in any case.)

Back at home, I put the bike in my repair stand and removed the rear wheel.  The cassette had over an 1/8” of movement side to side.  As best I can determine, the rain on RAIN had washed out all the lube, and most likely one of the free-hubs internal bearing races had failed or was permanently worn.  So I began to weigh my options for getting back to a quiet bike.

This wheel was already on a short count before RAIN, as I had found cracks forming around a couple of the eyelets in the rim.  The rim was not deformed, but it was only a matter of time. So now had a wheel with a bad rim and a bad freehub.  When you figure the cost of the rim, freehub, the spokes to rebuild (and time to find the parts and rebuild the wheel), it was looking like a couple of hundred dollars and a month of downtime. This was further complicated by my not having a spare rear wheel for the Domane. 

My rack for spare tires, wheels & etc.

It wasn’t always that way.  By the time I had my second road bike, and for the next 30+ years of riding that followed, I had multiple sets of wheels that I shared and moved between bikes.  I had narrow rims for sport riding, a set of touring rims with wider tires, and a few early cassette hubs (pre-10 speed).  These all easily interchanged between the 3-4 bikes the bikes I acquired during the late 70’s and early 80’s, and hung onto until just a few years ago.  Many of those were also Freewheel rather than cassette hubs as well; technology that was rapidly evolved away from starting in the early 90’s.  

And also during those first few years (decades, to be precise) of riding, wheels were readily interchangeable between my bikes.  So up until about the early 2000’s, I went through a half dozen different bikes using the same 4-5 pairs of wheels.

Swapping wheels meant a set of wheels was never on a bike that long, and if there was a problem, a wheel swap just took a few minutes. But this wasn’t the case for my Domane.  That rear wheel only came off for flats and new tires.  Riding quality tires, that meant the rear wheel might not come off for full season or longer, since I was easily getting 4,000 miles or more out a pair of Continentals.  (Yes, I should have been doing a better job or routine maintenance, but that is another story.)

And my newer bikes make when swaps even more unlikely.  Between my Trek 920 (2017) and my newest gravel bike, I have two different thru axle standards from Trek/Bontrager and Shimano.  Don’t get me wrong, I love thru axle tech (and disc brakes, offset rims and other improvements), but it just means that unless you have a pro team support budget, you aren’t likely to have an extra pair of wheels for multiple bikes.

Maybe 5,000 more miles, or maybe not.

To put the Domane back on the road quickly, I found a set of Shimano stock wheels, complete with a new free hub.  With the rapid adoption of disc brakes, finding a set of rim brake compatible, standard quick release wheels in stock actually took some shopping around  .  And though I wouldn’t have minded building my own, the factory built wheels, with a mid-line Shimano hub, was less expensive than hand building a rear wheel only.  The original rear wheel is probably headed for the recycle bin, and the front will just be on garage wheel rack for whatever.

The new wheels, with a fresh set of tires, dropped right in, needing just a few tweaks to the brakes for the slightly wider rims.  The spoke tension was spot on, and there were no pings of seating spokes on the first ride. So after just a couple of weekends of downtime,  I was back on road, hearing only the metal-on-metal whisper of the chain and the pleasing buzz of Conti’s on pavement, knowing my Domane was ready for another season, or 10.

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2023- 100 Miles and 1,700 Smiles

Earlier this month, I completed another Hilly Hundred Weekend. And in the week afterward, I posted almost 500 photos I took of participants during registration and on the ride.  This was done as a volunteer for the Hilly, and the host club, the Central Indiana Bicycling Association.  But most of all, it was for the simple joy it.

Packet Pickup is a popular Photo Op!

As long as I have been riding, photography has been a part of it.  When I started riding, I had a Kodak Instamatic stuffed in pocket, handlebar or seat bag.  The summer before my first multi-day tour, I purchased a new bike and a new 35mm SLR camera.  From that trip on, a handlebar bag with a camera was on my bike for almost any ride that was not for speed or a workout. I gave up film for digital camera's in the early 2000's.  And now that I ride with an iPhone, I have a camera on every ride, and if something comes up that is "Kodak Moment" (photo worthy) it may even interrupt a workout ride.

Food Stop Donut Smiles!

