Many avid cyclists would love to share their joy of cycling with their children, but some find that their children aren’t interested at all. I am lucky – for now – that my son shares my love of the sport. How did this happen?

It’s a good question, and I cannot claim to have found the magic bullet. I think the most important aspect is that your children need to discover cycling for themselves. If you push them into any sport, there are typically two outcomes: They either become compliant clones of you without much personality of their own, or they rebel against you and never touch a bike. Neither outcome is what you want.

My son showed no interest in bikes for a long time. It was only when his younger sister taught herself to ride with a neighbor’s bike, that he, too, wanted to learn to ride. We have an alley with infrequent traffic and they typically rode there with the neighbor children. We then went on some rides around the neighborhood as a family, and we took the opportunity to teach them how to ride in traffic and anticipate problems before they occur.

A year or two later my son graduated from a $3 yard sale one-speed to his first real kid’s cyclocross bike (shown below). Then he started to enjoy cycling. We equipped his bike with a custom-made rack, fenders and lights. I made up outings that the two of us could go on, like around Magnolia (5 to 10 miles), and I’ll have to admit to adding an enticement of a stop at a local ice-cream shop.

We rode together to music lessons, basketball, soccer, museums… He soon started riding by himself to his activities. Then, one day, he decided to “go on a ride” by himself. He tried to retrace a route we had taken before. He got lost and discovered some interesting streets and sites. When he found his way home, he clearly had been bitten by the bug of cycling. He tested his new-found freedom by riding places that I thought a bit challenging, but he did OK. He learned to navigate by landmarks, such as the ship canal that bisects Seattle, and he always found his way home. (He knows our phone number, just in case, and I taught him how to fix a flat.) When he’s “bored”, many times he’ll decide to go for a ride or out for a run.

When the Islabike test bike arrived last summer, he read in the product description that it was suitable for cyclocross, and he wanted to try that. The result was a wonderful season of ‘cross last autumn. Lately, he’s joined me on longer rides on this bike. We’ll see where it all goes. He is still young, and his interests range wide. I don’t know whether he’ll enjoy cycling for the rest of his life – for the moment, I am just enjoying our rides together.

The impetus for each step in his cycling came from him, and I think that is important. On the other hand, my daughter had little interest in cycling for a few years, and that was OK, too. Both have to develop their own, unique personalities, and it’s my job to connect to them in their own worlds, rather than try to drag them into mine.

To summarize, my suggestions include:

1. Don’t push your child toward cycling, but allow them to join you when they want to. Make sure your rides together are suited to their abilities.
2. Buy a good bike for your kids. The cheaper ones are usually not much fun to ride. Don’t worry that they’ll outgrow it – good bikes have high resale values, so you’ll get most of your money back. More importantly, you don’t want to miss the opportunity to have them enjoy cycling.
3. Trust your kids, and work with them to increase their responsibilities and range. Don’t be afraid to let them ride by themselves once they have shown that they are competent in traffic.
4. Let your passion be a habit that your children observe in you, and allow them to define their own passion.
5. Be proud of your child(ren).

Hideki Sasaki has released the second book in the “Derailleurs of the World” series. The new book covers Simplex, perhaps the most influential derailleur maker of all. From the earliest 1920s designs to the last slant parallelogram derailleurs of the 1990s, they are all documented in their many variations.

Simplex is a fascinating story. I loved seeing the early front derailleurs that were found on those wonderful 1930s Reyhands. The ubiquitous “Tour de France” model that equipped so many post-war racing bikes. The crazy Juy 543 that fetches such incredible prices on eBay. The first twin-pivot parallelogram derailleurs, which then led to the wonderfully light and jewel-like SLJs of the 1970s and 1980s. Mixed in with these gems are the abysmal plastic derailleurs that ruined Simplex’ reputation once and for all. Yet even those somehow look appealing when photographed in brand-new condition in the studio.

If you ever wondered how to distinguish an SLJ from the 1970s from a later 1980s one, or what the difference between the SX and the SLJ was, you’ll find the answers here. The text is in Japanese, but the photos – now in full color – are wonderful, and you don’t need to read Kanji to figure out model number, capacity, weight and manufacturing dates.

These books are hard to find outside Japan. We placed a one-time order of 15 copies. I am keeping one, and the others are available while supplies last. The Campagnolo book in the same series sold out within two hours, so if you want a copy, don’t delay.

The book has 117 pages, softcover, and costs $ 68. Since this is a special order, we won’t put up a page for it in the Bicycle Quarterly bookstore. Instead, go straight to our shopping basket to order.

Update 7/12/2014: All the Simplex books are sold. Thank you for your interest.

Second and last order 7/14/2014: Due to the number of disappointed customers who missed out on the first batch, we’ll place another order. We’ll also receive another shipment of the first volume on Campagnolo. To receive a copy, you must pre-order here by 7/16/2014.

Sometimes we get an e-mail or a phone call from a customer asking, “I bought the Compass 32 mm tires, but they only measure 28.5 mm on my rims. Why is this?”

Decades ago, some tire makers cheated when stating tire widths. Why? To make their tires appear lighter than they really were. By selling a 25 mm tire as a 28 mm, they made the tire seem lighter than the competition’s tires, which actually were 3 mm wider.

That was long ago, and it’s not what is going on here. We label our tires as close to their actual width as possible. Here is why different people report different widths for their tires:

1. It can be difficult to accurately measure the width of a supple tire.
2. The casing of supple tires stretches for a few weeks or even months after they have been installed.
3. Tire width depends on tire pressure and rim width. That means the actual width can be a little narrower or wider than the nominal width.

I recently installed a set of Compass Barlow Pass Extralight 700C x 38 mm tires on a Bicycle Quarterly test bike. How wide are they really?

When you measure metal with calipers, you squeeze the calipers until they won’t go any further, and then read your measurement. If you compress the calipers on a rubber tire, the tire will deflect. In this case, I measured 34 mm. But that isn’t the actual width of the tire: If you tried to fit the tire into a frame with just enough clearance for 34 mm tires, it would rub.

Here is how you measure tire width: Open up your calipers in 0.5 mm increments. Check whether there is “play” between the caliper jaws and the tire. In the photo above, I am already at 35.5 mm, and the calipers still fit snugly on the tire.

At 36.5 mm, I am finally getting some wiggle. This means that the tire is just over 36 mm wide. That is the width when it’s new.

Two weeks later, I measured the tire again. It has stretched to 36.5 mm. I was surprised that it was still so narrow, until I checked the tire pressure. I had let the pressure drop to about 30 psi. How wide would the tire be at its maximum pressure?

