Bret Van Horn Dot Org

For those of you who have been playing along (which I’m thinking is less than 1), you may remember that I was working on building up a Surly Cross Check frame during the late Summer. I thought that I had posted some completed bike photos, however, as I looked through my articles today, I now see I somehow neglected to do so. So what’s a guy to do? I’ll tell you. No, really.

Today I pulled the bike outside during a dry spell and snapped some photos (see below). First thing you’ll notice is the bar tape. It’s orange (copper, actually) and shiny. If you’re like me, shiny things distract you easily. This makes riding the bike a challenge. Next thing you might notice, if you know anything about bikes, is that this bike is running a mishmash of used components. To recap, someone made me a really good deal on the setup from a bike he was selling. We basically stripped the bike down of his mishmash of used parts and I put the mishmash of parts on my frame. It made things much more affordable than buying new and also got me a working bike much faster. I like that—instant gratification and all.

The parts are nothing to sneeze at for a hobbyist type like me who wanted a general, all-purpose bike. It’s running Campy Veloce shifters/brake levers, Campy Veloce rear derailleur, Shimano 105 front derailleur, Shimano Ultegra cranks, beaten up Selle Italia leather saddle, wheels with Alex rims and Campy hubs, some old-ass Onza Canti brakes and then a few things I supplied (namely the Shimano clipless SPD pedals, Cross-top brake levers, fenders, bike computer, headset, YAWYD top cap and aforementioned F.U.B.A.R. copper bar tape). And that, my dear reader, is why I call this bike Frankenbike.

The most surprising thing? It all works.

I built up just about all of the bike myself, with the exception of the wheels (already built when I got them) and the cable routing. For the cable routing, I had Camas Bikes bail me out. I just wasn’t equipped with the proper tools and experience to do that one well. I must confess, that after riding it for a little while, I also had Camas Bikes do a brake adjustment for me, which made a world of difference. Great service there, I tell you.

So, yeah. Here it is. I love this bike because it’s not pink and orange and teal with dayglo yellow accents like so many modern road bikes. I like it because it’s kinda punk rock. I like it because I can ride off-road without as much fear of flatting out or losing my traction. I like it because I was able to build it up in such a way that it fits me really well and is always a joy to ride. I hope you enjoy it too.

I admit it, I’ve been feeling guilty. That poor, poor Bianchi has been hanging in the garage, neglected in favor of my Surly Cross Check, which has been bringing me much enjoyment. That’s going to change this weekend, however, as I’ve finally got a day with no other major commitments, which means it’s time to soak the frame in an oxalic acid solution. Oxalic acid is essentially deck cleaner. One can purchase it off the shelf at their local paint store. The solution is a fairly diluted one of oxalic acid and water. From what I’ve read, I can expect it to soak for a day or two, with some scrubbing at the rusty spots here and there. Once it’s done soaking (i.e., rust is gone), I’ll drop in a box of baking soda to neutralize the acid and let it soak for awhile like that. I’m thinking I can use our hot tub testing strips to determine when the pH levels are pretty flat. Then I’ll rinse it off, blow it out with compressed air and treat the inside with framesaver. Pretty excited, as once that’s done, it’s time to rebuild!

Now, what to do about the soaking container? I’d read that people often use those cheap hard plastic kiddie pools, about $10 at the local variety store. But it’s middle of Winter and nobody is selling wading pools right now, besides the fact that I don’t like the idea of wasting plastic like that. Then, I thought, if I bought some plastic sheeting (at least not as much plastic as a kiddie pool) and built a wood frame, I could like the frame with the plastic and soak it. We have a ton of scrap lumber in the backyard, so that’s pretty doable. But, let’s face it, I don’t want to spend my day building a frame; I want to get this thing soaking now! I did a last-hope Google search for a solution and the second link I clicked on gave me this image:

Brilliant! It’s recyclable, easy to do and is the perfect size. Now I’m going to head down to my LBS and see what I can scavenge there. I’ll take lots of photos and report back the results when it’s all said and done.

