The $1,000 — or less — question

A friend of mine e-mailed me the other day, told me he expected to come into some spare cash and was considering buying, among other things, a road bike and accoutrements. Below is the gist of my response. Courtesies not included in the original but provided here were implied. Because I have too much time on my hands, I'll probably follow this with my $1,500 and $2,500 recommendations over the next several days.

Dear Esteemed Friend:

I love e-mails like this. A monkey would be really, really cool but a road bike will never throw shit at you and then laugh. If you got a hovercraft or time machine, however, there'd be no point buying a road bike. I'd take either one (time machine first, hovercraft second) instead of a kickass road bike.

Back to the assumption that a road bike is your first choice. Here are my choices, in order of manufacturer's recommended sale price: Giant OCR3 ($650), KHS Flite 300 ($689), Specialized Allez Triple ($710), Cannondale R400 Triple ($779.99) and Trek 1200 ($849.99). Any of these bikes will get you to your local landmark and back and feeling badass to boot. Common advantages are triple chainrings (the big cogs in front, and triples are a whole lot easier to to ride uphill when you're learning to ride a road bike uphill) and carbon forks (which take a lot of the sting out of riding over potholes and other irregularities). Common disadvantages are that you have to relearn how to shift (shift from bigger rings to smaller on the front as you're hitting the bottom of a hill and your chain is loose instead of waiting until the middle of the uphill when the chain is tight) and the seat (saddle) is a piece of shit not suitable to any ride more than 40 miles (this bears no relation to the sense of badassedness you should feel at the end of your ride).

I derived these recommendations from recollection bolstered by information garnered from www.roadbikereview.com. I knew which models I had in mind but the Web site gave me the specifics I wanted. My search was for road bikes costing between 0 and $1,000. More than half the bikes meeting those criteria had no price and are expensive as shit if you're serious about owning one.

Do purchase the bike at your favorite independent local bike shop (which will carry some but not all of the brands and models I've identified above). When the doing the deal see if you can get the bike shop to throw in some clipless pedals beside the crappo pair the bike comes with.

If they throw in the pedals, that means you'll need shoes. Clipless pedals are worthwhile because they allow you to go some much faster. So much more of the energy from your leg pushing down on one side and pulling up on the other goes into propelling the bike with clipless pedals than with standard flat pedals. Because your favorite independent local bike shop will gouge you on shoes and shorts, get accessories such as shoes and shorts, and maybe even pedals, at some place like Performance Bicycle. Performance is the cycling equivalent of Wal-Mart. But take in your pedals (or your bike if your pedals are attached to it) and tell them you need inexpensive shoes and cleats that are compatible with your pedals. Clipless pedals do have a learning curve. You will fall and be embarrassed more than hurt. It's OK. You'll fall at very low speeds. I've only fallen twice.

Get a pair of cycling shorts. You'll be happier and probably unchafed that you did. Yes, spandex and a crotch pad (chamois — indeed a little alpine goat-like animal used to die for the comfort of cyclists; now it's all wicking synthetics) will make you feel ridiculous. That feeling will last for six months. Then you'll be buff enough you can wear the shorts in your modeling photo shoots. . . . I hope all of this helps. Let me know if you have questions.

Yours in beer and bicycles,
Cycledork

Cudgel of shame

As this entry addresses cycling and certain winter weather conditions, certain readers will want to wait until the next post. You know who you are. Anyway. It snowed early this morning followed by other forms of precipitation throughout the day. Here in the Triangle that phenomenon unhinges people. It would be hilarious if it weren't so moronic. I was in the office by 8:45 a.m. I was one of the first ones in, preceded, by among others, our big boss. She's Canadian so the dusting and sleet and rain had no effect. Nevertheless she noted that I had come in on the mountain bike. At that point I offered myself as the previously mentioned cudgel of shame with which she could beat our coworkers. Though charmed by my selflessness, my observation indicated she declined to take advantage. After making my offer I walked to my standing appointment at the Cary Police Department. My contact there wasted no time in kindheartedly using me as an instrument of discipline for some of his tardier charges. But, you know, if a guy on a mountain bike can beat you into work during a seasonal hiccup you should be embarrassed, no matter how terribly the natives have gummed up traffic on the freeways.
Here at cycledork central the big news is that there were no flaming socks today. The new rain pants held up their end. My hikers and tops performed as dependably as a rider could want. Even though this was the day The Secret Weapon was designed for, they only work with the pedals on the 2100. I know though from some rainy rides that they live up to their billing. As you might expect from a group that can delay highways for hours over an inch of semisolid precipitation, drivers were stupid. Fortunately, where I was riding, they were few. Bottom line: the only moisture on my skin at either end of the trip was perspiration.

How it turned out

I was able to get in rides yesterday and today after all. There was a little mist while I was out in the middle of nowhere but the rain so confidently predicted by my favorite source for weather information never materialized. Neither ride was the jaunt CD's Friday Ride Guide envisioned. Instead Saturday's and Sunday's rides were truncated versions of Friday's vision. I just had to feel like a champ on Farrington Road before I turned at Hollands Chapel Road.

Like so many weekends this one did not turn out as planned. A friend who's covered my butt called and needed help moving Saturday. My only questions were where and when. The two hours — don't get me wrong, they were well spent helping a friend — were hours originally planned for the 2100. But we haven't been on the back side of the solstice long enough for that benefit to show up in terms of noticeably increased light for weekend rides. With threats of rain for today, I figured Saturday's ride would wrap up 2006 for cycledork. The predicted rain still hadn't started by 1 p.m. Sunday so I pulled myself together and cranked it out at a little more than 19 mph.