I inflated the tire to 75 psi, and lo and behold, it now measured 37.5 mm. It probably will stretch a little more, and achieve its full 38 mm width before long. Of course, I wouldn’t ride it at that pressure (unless I put it on a tandem), so at the pressures I usually ride, the tire will be a tad narrower than its nominal width.

Should I inflate my tires to a higher pressure to make them wider? No, that doesn’t make sense. Your tire’s comfort and performance is determined by the tire width at the contact patch, which gets larger at lower pressure. Putting more air than necessary into the tire defeats the purpose, even if it makes the tire wider where it does not touch the ground.

For narrower tires, rim width also plays a role. The Compass Stampede Pass tires measure about 31 mm on a 20 mm-wide rim, like a Mavic MA-2, but 33 mm wide on a 23 mm-wide rim, like a Grand Bois rim. For wider tires, this is less of a factor, since all the rims we use are narrow when compared to the wide tire.

In any case, our testing has shown that the material and construction of the casing are more important for comfort and speed than a millimeter or two in width. When you put a set of supple Compass tires on your bike, you’ll notice a huge difference in how the bike feels and performs.

And when you buy your next bike, make sure to spec a frame that provides ample tire width. On my own bikes, I am not too concerned whether the tires measure 39 or 41.5 mm. Either is ample for most of the riding I do.

Further reading: How Wide a Tire Can I Run?

Once upon a time, most stems had quills that inserted into the steerer tube. The stems were made from forged aluminum. Cinelli, 3TTT and others offered them. They were attractive and relatively lightweight, and stem failures were unheard of. Many of these old stems are still ridden daily, decades after they were made.

Today, most stems are for Aheadsets and clamp directly to the steerer tube. The first ones usually were welded or CNC-machined. Today, most are forged as well, and they no longer break as often as they used to when this technology was still new. They are a little lighter, but the most important reason for the switch is that the fork makers no longer have to thread the steerer tubes. The threads had to match the frame head tube, which required a different fork for each frame size. With threadless forks, one size fits all.

One manufacturer has continued to make forged aluminum quill stems during this time:  Nitto in Japan. Their top-of-the-line model was called “Pearl” until recently. For some reason, Nitto cannot use the name “Pearl” any longer, so now they are simply called “NP”. I imagine this being short for “Nitto Pearl”. What hasn’t changed are the high quality and the beautiful finish. The classic Italian stems never looked this nice.

Another reason to like the Nitto “NP” is that it can be equipped with the Grand Bois/Compass decaleur – the only decaleur with tolerances tight enough that your bag doesn’t jump out when you ride on bumpy roads.

The decaleur is modeled on an old Alex Singer design. It replaces the bar clamp bolt of the stem, and it comes with all the hardware needed to install it. We also offer Grand Bois wonderful fillet-brazed steel stems (which are also made by Nitto), but they are expensive, so you better know your stem length before ordering one. The Nitto Pearl is a great and more affordable solution to getting a reliable decaleur.

The decaleur is a quick release for your handlebar bag. It keeps the bag away from the bars, so you can use all hand positions. And when you leave your bike, you simply pull the bag upwards and take it with you. You still need a rack to support the bag, as the decaleur only serves to stabilize it at the top. Rack and decaleur combined weigh less than most bag attachments that only attach to the handlebars, plus, it puts the bag low over the front wheel, so your bike handles better.

The Grand Bois/Compass decaleur has proven itself very durable. After having seen too many decaleurs that failed, usually far from home in the middle of long rides, we are glad to offer a solution that works reliably.

Compass Bicycles now offers the Nitto “NP” stem in lengths between 80 and 120 mm, as well as the matching decaleurs. Click here for more information.

When I am riding alone, cycling is meditation for me. When riding with friends, it’s uninterrupted time together. In both cases, it means leaving my busy life behind. No random e-mails, no urgent phone calls, nobody coming to my desk. Usually no one even knows exactly where I am (although I leave an itinerary with my family just in case something unexpected happens).

It’s an important for me to keep relearning the ability to live in the moment – for significant periods of time. I value it greatly. I need it in order to refresh my creativity which is behind every issue of Bicycle Quarterly and every product we develop for Compass Bicycles.

You may have figured out that I don’t have a cell phone. Of course I have been told repeatedly how cell phones have saved lives when they were used to call for help in emergencies. That is undeniable. One can also argue that these are rare exceptions. In any case, it’s a risk that I find is an acceptable trade-off for being out of reach.

For me, careful planning, anticipating problems and being alert are more important than the ability to call for help – if there is cell phone connection at all. (Many of our favorite rides are out of range.)

So for some of you readers and customers, this means that it can take a few days until your e-mails are answered or your comments on this blog are approved (although staff addresses some of them). That is OK – we don’t deal with life-threatening crises at Compass Bicycles and Bicycle Quarterly.

In today’s busy, hyper-connected world, being out of reach is a rare, profound freedom.

It’s rare that I fall completely in love with a product, but it happened with the Nitto bottle cages. Ever since I began cycling seriously, I have been looking for the perfect bottle cages. In the late 1980s, almost everybody used the aluminum TA bottle cages. They were lightweight, but they tended to break after a year or two. Then came a number of welded aluminum bottle cages that lasted a bit longer, but they were heavier and looked clumsy. Plastic cages also were durable, but I did not find them elegant.

When I discovered the American Classic bottle cages, I really liked them. Instead of welds that could fail, these were clamped in an ingenious way by the bolt that attached them to the frame. They lasted much longer than any of the bottle cages I had used before, but being made from aluminum, they turned black and marred my bottles. Nonetheless, I used them for more than a decade, and even stocked up after American Classic stopped making them. My old Alex Singer still is equipped with them.

Over the years, other bottle cages have become available that are durable, but I find most of them too bulky to match the aesthetics of a classic steel frame.

When I built up my Grand Bois Urban Bike seven years ago, I decided to give the Nitto bottle cages a try. They seemed expensive at the time, but they really have delivered on all my criteria. They are made from thin stainless steel, so they look in proportion to the steel tubes of my frame. Being stainless, they don’t mar my bottles. They grip my bottles securely, yet the bottles are easy to retrieve and insert. Over the years, they have proven remarkably durable. They have become the epitome of bottle cages for me.

On my Urban Bike, I use the “R” (racing) model, with two loops that hold the bottle in a spring-loaded grip. The shape allows you to pull the bottle slightly upward (and push downward to put the bottle back in the cage), which makes it easy to get a drink without looking down.

When I built my René Herse, I was trying to keep the weight of the bike as light as possible, so I chose the “R80″ bottle cages. They have the same shape, but are made from tubular steel instead of solid rod (photo at the top of this post). The “R80″ is 20% lighter than the “R”. At just 40 grams, its weight is competitive with many carbon fiber bottle cages.