When I rode my first Hilly Hundred in 1981, naturally, my Canon AE-1 came along.  I got a laugh from a couple of friends on a tandem who wanted for a picture at the top of one of the crazy steep hills, and I preceded to sprint up the hill to dismount and snap a couple of shots of them climbing.  A few weeks later I had prints made from the slide and sent to them in Alabama.  I probably still have those slides, among a few thousand others I plan to scan someday.  And they are sure to include pictures from a half dozen other Hilly’s I rode in the `80’s.

During that same period, one of the unique offerings of the Hilly was the Saturday night showing of a slide show from that days ride.  The show was presented in the host schools auditorium, on 3 screens, and ran about 7-10 minutes.  The slide show was a big part of the evenings entertainment, with hundreds of riders filling the auditorium, hoping to catch themselves on the big screens.

In the pre-digital age, the show required 6 slide projectors, each loaded with 120 35mm slides.  There was a special control box connected to the projectors for advancing the slides and alternating the image displayed by the paired projectors.  To be sure you had the over 700 usable slides, a handful of volunteers photographer went out to shoot 30 to 40 rolls of 36-exposure rolls of slide film.  The film that was used could be processed in Bloomington in about an hour.  Then the finished slides had to be sorted and loaded into the round carousels for each projector, and taken back to the auditorium for the first show at 6:30pm.

It's called the Hilly for a reason!

In 1988, I volunteered to be a photographer for the show, and I would be taking pictures along the Hilly route.  I was given 7 rolls of film (252 slides), and instruction to be back to the ride start by 1 pm.  The time limit meant I would be in my car and not riding.  What a day that was! Shooting that much film that fast was a challenge. Back before digital, you had days of waiting for pictures, and you had to pay for developing the roll.  So you were normally taking your time carefully staging your shots and making sure you used the right camera settings.  On my trips I felt good to use a roll of film a day, unless I was at a special location.  

Hitting the road at 9 AM, I was driving along the route and pulling over when I found a good spot, and taking a dozen or so pictures before moving along.  By about 11:30 I had only shot 4 rolls!  About that time I encountered a rider needing a sag due to a broken chain; I decided to load his bike on my car, and had him drive along the route stopping at different spots for me to jump out, or sometime shooting while sitting on an open car window. With his help, I managed to finish the last 3 rolls and get back with 15 minutes to spare.  I am not sure how many of my slides made the final cut, but it was fun to be a part of the effort.

Due to technical issues and costs, the slide show was dropped a few years later.  Fast forward to 2006, and working with some friends and the Hilly organizers, we were able to bring back a digital based version of the show, which ran for another 10 years.  But some other changes came along that changed everything.

With the advent of the smart phone, now almost everyone rides with a camera.  When everybody has a selfie, the interest in the slide show began to wane. And with the advent of social media, pictures were visible almost immediately and to anyone, anywhere. Interest in the slide show, and the post ride entertainment declined as well; I believe the last slide show was 2018.

The new Start/Finish arch was a big hit!

But with the end of one tradition, new ones began.  Along with the digital slide show, Hilly volunteers, including myself (along with photography, I have volunteered for marketing and registration related activities), began posting photos on Facebook and other photo sharing during the ride. For the 50th Hilly, we took pictures of riders holding a sign board showing the year of their first Hilly.  The following year, we added a backdrop banner and caption signs, for both riders preparing to ride and at the end of the ride.  For 2023, a new finish line arch was added, which allowed it be positioned over the start/finish for riding through.  The full site for all 2023 Hilly Hundred Weekend photos is at this link.

Just one of the smiles from the 50th (2017) Hilly!

And while selfies on the Hilly are still a thing, more often than not, after I take a picture a rider or a group, I usually get handed a phone (or 3!) to take another picture for them. And I also take lots of pictures of riders climbing or just riding by along the route, something most people can’t or don’t try while climbing a 7% grade.

I can’t say I meet every Hilly Hundred rider, yet each photo is a unique opportunity to share a few moments with another bicycle enthusiast.   And it’s not every day you get 500 chances to do that. Combined with the scenery and challenges of riding the Hilly, it makes for a very rewarding weekend of memories, even after my 25(?) Hilly's over the past 42 years.

The guy behind the lens!

(The Hilly Hundred Weekend isn't the only event I have photos from.  You can find other events on my Smug Site -  https://jayhardcastle.smugmug.com/Events)

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2021 - DALMAC This Time

I was originally signed up for the 50th DALMAC in January of 2020, and in fact, I almost didn’t make it in.  There was a lot of buzz for the 50th, and registration sold out in 48 hours of opening; it was good to have a friend who could help out, since even he was surprised by the response.