I bought a new cycle computer in early June. The odometer reading after I got in today was 2,456. That's about 100 miles per week and factors in three weeks when, for a variety of reasons, I did not ride at all. But after May 15, when I went to work I rode a bike every day except two: May 22 and June 14. On the first of those days I got a flat down the street from cycledork central so I took the easy way out by coming back to headquarters and getting in the car. On the second, as Tropical Storm Alberto came through, it was clear to me I was unequipped to deal with the weather. I have both worked and spent to equip myself properly since and the work is still in progress. We're all familiar with cycledork's aversion to wet feet, the miraculous arrival of the secret weapon and the plusses and minuses of various rain pants (don't be surprised if a rain-pants review shows up soon).

So what's the payoff for all of this, particularly over the last seven months and the miles? It's that cycledork's healthier than he has been in my adult life. I'm a rock and my doctor gushes when he reviews my lab results. It's a finger to an employer's auto-insurance requirements so subtle it will likely never be noticed. It's everything learned about how to ride and how to commute, two related but separate activities. And it's the rush — the only ones cycledork's had that are better are sex and skiing. See you on the road.

The secret weapon …

Like so many other solstice miracles, arrived today. A pair of Sidi Hydro GTX. Ah, the magic of Gore-tex. And what a perfect day to see what they're made of — pouring down rain, about 50 degrees. I haven't seen it rain this hard since Tropical Storm Ernesto. Anyway. So I get my gear on, do about a mile. The boots are bulletproof from the outside. Once I figure out how to keep water from getting in — and it was only light seepage into the right shoe — I'm golden. And again, about those Illuminite pants. Reflective, warm, yes. Waterproof, no; another wet-ass four-minute ride. I'll be looking at Plan B and beyond to protect myself from the elements below the waist.

Cycledork wishes for webbed feet. With cleats.

As our nontropical storm continued into a second day, I faced the question so many two-wheeled men have but so few admit: what to wear? This question has been critical lately as I've prepared to ride in the rain. The good news is that most of my wardrobe is now set — even if half of it could stand improvement. Since the weather's cooled I wear a long-sleeve jersey or wicking t-shirt and my waterproof, windproof, bright red Patagonia synthetic hooded pullover. If the temperature's below 35 or so, I wear my cardinal-red Ibex wool hooded pullover in between. No use weaseling: I paid through the nose for those last two garments. On the other hand they perform up to every expectation for dryness and warmth, respectively, that I could have. Deciding what to wear over my torso is even more straightforward than picking my ride. If it's not raining in the morning it's the trusty Trek 2100. Wet skies when I wake up almost always mean my wife's ancient but dependable Nishiki tank.
Clothing becomes more problematic below the waist particularly the closer I get to my feet. Between my waist and my ankles I wear a pair of tights and my supposedly waterproof Illuminite pants. I'll concede that my Illuminite pants are nearly waterproof. They take on water through the butt seam and have since I got them. Though that situation is irksome I'll take the Illuminite as they're way ahead of the so called rain pants they replaced that shredded after three rides. Given the promotional buildup they get you think they'd at least come with a bilge pump or something. Anyway, though not waterproof, the Illuminites are fantastically windproof and warm and perfect for dry rides. As far as my tights go, the Pearl Izumis conform to my body better than the Louis Garneaus but the chamois in the LGs is about a light year more comfortable. Nothing's perfect and I just have to lump it.
Call me obsessive compulsive but I can't stand having dirty hands or wet feet. You want to mindfuck me, there's the secret. I don't think there's any such thing as waterproof cycling gloves so I just peel 'em off when I get to my destination and wash my hands. Quickly. But for all the time I've put in considering how to keep my feet dry while pedalling in the rain I could've cured cancer or at least have read a really good book. For the time being, at least, I've come up with two solutions, one for the road bike and the other for the mountain bike. On the road bike, as I reported yesterday, I use my supposedly waterproof Hind shoe covers. Though more or less inadequate, they are an improvement over my supposedly water-resistant Pearl Izumi covers. The PIs seem to actively attract moisture. When wearing the Pearls with 1-gallon Glad freezer bags, waterproof was within reach. That was great if I didn't mind arriving somewhere with feet not rain soaked but certainly sweat slicked. Not to mention the bulk that would seem to diminish sensation while pedalling. On the Nishiki I abandon any pretension of cycling savoir faire. I wear field-tested waterproof hikers with wicking boot socks even with the full bike get up from the ankles north. With no clipless pedals I can go for comfort all the way. Even in fall deluge, day two I was only damp at the intersection of Illuminite and right boot sock when I got to work.

Warm yet not fiery

The Triangle is getting blasted by the late-fall equivalent of a tropical storm. After the smoking-socks incident last week I was relieved to arrive home from my afternoon commute and find that my supposedly waterproof shoe covers had indeed kept my feet dry. Today was the first of four times I have used the covers when they have come close to being waterproof as advertised — but only because I made an effort to coordinate the functions of all my gear. I am always careful to make sure the covers' velcro enclosures are completely secure and that my rain pants go over the covers. This afternoon I carefully and tightly applied my reflective ankle straps in an attempt to keep my pants legs from coming off of the covers. End result: the top of one footie was mildly damp. However, my shoes and feet were dry and comfortable. I accept my progress in small doses.