For the third bottle cage underneath the down tube, I use the “T” (touring, above). It forms a closed loop, so the weight of the bottle cannot open the cage as it hangs underneath the down tube. Even during the 360 miles of (mostly) rough gravel roads during the Oregon Outback, my third bottle remained secure. You can also use the “T” in a more conventional location, but it requires a little more precision when retrieving or replacing the bottle. (I’ve done it on the move even with the bottle mounted under the down tube, so it’s not a big deal.)

Made by craftsmen in Japan, these are all the bottle cages I’ll ever need. Mine have withstood many hard miles. They represent the finishing touch on a beautiful bike. These bottle cages are so good that we decided to offer them in our Compass Bicycles program.

To go with these cages, we use our Compass water bottles. Made by Camelbak, these are another product we found to be so good that we decided to offer them through Compass Bicycles. We love the ease of squirting a mouthful of water from these bottles, yet they don’t leak significantly, even if you leave the top valve open.

We also offer the Iribe bottle cages, which are silver-brazed from tubular stainless steel by Mr. Iribe, a master Keirin framebuilder. (He was portrayed in the Summer 2014 issue of Bicycle Quarterly.) While these cages are completely functional and superlight, they really are works of art. I love the little reinforcing plates that Mr. Iribe wraps over the joints to act as lugs, since you cannot easily fillet-braze stainless steel. I am glad the Iribe cages exist, but for my own bikes, the simpler Nitto cages are all I need.

Click here for more information on the cages and bottles.

When I was a kid, I loved cars. My first question to any owner of a sports car was: “What’ll she do?” I approach bikes similarly – I care about how they ride first and foremost.

Some cyclists these days seem to be concerned what their bike is, not what it does. One camp will never ride anything but lugged steel frames. For another, it’s carbon or nothing. Some will never ride narrow tires, others would never consider a tire wider than 23 mm.

Bicycle Quarterly doesn’t fall neatly into any of these categories, even if we sometimes are perceived as biased toward steel frames, or French bikes, or wide tires. For example, Craig Calfee told me that he was surprised when I loved his “Adventure” carbon bike: “I thought you were more of a steel guy.” My answer was simple: “I like great bikes, and yours was a great bike.”

It’s really that simple: We like any bike that performs. Our first question is: “How does it ride?” Given a choice, I’d rather be on a carbon bike that performs and handles well than a steel bike on which I bog down. I’d also much prefer supple 23 mm tires that fly over the pavement over 42 mm tires with stiff sidewalls that make the bike feel harsh and sluggish.

When I am on the bike, I don’t notice stickers or materials. What I care most about is whether the bike feels like an extension of my body. The best bikes do this, whether they are made from steel, carbon, titanium or aluminum. I am sure a good bamboo bike would, too, I just haven’t ridden one yet.

When I stop, I do look at the bike, and I realize that a beautiful bike is important to me. To me, beauty is independent of the materials. I can appreciate the hand-wrapped carbon tubes of a Calfee (above) as much as the finely filed lugs on my Herse (below).

More than the joints, I care about the line of the bike. Is the frame well-proportioned? If there are fenders, do they follow the outlines of the wheels? Does the rack sit nice and low above the wheel? Beauty for me is first about the entire bike, seen from 20 feet away.

I also appreciate the craftsmanship that becomes evident when you move in close and look at the details. While I can appreciate the whimsy of ornamentation, I am drawn to simple, beautifully executed details that express the function of the bike. The dropouts of this 1952 René Herse are a case in point: There is nothing superfluous here, and yet everything is supremely refined. It’ll perform as well as it looks.

“Form follows function” has become a pretty worn phrase by now, but it expresses my aesthetics better than anything else. And that also gets to the heart of what makes a great bike: It performs beautifully, it looks nice, and it is superbly crafted. These qualities are complementary. If a bike is lacking in one area, it affects the others as well. An inelegant fork bend doesn’t absorb shock well. A poor fender line that may cause an accident if debris gets stuck between tire and fender. An ill-proportioned frame rarely has the flex characteristics that enable the rider to get in sync with the bike. “What looks right performs right.” The corollary to the cliché is that an unattractive bike rarely performs as well as it could.

These qualities have little to do with simple labels like “steel is real” or “carbon is fast”. True craftsmanship is possible with any material, and the results are remarkably similar in their ride quality. And that is a good thing, because it’s always the same human body pedaling the bike.

So let’s look beyond labels and stereotypes and focus on what truly matters: “What’ll she do?”

It’s encouraging to see that handbuilt bicycles have made such a resurgence in recent years. Building a frame by hand is a labor-intensive process, but done right, the result is a bike that rides better and is more versatile than any mass-produced machine. The best bikes today have custom-made racks that are designed to fit the bike, so they do not need sliding adjustments and thus are lighter, stiffer and unlikely to rattle loose.

Making a good rack is a lot of work, especially if you use small tabs to attach the rack to the fork or frame. Compared to tubes or other attachments, the thin tabs put less torque on the bolt, and so the rack is less likely to loosen due to the vibrations of the road. If you file these tabs by hand, you’ll spend about 20 minutes per tab. And the rack shown above has six of them, so that is two hours of filing tabs! (How do I know? I made the tabs for the rack above.)

To make rack-building a little easier, Compass Bicycles now offers rack tabs. There are two versions:

• Version 1 (top) is for the ends of rack tubes, so it has a 5 mm hole and a tab at the end that goes into the rack tube.
• Version 2 (bottom) is intended as a frame braze-on, so it has a 4.2 mm hole that is ready for M5 threading.

The tabs are laser-cut from 2.5 mm-thick steel and dimensioned for 1/4″, 7 mm or 8 mm rack tubing. More details are here.

Also new are these nifty frame alignment gauges. Developed by Bicycle Quarterly contributors Alex Wetmore and Hahn Rossman, they greatly facilitate checking the alignment of the frame during and after the build process. There are two versions, one for bikes with 130 – 142 mm rear spacing (top), and one for bikes with 120 – 135 mm spacing (bottom). More details are here.

These new products complement our existing range of fork crowns, fork blades, centerpull brake pivots and other framebuilding supplies. Click here for more information about our framebuilding supplies.

During a recent family vacation on the Big Island of Hawaii, we did plenty of snorkeling and hiking, with a bit of surfing, and otherwise enjoyed the beaches. For me, the mountainous island presented the opportunity to explore a new landscape by bike. The Big Island is famous for the Ironman Triathlon, and most cyclists I saw were on the shoulder of the main highway, riding tri or racing bikes with narrow tires.

I had a different type of riding in mind. I wanted to explore the mountain roads of the island. After a few memorable road rides that will feature in an upcoming issue of Bicycle Quarterly, I set out to explore the gravel roads above Captain Cook during our last few days on the island. I had seen the roads on my map, and it looked like several nice loops were possible.