And then came COVID, and all the insanity that followed.  By early April it was apparent two weeks were not going to flatten the curve, and DALMAC 2020 had canceled by the first week of June, along with the rest of my calendar of events for the year.  What was supposed to be my 3-year gap from 2017 became 4 years, and the 50th DALMAC turned out to be 50 years after the first, rather than the 50th Anniversary.  And that happened a lot, with events skipping 1 and sometimes 2 years. (I did manage a make-up ride, and complete a bucket list item, with a 5-day self-supported tour from my home in Indiana to my parent’s farm in south east Michigan.)

My 2020 registration rolled over, and thankfully, with a few restrictions, by the spring of 2021, DALMAC was on.  It could still be canceled; talking to the event director Steve Leiby, (a good friend and cycling companion), only one school canceling overnight access would have been enough to collapse the entire event.  Thankfully, that did not occur.  The full event lost some riders to cancelations for a variety of reason, including COVID, but not above normal.

5 days, 5 kits, ready to pack,

This year I would be riding my Trek 920, having decided that rather than riding a light sport bike, I would be in full touring (with camera) mode.  The only change for the trip would be downsizing the tires from 700x42 Continental TourRides, my regular touring tire, 700x35 versions of the same tire.  That is the smallest size recommended for the Bontrager rims on the 920.  I changed the tires out in mid-August, and after a couple of rides over 30 miles, and they seemed fine.  I would also have my Eclipse handlebar bag (circa 1985) for my Nikon D5600, and an Arkel Tailrider on the rear rack.  I also had small Arkel Pannier packed, just in case.  

The focus of this DALMAC, my seventh, was riding with my friends Steve and Maria Leiby.  Originally, in 2020, 3 of Maria’s siblings would have been riding, but their plans changed when it was canceled. Maria, who recently turned 70, would be riding DALMAC after almost a decade break.  Steve and I had ridden 3 prior DALMACs since 2008. This ride was also a reprise of sorts of a ride 41 years before.

I had met Steve and Maria through bicycling, just after moving to Lansing in the fall of 1978. The three of us were all on DALMAC ‘79, though Steve was the volunteer event director and not actually riding.   Maria and I ended up riding together much of the time, and the three of us dined together. That DALMAC really anchored our friendship, which would soon include my wife (to be) Linda, who I also met on a TCBA club ride that same summer.  For me, 1979 was an amazing year of riding and life changing events.  And while we all kept in touch through the years that followed, it was hard to believe would be 41 years between the three of starting out the on the road to Mackinac again.

Time for your wrist band!

While the original `70’s DALMACs I rode were only 4 days, I really enjoy the full vacation feel of the current five days on the west route.  I had ridden the 5-West 3 times since 2008, and each had included a bridge crossing, and some miles north of St. Ignace in Michigan’s upper peninsula.  However, the bicycle bridge crossing were halted by the Mackinac Bridge Authority after 2017, so DALMAC now concludes in Mackinac City, and this meant I stayed overnight in 3 new towns on the slightly modified route.

So after 18 months, on the first day of September, I was finally driving north to Lansing with a bike, 5 days of gear, and a tent.  From lessons learned that last time, I was packed a little different.  Rather than rely on my single oversize the roller duffle for everything, I had second duffle bag for camping gear: Tent, Sleeping bag and pad.  The the under packed roller duffle was more manageable, and my likely to be damp tent would not be mixed in with with my clothing.  This also meant my gear duffle would be packed and sealed while I finished up my camping gear.

I had few other things updated since my last trip, including a better headlamp, a new camp pillow, and a Luci lantern for inside the tent.  My daily kits and after ride gear were kept organized in the mesh bag and ultralight packing cubes I had started using for touring, and those we packed inside heavy duty jumbo Zip lock storage bags.

I arrived mid-afternoon at Steve & Maria’s house on the south side of Lansing, and spent some time catching up with them before heading over to the MSU campus to work the first evening of registration with them.  My job this year was pulling merchandise orders for riders checking in, and taking a few pictures as time allowed.  

While the usual pre-ride excitement was there, the requirement for mask in the building changed the air.  You assumed everyone was smiling, but it just felt different, the mask giving everyone an anonymous look and hiding their unique identity. It was still nice to connect with friends and acquaintances on both sides of the table, riders from across the Midwest, and volunteers who knew me through TCBA. Another absence noticed by many was that of Dick Allen, the originator or DALMAC.