I had brought Alex Wetmore’s travel bike, which was designed to fit a large range of his friends. It packs into a suitcase as large as the front wheel, so it was simple to bring along.

Since I planned to spend the days with my family, I rode before breakfast. I left at the crack of dawn. Captain Cook is on the western slopes of Mauna Loa, one of the two big volcanoes on the island. Apart from the highway that circles the island, most roads switchback either up or down. I wasn’t interested in the beach, so that meant going up. Without a handlebar bag adding a little weight to the front of the bike, it was sometimes hard to keep the front wheel on the ground during steep climbs.

And steep they were, these roads. While the Hawaiian shield volcanoes look like a shallow shield from a distance, up close they are made up of individual lava flows, which breaks them up into flat plateaus and very steep ascents. The town of Captain Cook lies at the foot of such an ascent…

The first morning, I tried all kinds of small roads, often merely two tracks of asphalt with grass in the middle. I climbed and climbed, only to find dead ends. It was fun, but I was not successful in my goal to reach the gravel roads on the plateau above the town.

That night, I fired up my travel laptop and checked satellite images on Google maps. I prepared the next day’s ride in great detail, tracing routes on the map and checking the satellite images to make sure the roads really existed. I was excited, as it seemed certain that I’d reach my goal this time.

I climbed yet another vertiginous road that seemed to lead straight up to the sky. It was a fun 30-minute climb. On top, another disappointment awaited. The gravel road was there, but it led through farmland. There were gates and “No Trespassing” signs. The gates did not show up on the satellite images, which is why geographers insist on “ground truth” when they interpret these images.

A man walking his dog said: “You are the first cyclist I’ve seen up here!”  He confirmed that yet another promising side road ended up at “an estate”. I took it anyhow – it was a nice ride.

On top, I met two mules behind yet another gate. The mules came over to see what I was doing as I checked my map. I tried another road, with the same result – gates blocked off the access to the gravel roads.

I finally gave up and just enjoyed the ride. The climbs were so steep that I had to keep working hard all the time. The descents had me brake continuously. Where possible, I let the bike roll to cool the rims. Several times I stopped to check the rims’ temperature. Each time, they were too hot to touch, but not sizzling when I put a wet finger on them. No danger of melting the rubber on the tire bead and suffering a blowout, then.

I enjoyed my ride immensely, even the parts on the highway that connected the various hillclimbs. I passed a beautiful old church…

… and incredible trees. The vegetation on the island never ceased to amaze me. Depending on the slopes’ orientation to the prevailing winds and thus moisture, the landscape can be almost desert-like or the lushed rainforest. Captain Cook was on the lush side, although not as green as the northern side of the island.

I wish I had more time, because after looking at various maps, I now have found a few roads that look like they should connect to the gravel roads. Only “ground truth” can tell whether they really do. I guess I’ll have to come back…

Eric Hayes is the craftsman who polishes our René Herse cranks, locally on the outskirts of Seattle. These days, most bike parts are black, and few in the bike industry still have the skills to polish metal without grinding off too much material, which looks ugly and affects the strength of lightweight parts. So we went outside the bike industry to find a polisher whose work is better than anything we’ve seen elsewhere.

Eric works with his partner Tracy in Edgewood. He polishes all types of metal. It’s hard and dirty work, but he takes great pride in his craftsmanship.

Here is a sample of his work, a hood ornament for a 1950s car. On the right, you see what it looked like when it arrived: terribly pitted. On the left is the condition after Eric finished his magic. His display includes hub caps that were dented and rusted, and now look like new. The sign with the labor rates is outdated. Eric’s rates have gone up: Skilled labor has a price.

Most of Eric’s work is for restorations of cars or motorcycles, but he does other things, too. The biggest job he’s had recently was to polish an entire private jet! Many of you have seen his work on a few bikes that have been featured in our book The Golden Age of Handbuilt Bicycles.

Here is how Eric polishes our cranks. He starts with sandpaper to smooth out the inside of the grooves that are forged into the arms.

Then he uses a disc sander to remove the parting lines of the forging dies.

The main polishing comes next. There are many different polishing wheels. Each material has its own wheels. First, a rougher wheel is used (photo at the top of this post), which then is followed by a finer wheel (above).

From start to finish, polishing a crankset takes about an hour. Then the cranks go into an ultrasonic cleaner to remove the residue from the polishing. A final buffing by hand, and they are ready to be assembled as you order them, with any chainring combination from 24 to 52 teeth.

What you end up with is a crank that isn’t just shiny, but also has all the details of the wonderful shape intact. Polishing cranks to this standard is a lot of work, but we believe the final result is worth it. That way, the appearance of our cranks matches their functionality.

The cranks are in stock now. Click here for more information.

Testing bicycles may sound like a dream job – you get to ride all kinds of bicycles without having to pay for them – but it comes with risks. We ride the bikes hard, although we don’t abuse them. We are relatively smooth riders, so we don’t stress components unduly. Even when riding the bikes as intended, problems often manifest themselves during our two-week test. We’ve tested more than 60 bikes, and there have been a number of close calls and actual injuries.

On one test bike, the headlight fell off and hung from its wire, dangling in the spokes. On another, a poorly mounted front fender broke loose and wrapped itself around the front wheel during a high-speed descent on a busy road. I was lucky not to crash, but a friend of a friend suffered a similar failure on a bike from the same maker and is still dealing with a the consequences of a brain injury.

I’ve broken my thumb when the tires of a test bike offered next to no grip in the wet, and I crashed as I braked for the first corner. Two handlebar bags have flown off the front rack from decaleurs that were too loose or broke off entirely. I rode over one, the other one went sideways. A year ago, I approached a stoplight at the bottom of a steep hill when the straddle cable pulled out of the front cantilever brake, leaving me with only the rear brake and almost no brake power. That certainly was exciting!

I’ve had other close calls. A just-introduced hydraulic disc brake was recalled two weeks after our test. The seals could blow out in cold temperatures, “resulting in abrupt loss of brake power, and an inability to stop the bike,” according to the manufacturer. And I just had taken the bike with those brakes on steep mountain descents and braked so hard that I could feel the left fork blade flex and affect the bike’s steering. Good thing it wasn’t very cold during my night-time descents on the bike.

A carbon fork I had been testing was recalled the next month, because several of them had broken after just a few months of riding. On another bike, a tire was mounted incorrectly with a large wobble. On yet another, a front brake pad came loose. Fortunately, I noticed it before it fell off completely.

Why write about these incidents? There is no glory in road rash or broken bones. I write about them because all these problems were avoidable, and we don’t want the same things to happen to you. The problems were due to poor design, careless manufacture or faulty installation. On our own bikes, these incidents simply don’t happen. We choose parts that have proven themselves over many years of riding. We are careful to assemble our bikes well. If something breaks, it’s usually after many years of hard use.