Once registration closed, we headed back to the house for the night  As I double checked my packing, I was a little more careful this year to not leave half my after-ride clothes in their guest bedroom as I had in 2017, though I still managed to leave a lens cap behind.  Then it was down for the night, ready for an early alarm. 

Ready for DALMAC, with my good friend Speedy!

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2021 - Thank You Dick Allen

Sometime during the summer of 1973, on a visit to my favorite bike shop, I picked a flyer for a bike ride.  It described a four-day ride from Lansing to Mackinac City, Michigan over Labor Day weekend.  The ride was called Dick Allen Lansing to Mackinac, or simply DALMAC.  It explained there would be maps, a century ride, meals, overnight campsites, baggage trucks, a ride across the Mackinac Bridge, and a bus ride back to Lansing.  The total cost would be something like $200, almost twice what I had paid for my new bike in January of that same year. That ride brochure went on my bulletin board at home.  I didn’t know how I would manage the dollars and logistics, but I decided I was going to do that ride the next year.

Dick Allen at the Michigan Capitol,
DALMAC 74

DALMAC was a complete list of things I had never done.  I had never ridden that many miles in that many days in row. I had never traveled overnight from home with anyone but family.  I had never been camping or slept in a tent.  I had never been north of Lansing, and most of my knowledge of “up north” was from my Michigan history in school or TV, and what I heard from friends. But I don’t ever recall even thinking about those “nevers” as I went about the next 12 months.  It was just all a leap of faith and youthful optimism.

That was my first summer for real cycling.  With Christmas money I had purchased my first drop-bar and derailleur “speed bike” after 3 summers on a 26” wheeled “English” 3-speed.  My longest ride to that point was an 80-mile charity ride, and though my bike was new, I was already planning for my next bike, one with alloy wheels and quick release hubs.  I was working a hodge-podge of jobs, including a paper route, sweeping a small drapery shop on Saturday mornings, mowing lawns and a few weeks of putting up hay on a local farm.  By mid-summer I was washing dishes at a local bar  & grill 3 nights a week, a job that might last through the winter.  

But somehow, it all came together.  Over my junior year of high school, I earned enough money for the new bike, and for DALMAC '74, and was signed up before school was out.  I would share a tent with a high school friend also on DALMAC, but I did buy my first sleeping bag.  I started to acquire cycling clothing, as I quickly learned that jeans or gym shorts weren’t very good for rides of 20 miles or more, along with my first cycling shoes and jerseys.  I bought a set of panniers for my baggage, since you were supposed to be able to carry your gear on your bike.  I was very popular at the bike shop in Jackson, and I never seemed to have a lot of savings!

Finally in late August, my bike and gear were loaded in the family pickup, and my Mom was up with me at 5 in the morning to drive me the 60 miles to the start in East Lansing.  I unloaded my bike, hugged my Mom good-bye, with a promise to call home every night, and checked in at registration.  For the first time, I carried my tagged bags to the ramp of a U-Haul van, and then fell in with the hundreds of riders for the first leg, the ride from East Landing to the steps of the Michigan Capitol building.   From the start, my 35mm camera (I forgot mention I saved up for that too!) was out and I started taking color slides.  As we gathered at the Capitol, walking among the riders was Michigan’s Governor Milliken, in a suit and tie, talking with Dick Allen, who was wearing a polo shirt and cotton hiking shorts.  Most 17-old kids don’t expect to be standing next to their governor, but there I was.

Those next 4 days of bicycling were a blur of new experiences, as I rode north with almost 600 other riders in every type of gear imaginable:  t-shirts and cuts-off, hiking shorts, gym shorts and the few of us in black cycling shorts and real bike jerseys.  There was every type of bike: old 3-speeds, steel Schwinns, and the elite bikes with names like Holdsworth, Bob Jackson, Motobecane and Peugeot.  Regardless of the walk of life, on the road we were all just bicyclists, all riding to Mackinac, all because of a guy named Dick Allen.