If you are fastidious, you’ll completely strip down any bike you buy and re-assemble it correctly before you ride it. Car racers do that when they buy a race car… For most people, this isn’t practical, but here are five safety checks that can eliminate some of the biggest risk factors:

• Brakes: Pull on the lever for the front brake as hard as you can. The brake pads should squish, the brake may flex, but the cable should not pull out of its anchor on the brake. I’ve done this test on three new bikes recently, and on two, the cable pulled out of the brake. On these bikes, the brakes work fine until you really need them in an emergency situation!
• Check that both tires are seated correctly. Most tires have a line molded into the sidewall that should sit just above the edge of the rim. That line must be concentric with the rim. If it dives under the rim edge, the tire isn’t seated correctly and could blow off while you ride.
• Push down sharply on the brake levers (with drop bars) or the ends of the handlebars (with swept-back bars). The bars should not rotate in the stem.
• If your bike has a decaleur, insert the bag and remove it. Is it tight enough to stay put when you go over big bumps? If it isn’t, use additional straps to secure the bag on the rack platform.
• Problems with wheel quick releases have been publicized so much that they hopefully are rare. Even so, check that they are closed tightly.

Assembly problems are usually easy to correct or mitigate. More difficult is dealing with issues of poor design. Often, the only solution there is to walk away. There are also some things that I prefer not to test, because they are simply too dangerous:

• Inexpensive carbon forks. There are just too many cases of them breaking.
• Bikes that have anything clamped to a tapering fork blade. It’s bound to come loose.
• Fenders that are poorly mounted or have inadequate clearances.
• Sorry to say, but anything sold by Civia. Too many recalls, and too poorly designed are their bikes.

Cycling is not a particularly dangerous sport, but like any activity, taking sensible precautions greatly reduces your risk. I wish companies would take more care when they design their bikes and components – they are playing with our lives!

At Bicycle Quarterly, we will keep pushing bike builders and manufacturers to make their bikes safer. As avid riders, our own health and safety depends on it.

Do you have any additional tests you use to reduce the risk on a newly-assembled bike?

The Autumn 2014 issue of Bicycle Quarterly is at the printer. It will be mailed soon. We are excited to share a variety of topics with our readers.

The Oregon Outback was an exciting gravel event, and we bring you right into the action with two features. One brings you the atmosphere of the ride, while the other examines what makes a perfect gravel bike.

Speaking of bikes, we test the Ritchey Swiss Cross. Can a cyclocross bike keep up with a good road bike on smooth pavement, yet also tackle gravel roads off the beaten path?

The Toussaint Velo Routier is an affordable 650B frame. We take it on a ride to find out how it performs.

Junzo Kawai, long-time chairman of the board of Suntour, died recently. We look at his life and how he led Suntour toward remarkable innovations that we continue to use today.

We visited Tokyo and here report on the cycling culture of this amazing metropolis. Among many surprises, we found double-decker bike racks and juvenile wanna-be outlaws on bicycles with neon lights and batman wings.

Tokyo also is home to Honjo, makers of the world’s most beautiful fenders. We take you on a tour and show you how metal fenders are made.

Fenders are great to keep you and your bike dry and clean, but they also can cause accidents. We look at how to make your fender-equipped bike as safe as possible, so you don’t have to worry about your fender folding up and throwing you over the bars.

Product tests in this issue include SRAM’s revolutionary 1×11 drivetrain (above) and a minipump with a neat pressure gauge (below).

Click here for more information about Bicycle Quarterly or to subscribe.

On Labor Day, I scouted the routes and logistics for the Bicycle Quarterly “Un-Meeting”, which will be held (or “un-held”) in Packwood on September 13. After a few rainy days, it was a gorgeous sunny morning. With my family, we had been hiking in the area, so I started in Greenwater with the climb up Cayuse Pass. It was sunny and warm, but a few clouds obscured the top of Mount Rainier.

The sign on top of Cayuse Pass became a casualty of avalanches or snowplows a few winters ago, so now the “proof of passing” is the road sign at the top.

I added the bonus climb to Chinook Pass – an out-and-back that was well worth the effort for the magnificent views at the top.

I wasn’t the only one enjoying the mountains. This VW Beetle-based Bugatti kit car roared down the mountain, making me a little envious of the fun its crew had. Except I had as much fun as we both roared down the long descent of Cayuse Pass. They stayed behind me for a long time, until I waved them past to get a better view.

The last miles to Packwood always are into a headwind, but they passed quickly. Here is the library, right in the middle of town. We’ll start our rides here at 9 a.m. The Hotel Packwood is across the street…

… and the campground is next door. The Bicycle Quarterly crew will stay at the campground, and we’ll have a campfire on Saturday night.

Packwood is nice, but its true attractions are the roads that radiate into the mountains. I went up Skate Creek Road, a perennial favorite that winds its way up a narrow valley.

Skate Creek Road is hard to surpass, but this small forest road is even better. It climbs and climbs at a moderate gradient, with views of the mountains from time to time.

I had no trouble finding the turn-off to Forest Road 84 – a good thing, since it’s part of one of our rides. Despite the sign that the road isn’t recommended for cars, the gravel was very smooth – more like hard-packed dirt than normal gravel.

For the first time, I came through here on a clear day (once I had been through here in a snowstorm, and twice at night). The view was as spectacular as I had imagined it, but I was disappointed that Mt. Rainier was still surrounded by clouds, with only the very top peeking out.

Then my attention was occupied by the descent. It’s ultra-fast if you let the bike roll, and great fun.

I re-joined Skate Creek Road in the Nisqually valley, and got another glimpse of Rainier’s summit – well, almost.

I entered the National Park through the back door. (I have an annual pass, and this route is 10 miles shorter and free of traffic.)

I always enjoy the old suspension bridge at Longmire, but even more today…

…since this was my big dinner stop. I had to wait 30 minutes for the restaurant to open, but it was well worth the wait. (I wrote some postcards in the mean time.)

The early dinner was followed by the long climb up to Paradise. While it’s a significant climb, it’s not very steep, and the gradient varies, so whenever you start to get tired, it relents, and you get a little rest. I stopped on the bridge over the Nisqually River and looked at the glacier (barely visible, covered with rocks, up the valley). The clouds above were a bit disconcerting – I had to hurry to get over the top before it got dark and really cold.

Looking down gave me a vertiginous view of the river… better to get going before I got dizzy.

The Paradise Lodge was as beautiful as ever, with a piano player and guests lounging after a day exploring the mountain. I resisted the temptation to stay for dessert, since the sun was setting outside.

And what a sunset it was, with the mountains glowing in orange and pink.

Just to tease me, there was another “almost” view of the mountain as I passed Reflection Lakes. It was twilight here, and I encountered a young black bear leaping onto the road about 40 feet ahead of me. I braked hard, and we both were equally surprised as we faced each other at close range. By the time I got my camera, the bear had disappeared into the undergrowth.

The super-fast descent to Box Canyon had me shiver a bit on my bike, but the climb up Backbone Ridge warmed me up alright. It was dark now…

… and as I looked back, I finally got a view of the summit free of clouds. I’d been chasing this view all day over four mountain passes, and here, in the fading light, the mountain finally revealed itself.

One mountain pass remained, but even the climb up the long side of Cayuse Pass wasn’t as challenging as it had been when I last rode it after 500 km during the Volcano-High Pass Super Randonnée.

It was 10 p.m. when I crested the pass. The ride back to Seattle was another 100 miles, but it passed quicker than I thought. In the still night, my bike seemed to fly, and even a few light rain showers didn’t dampen my spirits. Leaving Enumclaw on small roads, not a single car passed me for the next two hours, nor did I meet anybody during the next hour on the Green River Trail. I arrived home at 4 a.m., a little later than planned. It was a lovely ride, and I honestly can say that I enjoyed every minute of the 19 hours I was on the road. I just hope that the weather will be similarly nice next Saturday, except with fewer clouds over Mount Rainier!

About the Bicycle Quarterly “Un-Meeting”: The “un-meeting” isn’t an organized event. There is no entry fee, no services will be provided, there are no rules, and there is no insurance or liability of any kind. All that happens is that the Bicycle Quarterly crew will be doing a few rides starting at the Packwood Library at 9 a.m. on Saturday, September 13. Distances will range from 40 to 80 miles, and anybody is welcome to join us. In the evening, there will be a campfire. The goal is to meet like-minded cyclists and to have a good time. On Sunday, we’ll ride back to Seattle. We’ll post the route sheets in a few days, so you can print them out and bring them along. We hope to see you there!

Next weekend is the Bicycle Quarterly “Un-Meeting” in Packwood. The weather forecast is great: warm during the days, a little cooler at night, sunshine. Bring sunscreen! Here are a few things about logistics:

Getting there: Here is a route from the nearest train station in Centralia to Packwood.

For those riding from Seattle, there are several routes, either via the Green River Trail, Enumclaw and Cayuse Pass, or via Sumner, Eatonville and the Nisqually valley. We’ll probably take the latter, so we may see you out there on Friday.

Meeting is at 9 a.m. on Saturday, Sept. 13,  at the Packwood library (above, right in the center of town, across the street from the Hotel Packwood and the Packwood Campground).

Here are three rides in the area that we plan to do. Please be aware that the terrain is very mountainous and challenging. Don’t overestimate your capabilities! There is no cell phone service, and nobody to pick you up if you cannot make it.

1. Packwood, Skate Creek Road, Longmire, Paradise (Mt. Rainier National Park). A scenic road, all paved except a short stretch of smooth gravel to get into the park (through the backdoor). 52 km/ 33 miles round-trip. Extension to Paradise (4500+ ft climb) possible, for a total of 90 km/60 miles round-trip. Lunch available at Longmire and Paradise lodges (sit-down restaurant). Return the way you came (preferred), or by descending to Box Canyon, Ohanapecosh, Packwood (last 8 miles on busy highway). Click here for map, and here for route sheet.
2. Packwood, High Rock, Longmire, Paradise (Mt. Rainier Natl. Park). Same as 1, but going over the top of the ridge at High Rock, rather than in the valley at Skate Creek. Adds beautiful views, and gravel. 76 km/48 miles round-trip. Extension to Paradise (4500+ ft climb) possible, for a total of 117 km/73 miles round-trip. Lunch available at Longmire and Paradise lodges (sit-down restaurant). Return the way you came (preferred), or by descending to Box Canyon, Ohanapecosh, Packwood (last 8 miles on busy highway). Click here for map, and here for route sheet.
3. Packwood, Walupt Lake, Babyshoe Pass, (Trout Lake), Randle. A long gravel climb, a beautiful mountain lake, Babyshoe Pass. Plenty of gravel. Possibility to turn around at Walupt Lake (73 km/45 miles round-trip). 145 km/90 miles with no services for most of the ride. Extension to the remote Trout Lake with its diner famous for blackberry shakes offers services, but full distance is 223 km/140 miles. Click here for map, and here for route sheet.

Please print the route sheets for the rides you plan to do, since we’ll only have a few at the start.

On Saturday night, there will be a campfire at the Packwood Campground. On Sunday, we’ll ride back to Seattle.

About the Bicycle Quarterly “Un-Meeting”: The “un-meeting” isn’t an organized event. There is no entry fee, no services will be provided, there are no rules, and there is no insurance or liability of any kind. The goal is to meet like-minded cyclists and to have a good time. We hope to see you there!

It’s been five years since Compass Bicycles started selling SKF bottom brackets, and three years since we became the world’s exclusive distributor. At that point, we extended the warranty to 10 years, since we had great confidence in the quality of these bottom brackets. They have patented labyrinth seals, and their oversize bearings run directly on the spindle and shell. There was no reason to doubt the claim of the SKF engineers: These bottom brackets should last 100,000 km of rainy riding. Since most of us don’t ride in the rain all the time, they should last even longer in real life.

Now the first bottom brackets that we’ve installed are half-way through their minimum expected lifespan. I am happy to report that they have proven as reliable as we had hoped. Both on our own bikes and on most customers’ machines, they simply do their job. Mark and I installed ours four years ago, and then forgot about them. They still spin as smoothly as they did on the day we installed them.

Out of several thousand bottom brackets sold, we’ve had fewer than a dozen warranty returns. Some were due to grit getting trapped in the outer seals. The seals did their job, and the contamination never reached the bearings, but the grit could be felt when turning the bottom bracket spindles by hand. While this isn’t a defect, we replaced the units for new ones.

There were three fluke failures, with the most bizarre coming from the rider who overhauled his bike, reassembled it, and the next morning, he found both cranks lying on the ground next to the bike. The spindle had broken on both sides! Since this was an ISIS “Mountain” bottom bracket, we replaced it with the “Freeride” version, which has a smaller hole in the spindle, and thus much stronger spindle. Considering the huge loads a bottom bracket undergoes, this rate of warranty returns is extremely small. It confirms that the confidence we placed in these bottom brackets has not been misplaced. We look forward to the next five years of selling and riding with these bottom brackets.

SKF bottom brackets are available with JIS and ISO tapers, as well as for ISIS cranks. They come in BSC, Italian and French threading. Click here for more information.