Every mile of every day was new to me, each town my first time there, and I had done it all on my own power.  By the second day, I was already in tune with the touring rhythm of RIDE-EAT-SLEEP-REPEAT.  As I pedaled my way north, the changing landscape drew me in even more, until the last day of riding along Little Traverse Bay, Lake Michigan, through M-119’s Tunnel of Trees, and finally the Straights of Mackinac.  I had ridden to the Mackinac Bridge, seeing it the first time and then crossing it by bike.  We arrived in St. Ignace, and made our way to the high school for the last night of camping before our bus ride back to East Lansing, 

On that bus ride back I already knew I would be back.  I thought about all I had seen and learned, and the people I had met.  I was already planning what what I would need for the the next trip, what I had to upgrade, and how to prepare.  But there were things I didn’t know would come out following Dick Allen’s ride to Mackinac.

I didn’t now that bicycling those 4 days would become the anchor in my life through some challenging months ahead.  Rather than more destructive escapes, I would come to rely on a bike ride to get me through the day.

I didn’t know my next DALMAC, the following year, would part of an 11-day adventure of bicycle touring, and the miles of adventures that would follow that trip over the years ahead.

I didn’t know it would kick start my urge to volunteer for bike clubs and events, and the hundreds of hours I would invest in them almost every year since.

I didn’t know that I would pick Lansing as my first town when I left home, all because of it’s great bike club, the TriCounty Bicycling Association, and the lifelong friends I would make while there.  

I didn’t now I would meet my wife to be on one of those TCBA rides.  We would soon begin our own bicycle adventures, riding our tandem for thousands of miles of touring, adventures that continued with boys Tyler and Justin.  And I also shared a DALMAC with Justin when he was just 14.

I didn’t know that life, family and work would result in a 30-year gap between my DALMACs, but coming back in 2008, 2009 and 2017, I was able to say hello again to Dick Allen, and chat with him in camp or on the road, just like in the `70’s.  I can't say I was a personal friend, but everyone who rode DALMAC was a friend to Dick.

With Dick Allen at check-in DALMAC 2017

For 2021, my 7th DALMAC,  I had a great time riding with friends I had made over 40 years before, friends I had made through DALMAC and TCBA.  However, Dick Allen did not make the ride, probably the first time in 50 years.  His joyful presence and smiling face was missed by all.

I know that Dick Allen alone is not responsible for DALMAC, and know most of the people that worked with him in those early years, and the many that still make it possible today. But he is the guy that they all coalesced around.  It was not a memorial ride, he would joke many times on those latter rides.  

If there hadn’t been a DALMAC, it is possible that another event might have had the same impact on my life and my bicycling.  Maybe. But I am forever grateful  there was a Dick Allen and a DALMAC, and that I picked up that flier.  And every time I crest that first hill out of Harbor Springs on M-119, I am once again, and always will be, that same 17-year old kid riding it for the first time.

Thank you Dick Allen, and I wish you smooth roads and tailwinds.

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2021: Knitting with Stainless Steel

Yes, I know how to build and true bicycle wheels. 

I would guess most bicyclists today seldom go beyond oiling a chain and changing a tire.  Growing up in a family of boys (and 1 sister) with a Dad who was a mechanic/welder/farmer/heavy equipment operator, you learned early that you always fixed it yourself first (or at least tried to).  And while I didn’t have the aptitude for cars and trucks that my dad and  a few of my brothers had, once I I was hooked on riding bikes, I was soon hooked on working on them.  Building on all that early experience, and my years in bicycle retail,  I don’t mind taking on just about any bicycle repair.  Over the last 3 years, I have even been learning the finer points of disc brakes that are now on our 3 newest bikes.  

Ready to get started.

And every few years, the opportunity comes along to build another bike wheel.  When I started riding, hand-built wheels were in the same league as a hand-built frame, the benchmark of quality and reliability.  And while today’s machine built wheels are incredibly reliable, I still enjoy the satisfaction of lacing and finishing a wheel for one of my bikes when the need arises.

The spoked bicycle wheel is beautiful piece of engineering.  Your hub is actually hanging from the top of the wheel, while the tension on the other spokes works to keep the hub centered in the rim, and the rim true and round.  One of my favorite descriptions is that bicycle wheel is round suspension bridge!  A wheel’s spokes can be laced in a variety of patterns, depending on the intended usage, and what you decide in trade-off’s of weight, performance and reliability.  

While a radial spoke wheel has spoke going straight from hub to rim, very common on front wheels today, most wheels have a pattern that incorporate spoke crossing over and under each between the hub and rim. A 2-cross pattern goes over 1 spoke and under the second, a 3 cross goes over two and under the third and so on (and my reference to knitting).  You must also start the spokes correctly in the rim; the eyelets are offset in the rim, to match with the side of the hub, and you want be sure you don’t have spokes crossing over the valve opening, which can make inflating the tire a challenge.