Last weekend was the first Bicycle Quarterly “Un-Meeting”. The weather was perfect, about 25-30 riders showed up, and everybody had a great time. Aside from handing out copies of route maps, I was just another participant and was able to enjoy the meeting like everybody else. It was nice to see familiar faces and meet new people.

Most riders were from Washington State, but two had come from much further. George Retseck (on the left) came all the way from Pennsylvania. Many know George as the illustrator of the old Bridgestone catalogues. He has been doing some wonderful work for Bicycle Quarterly, too. Another rider came all the way from New York City!

The riding was wonderful. Instead of splitting up into groups, almost all of us decided to do the “intermediate” ride. We re-grouped a few times, and it seems that everybody enjoyed the riding and the company.

We had lunch at the historic lodge in Mount Rainier National Park, and then most of us climbed to Paradise.

That night, we congregated around a campfire. You can barely see the stars in the photo above. In real life, they were truly amazing. Sunday morning greeted us with more beautiful weather, and we set off for home.

We hope you are inspired to take up the idea and organize your own “Un-Meeting”. All it takes is figure out a few rides, make route sheets, set a date, and show up!

Photo credit: Andrew Squirrel (campfire).

I recently thought about my favorite books. There are many, and they span a wide range of topics, from Saint Exupéry’s The Little Prince to The Art of the Motorcycle. Here are six of my favorite cycling books, in no particular order. This is not a “recommended reading” list; it’s a personal list of books that have inspired me. In any case, many of these books are difficult to find or written in French or Japanese.

From Repack to Rwanda was a gift from Jacquie Phelan. It’s a catalogue for an exhibit by the SFO Museum at the San Francisco International Airport. From Repack to Rwanda chronicles the development of the mountain bike and shows great studio photos of dozens of pioneering machines. It starts with the Schwinn Klunkers, then the first Breezers and Ritcheys, Cunninghams, the 1981 Specialized Stumpjumper, as well as wonderful machines like the Ibis Bow-Tie with its pivot-less Sweet Spot suspension. It’s by far the best book on the subject, and the fact that it was given to me by a mountain bike pioneer makes it all the more special. Thank you, Jacquie!

Bernard Déon’s Paris-Brest Et Retour really turned me on to the history of French randonneurs and their wonderful machines. I met Déon at the finish of my first PBP in 1999 and ordered the book shortly thereafter. The book’s reports from the early races and later randonneur events were fascinating, but I was equally impressed by the bikes. I realized that if riders like Roger Baumann had completed PBP in 50 hours through rain and wind in 1956 on René Herses, then the bikes must have been very good, and not mere show-pieces, as many assumed at the time.

I became determined to learn more about this event and these bikes. In a big way, this book was at the start of Bicycle Quarterly, Compass Bicycles and even my own randonneuring. Unfortunately, this book was printed only in a small run, so it’s almost impossible to find. And Déon’s style requires greater-than-average proficiency in French.

The Japanese have been excited about French cyclotouring bikes much longer than I have even been alive. They have published many wonderful books on the subject. My favorite is this gorgeous tome about Toei, the famous builders from Tokyo. Unfortunately, I cannot read the Japanese text, but the photos alone make this a favorite. It shows in great detail how Toei’s style developed over the years, until it reached close to perfection in recent decades. This book still is in print, and we may be able to import it and offer it in the Bicycle Quarterly Bookstore.

Simon Burney’s Cyclo-Cross is a great how-to guide for aspiring ‘cross racers. It was strongly recommended by a friend in the 1990s, who was the Master’s Women national champion. I tried to absorb every line of it, and if I had any success in cyclocross, it was thanks to Burney’s clear advice. Mine is the first edition, with Graham Watson’s action shots that add to the appeal of this excellent little book.

My copy of Paul Fournel’s Need for the Bike doesn’t have a jacket, so there is no photo here. Originally given to me by its English translator (and Bicycle Quarterly reader) Allan Stoekl, I greatly enjoyed this little book. Fournel is a philosopher, who writes about why we ride. On every page, I smiled and nodded my head. For example, Fournel writes about a spring on a descent. He’s never seen it, but he knows it’s there because he feels the cool air as he rides past it. This sustains him for miles afterward.

I lent my copy to a friend who was very ill and never got it back. I finally managed to track down a hardcover copy from a library sale. Need for the Bike is the only book on this list that is currently available in the U.S. (paperback).

Routes, Risques, Rencontres translates to “Roads, Risks, Encounters”. Its author, Lily Serguéiew, was an artist who decided to ride from Paris to Saigon in 1938, on her aluminum Caminargent bike. She took her time, learning the language in every country she traversed, drawing, and meeting the local people. Her adventures are both breathtaking and sweet.

In the former category is her trip through the desert of Turkey, despite being denied a visa, which led to her being chased by the police for several days. The sweet moments included being invited to participate in a wedding in Greece. Her trip ended prematurely when World War II started while she was in Aleppo (Syria). She returned to France, where her book was published in 1943. If you read French – the language is less complex than in Déon’s book above – I recommend trying to find a copy.

The final book here is Hilary Stone’s Ease with Elegance. This story of Thanet Cycles, the makers of the famous Silverlight machines, lives up to its name. Different from so much “cycling history”, it’s a well-researched yet engaging read. The “guv’nor” (Les Cassell) must have been quite a character! It’s a truly charming book that had me dream of a Thanet for years. I got my book directly from the author, Hilary Stone, and I believe he has some copies left.

What are your favorite cycling books?

Most tire manufacturers agree that supple sidewalls and a thin tread make a tire fast, but the role of the tread pattern remains poorly understood. Most modern tires have either a completely smooth tread (slicks) or a coarse tread pattern similar to car tires. Many high-performance tires are smooth with just a few large sipes. None of these tread patterns are optimized.

Car tires have tread mostly to prevent hydroplaning. With their wide, square profile, a layer of water can form between tire and road surface. The tread pattern forms channels so the water can be pushed out of the tire/road interface.

Bicycle tires do not hydroplane. Their contact patch is too small and too round for that. This means that car-inspired tread patterns are not necessary on bicycle tires. Does this mean that no tread pattern at all – a slick tire – is best? Any tread pattern reduces the amount of rubber on the road surface… In the lab, it does work that way: Slick tires grip best on smooth steel drums.

Real roads are not as smooth as steel drums. An optimized tire tread interlocks with the irregularities of the road surface to provide more grip than the pure friction between asphalt and rubber. This is especially noticeable in wet conditions, when the coefficient of friction is reduced by half, yet you can corner with about 70-80% of the speed you use on dry roads. (Unless the road surface is greasy…)

The ideal tire tread has as many interlocking points with the road surface as possible. The “file tread” found on many classic racing tires does this. The ribs are angled so they don’t deflect under the loads of cornering or braking.

Why do race cars use slick tires, and not a file tread? The reason is simple: It would be abraded the first time the car accelerates. However, bicycle tires don’t wear significantly on their shoulders – the part that touches the ground when you corner hard – so we can use a tread pattern that is optimized for grip without worrying about wear.

Each Compass tires has three distinct tread patterns, each designed for a specific purpose.

• Center: Fine ribs serve as wear indicators. When the lines disappear, the tire is about half-worn. (The tread of our narrower tires is not wide enough for ribs, so small dots are used instead.)
• Shoulders: When the bike leans over as you corner, the tire rolls on it shoulders. A chevron or “fine file” tread pattern optimized grip.
• Edges: This part never touches the road (unless you crash). They serve only to protect the casing from punctures, so they don’t need any tread.

Supple casings make tires faster, but a supple casing is of little use when it’s covered by thick tread rubber. The fastest tire would have just a minimal layer of tread rubber, and many “event” tires are made that way. Unfortunately, that means that they don’t have much rubber to wear down until they are too thin to use. At Compass Bicycles, we call these tires “pre-worn”.

Compass tires have a slightly thicker tread in the center. A little more material there doubles or even triples the life of your tire, while adding minimal weight and resistance. (On our widest 650B x 42 mm tire, the added tread weighs less than 50 grams.) Once you have ridden the tires for a few thousand miles, they’ll be as light as the “event tires”.

On the shoulders and edges, the tread does not wear. So we made it much thinner to keep the tire supple and reduce its weight. The tread extends far enough down the sidewall that the casing is protect when seen from above. Extending the tread further adds little protection, but makes the tire less supple and thus less comfortable and slower.

Another important factor is the tread rubber. This is an area where incredible progress has been made in recent decades. In the past, you could either have good grip or good durability. I used to ride Michelin’s Hi-Lite tires, which gripped well, but rarely lasted even 1000 miles (1600 km).

Compass tires use Panaracer’s best tread rubber, which is amazing. Our tires are among the grippiest you can find, yet I just got an e-mail from a 230-pound rider who got 3786 miles (6093 km) out of a set of our 26 mm-wide Cayuse Pass tires. The wider tires spread the wear over more rubber, so they last significantly longer. (Don’t try to set wear records, but replace your tires once they get thin. The risk of flats, or worse, blowouts, is not worth getting an extra few hundred miles out of a worn tire.)

Tread color is another important consideration. Modern colored treads no longer are the “death traps” they used to be, but especially in wet conditions, the grip of tires with colored treads – including the Grand Bois Hetres we sell – is not quite as good as that of black treads. That is why we offer only black tread.

Click here for more information about Compass tires.

Update 9/25/14: Roadbikerider.com just published a review of the Compass tires. Click here to read it.

When we started Compass Bicycles, we dreamed of a new centerpull brake. We started developing and testing right away, but it has taken a few years for that work is coming to fruition. We just received the first production samples! The new Compass brakes will be in stock in early November.

For a bike with wide tires, centerpull brakes with brazed-on pivots are the best brake option. With pivots on the fork blades, there is little flex compared to a sidepull (or dual pivot) brake that reaches all the way around the tire. And since the pivots are close to the fork crown, they don’t twist like those of cantilever brakes. As a result, centerpull brakes offer more brake power and better modulation than other rim brakes. (The fact that Shimano’s latest rim brakes also use pivots high up on the fork blades shows that we aren’t the only ones who have figured this out.)

Of all the centerpull brakes, the Mafac Raids stand out. Mafac designed them in the 1970s, when they had decades of experience with this type of brake. The relationship between the upper and lower arms is perfect, which means you get lots of brake power, yet the pads don’t have to be set very close to the rims to prevent the brake levers from bottoming out. The brakes work well both with modern aero levers and with traditional levers. (Their cable pull is right in the middle between sidepull and cantilevers.) We tried many other centerpull brakes, but none came close in performance and feel.

During the development of our brakes, we did finite element analyses of various centerpull brake arms. We found that they varied greatly in their stiffness. Once again, the Mafac Raid came out on top. So when it came to decide on the shape and general design of our brakes, we couldn’t improve on the Raids.

We wanted a lightweight brake, so of course we forged the brake arms. Like the Mafac originals, our new brakes use custom hardware throughout – a huge project when you look at how many special bolts, nuts and washers there are on these brakes. (When you design a brake for standard screws that you can buy at hardware stores, you inevitably have to compromise weight and performance.) The hardware is made from chrome-plated steel, which is stronger than stainless steel.

We did improve a few things compared to the original Mafacs:

• We made the arms slightly thicker, to make sure the brakes work with the higher brake forces generated by modern pad compounds. The weight gains are minimal.
• The bushings of the original were cheap plastic and often developed play. Ours are special IGUS bearings that should last a long time.
• The original pad holders were made from stamped aluminum, and the posts could come loose. Ours are cast as a single piece, with integrated posts.
• The mounting bolts of the Mafacs, with their thin heads, also are known to fail when you aren’t careful during tightening. Ours are stronger, with integrated washers based on a René Herse design.
• We improved the finish of the arms and the plating of the screws.
• Our braze-on pivots don’t have the ugly aluminum plates to hold the spring. Instead, there is a ring with the spring hole that the builder brazes onto the post. (The photos still show the Mafac/Dia Compe braze-ons, since ours weren’t ready when the frame was built.)

To go with the brake, we’ll also offer a small rack to support a handlebar bag. The rack is made in Japan from CrMo tubing, so it is very light, yet strong. It’s patterned after the racks René Herse made for his randonneur bikes. The rack requires braze-ons on the fork, so it’s not a retrofit. If you plan to get a new bike, these brakes and rack are a big step forward.

We’ve been testing prototypes for quite a while, and we are excited that the new brakes will be available soon. We’ll also offer the hardware separately, so you can make your old Mafacs as good as new with new bushings, new hardware and new pads.

Bicycle Quarterly‘s Calendar of Classic Bicycles is now available, and we are  thrilled to think of how many of you will use the calendar to plan great outings in the coming year. Let yourself be inspired by the great selection of bikes featured in the coming year: The focus is on road, track and randonneur bikes, but we also included a cyclocross bike and a touring tandem.

Highlights include a superlight René Herse built for the famous Technical Trials, an early 1900s Dursley Pedersen, and a twin-chain bicycle built by Vélocio, the founder of the cyclotouring movement. Fans of racing will delight in Gino Bartali’s bike from the 1948 Tour de France, Tony Rominger’s hour record bike, and the beautiful 1930s Delangle track bike on the cover.

Each bike is presented in beautiful studio photographs, with captions that provide a brief history of each bicycle. In some years, the calendar has sold out within days. Get your copy while they last, and put it to good use to make 2015 an outstanding year!

Click here for more information or to order.