Once a wheel is laced, the final tension on hand-built wheel used to be more of an art, the proper tension achieved through practice and experience; simply building more wheels and seeing how they held up.   However, when it is years between wheel sets, some of that “touch” is sure to be lost.  And has the design and materials have changed, past experience may not be as useful.  However, time gathered skills can now be aided by tension gauges and software that allow you to measure and compare the tension of each spoke.  I started using the Park Spoke tension gauge and wheel building apps a few years ago, first to repair wheels, and now to build them, and it is an amazing resource.

My first interest in wheel building came about after a challenging couple of days of riding with broken spokes.  I had purchased my second road bike in the summer of 1974, just in time for my first double century and in anticipation of my first extended tour, DALMAC. I was on DALMAC, with probably less than a 1,000 miles on the new bike, when a spoke in the rear wheel broke late in the third day.  In camp that night I found the mechanics truck, and he was able to replace the spoke and true up the wheel.  I assumed it was just a one off, and I would be fine.  (I didn’t expect to be like the tandem on DALMAC that year, that was breaking 5-6 spokes per day, but that is another story!)

I started the next day only mildly concerned.  It was a century day, and would end with biking across the Mackinac Bridge.  At 70 miles, I heard a ping, and a spoke had broken.  It was crossed under another and not causing an issue.   But then at 80 miles, another ping.  This spoke I had remove, because it was hitting the back of the freewheel.  I loosened the rear brake a bit, and continued, trying to ride “softly”.  By the time I reached the pullout for the bridge, 6  (out of 36) spokes were gone, the rear brakes was disconnected, and the tire was barely clearing the frame.   And that is how I crossed the Mackinac Bridge the first time, gingerly riding “light” and hoping my rear wheel would make the remaining 8 miles across the bridge and to St. Ignace High School.

After returning home, I made the trip to the bike shop, and they rebuilt the wheel for me.  This was my first lesson in the art of wheel building.  The spokes used by the manufacturer were smaller than hub was designed for, and the spoke heads were failing at the hub flange.  The shop re-built wheel with a the correct diameter, or gauge, spoke for the hub, and the wheel worked for many years after.   And from the point forward, I worked to learn everything I could about repairing and building wheels.

After lacing comes the finishing.

I started with adding spoke wrenches, I then picked up a copy of Robert Wright’s Building Bicycle Wheels.  As part of a bike upgrade, I bought a set of Phil Wood hubs, then I ordered rims, and the correct length and gauge spokes, and over a week of winter nights, I laced my first set of bicycle wheels while Matt Assenmacher was building my custom touring bike.  A more experienced friend helped me with the final truing, and then the were road ready. I used that the first set of wheels for almost 10 years, before rebuilding them again with a more modern rim.   That set is still on the Assenmacher, probably 10,000 miles later.  

I started the working in bike shops a year later, and was building wheels more frequently, probably 5-6 wheels a year, when a special request would come in, and if the regular wheel builder wasn’t available.  The most challenging wheels I did build were the 5-cross, 48 spoke tandem wheels of the 80’s.  

Along way I picked up the intricacies of selecting the spoke gauge and cross patterns, the lacing order and tricks of when to use lube or Loctite on eyelets and spokes.   The final step in truing was stressing the wheel; wearing a pair of leather work gloves, you worked around the wheel, grasping each the parallel pairs and squeezing so that and twists in spoke is relieved.  When it is done right, the wheel is silent on the first ride, as every spoke is seated and ready to share the load.

My latest wheel, built this past winter, was for the rear wheel my Trek 920.  An errant strap during an after dark commute had resulted in broken a spoke I had repaired a couple of years ago, so that wheel was no longer factory true.  And while cleaning my 920 last fall, I found another broken spoke, as I prepared to replace that spoke I found a crack in the rim at the eyelet of the bad spoke.  The wheel then had over 8,500 miles, and over half those miles had been with my regular work commute load (laptop, lunch and clothes) along with 10 days of self-supported camp touring, so all things considered, including that errant strap, it was not bad run for a rear wheel.  Thankfully, despite the COVID bike and components shortages, the replacement rim was readily available from Trek.  After few weeks to gather the rim and and spokes, the new wheel went together in a couple of nights, first lacing the original hub into the new rim, and then truing it into a finished wheel. The new spokes are stainless steel rather than black spokes, and I already have ridden it for couple of hundred miles since it was installed.

Two of my bike now roll on wheels I have built, and the same tools are used to keep my other wheels round and true.  So while the tools have changed, the satisfaction of the results remain.   While a dozen different technologies are responsible for the component parts, the final product is still handcrafted.

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2020: A 5,000 Mile Miscalculation

In September of 2019, I decided it was time to celebrate rolling over 200,000 logged road bicycle miles. That was when my latest Excel summary spreadsheet had me rolling over 199,999.   Or so I thought.  It turns out I was off, by about 5,000 miles, through a simple error in data entry, the result of combining 4 decades of records scattered across 3 different systems.

Finishing ride in September 2019

Scattered in some boxes, I have all of my early mileage logs.  They are a mix of simple ledger books, Year-on-a-page logs sheets from the League of America Wheelman (now LAB) magazine, and free monthly logs from Bicycling.  All told, I have reasonable approximations of my early riding, especially considering that the first 10 years relied on mechanical peg cyclometers and simple dead reckoning for most of that portion of my mileage history. It wasn’t until 1982 that I had my first electronic speedometer/ odometer from Cateye.  And has a side note,  ever since that first one, in our household, any, bike “computer” has been a Cateye, regardless of brand or capability.  

The first bike computers were clunking affairs, relying on AA batteries, and offering only speed, trip and total miles.  You could actually buy a little external battery pack with alligator clips to keep your milage while you changed the batteries.  Thoughout the `80’s they decreased in size and increased in sophistication, and began their gradual transition to todays offerings with GPS Navigation and tracking, heart rate and power output.

About the same time I started using electronics on our bikes, in 1983 we purchased our first home computer, a CPM based KayPro II. It included a simple spreadsheet program called PerfectCalc.  I used it to begin collecting all those early mileage logs into annual cumulative summaries, with categories for the 4 types of bikes I was riding;  Touring, Sport, Tandem and Mountain.   Those early spreadsheets, and daily records, were my first electronic record keeping, through the late `80s. 

By 1989, I had begun working on a Mac at home, and was also doing relationship data base development professionally, also on the Mac.  So using those developer tools, I put together a bicycle data base that would track my daily miles by bike and ride, and created summaries for annual reports.  I kept adding features; types of rides, the state where the ride occurred, time and distance.  I basically keep that database running through about 2016, which coincidentally, was when I started using RidewithGPS.com.   In 2016 that aging data base database finally hit a platform limit, and unless I spend about $500 for a new license, or until I take the time to rebuild it in a shareware SQL, I was back to Excel.  And that brings back to my 200,000 mile year.

Also along the way, I had to start backing trainer miles out of the road total.  That meant backing about 22,000 miles out of the total.  There is a screen shot of hitting 200,000 TOTAL miles in may of 2015, but that is sort of sidebar.

My annual mileage summary, circa 2015,
with indoor trainer miles.

My bicycle database had an annual summary, and that included a 200,000 ROAD mile forecast.  Back in 2015, I knew it was going to happen sometime in 2018 or 2019, based on my average annual daily miles (yes, I had that calculated too!).  But I sort of lost track of that forecast with the database.  I then dowloaded some data and began tracking annual miles in Excel.  Based on that work, I settled on September 2019 as the month I rolled over 199,999 road miles.  And I didn’t think much about it until last month of this year.

This year I rolled over 5,200 miles in mid-October, and I wanted to look back at my string of 5000+ years.  So I pulled up the spreadsheet with the summary from the summer of 2019, and started adding things up, and I finally saw that when I built that sheet, I had missed a column entry and 2005 was recorded as 468 miles.  I did a bit of double take, and looked back through a couple of other summary files, and corrected the error (5251 miles), and looked again at the total.   When it was all said and done, I had probably logged 200,000 road miles about the time of the 2018 Hilly Hundred.  It would have been nice to have celebrated it there, but my September 2019 celebration was fun too.  

For now, I have everything agreeing, and I have winter project to rebuild the database, and get a few more totals fixed, like the the total number of rides logged, (almost 13,000) and my average ride (around 16, a lot of 10 mile commutes).  And of course, the milage on each of my bikes.  And then I have my next distance goal to celebrate, in about 5-6 years, when (and thanks to my brother Jeff for the reference), I will complete my first “lunar”.

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