Tonight, one of my all-time favorite bands reunited for a one-off performance on the Jimmy Fallon show. Not only did this performance allow me to forget I was wide awake at 2 in the morning with an antagonizing cold, but it reminded me of what music used to be like. Back in the old days.

There. I said it: back in the old days.

I suppose this makes me an official old dude, but truth be told, seeing Jawbox live at La Luna in Portland some 12 years ago still remains one of the top five live shows I’ve ever seen. Seeing them on Fallon tonight simply reminded me of just how amazing a live band can be when it has a unique energy, purpose and passion. Jawbox had all three in spades.

I’d by lying if I said that this doesn’t make me want to start a band and play shows again—but then I remember the thing that most likely keeps Jawbox from turning this one-off reunion into a more lasting effort: life. They have families and lives and other adult commitments now. Just like with me, gone are the days of practicing for hours on end, three or four times a week. Gone are the days of packing up and touring the country in a van and spending hours in a studio recording take after take after take to get it just right. But, mostly, gone are the days of really amazing indie rock bands. I can’t remember the last time I saw a band own a live performance like this. Granted, I don’t seem to get out to shows much at all any more—there’s that damn life thing rearing its ugly head again—but based on the music I hear coming out these days, I can’t imagine anyone bringing it quite like Jawbox could and did tonight.

So, with that, I want to thank you, Jawbox (and surprisingly, I also want to thank Jimmy Fallon for booking them), for reminding me what true indie rock is all about—and for allowing me to relive the glory days one more time. As I come to the frustrating realization that this is a part of my life that is gone and may never come back quite at the level I’d like it to, I can always relish the vicarious last hurrah of these videos as though Jawbox were my own band. And maybe that’s just enough for me.

With that, I encourage you to enjoy all three of the videos below. Gratuitously. This is what indie rock was like in the old days, and I’m not embarrassed to say that.

Somehow, and I’m not quite sure how, my eight-year-old son, Dylan, decided he wanted to ride in a Kiddie Kross race. I tried not to pressure him, just suggested it. Really. I made sure he was aware of the risks, the trials and tribulations of cross racing, the veritable behemoth of obstacles that lie ahead of him. He still wanted to ride. Then, I pulled out the big guns. I told him to do it for him, not for me. I told him I wouldn’t be disappointed if he decided not to ride.

He still wanted to.

I’d be lying if I told you there wasn’t a small tear of pride forming in my left eye, so I won’t pretend that there wasn’t. At any rate, last Sunday we got his bike ready, dressed him up in some bike/rain/mud friendly attire and ventured out to the Portland International Raceway for Race #7 of the Cross Crusade 2009 Series. Shannon and Stella came along and we also met my friend Jeff, his daughter Esme and even saw my coworker Nathan there. Truth be told, I think I was actually more nervous than Dylan was.

I’ve been watching ‘cross racing from a distance for some time now, admiring its curves, leering at its muddy slopes and run-ups, dreaming of leaping over barriers with the speed and grace of a unicorn on steroids. I even built up a ‘cross bike (but use it as more of an all-purpose ride, really). You know, the stuff fantasies are made of. However, I’ve had to face up to the fact that I need to be in much better shape before I can tackle such a challenge. As a surrogate for my ill-fated desires, I’ve been living vicariously by watching cross races when I can, reading about cross racing, following cross racers on Twitter—generally being the wallflower. So yeah, when Dylan took an interest, it was a moment of prideful synchronicity between father and son. And you know what? He rocked. My 8-year old son inspired the hell out of me.

As we arrived at the race, it was clear this one was going to be different. I’d been to race #1 at Alpenrose, which was fun, but at this one, which also was home to this year’s SSCXWC, there was more excitement in the air. The SSCXWC racers trolling the grounds in their costumes, more sponsor tents, more action—it was like Disneyland for a bike nerd.

We found Jeff and Esme as soon as we entered the gates and he helped me find the registration booth. After waiting in line and filling out a waiver, Dylan was assigned his number and we were ready to go. As I waited at the starting line with Dylan, surrounded by kids of all ages—some of them on push bikes, some on trikes, others with training wheels—it became clear to me that this was going to be a fun event for Dylan. I explained to him what he was going to face. I told him if he falls, to get back up and keep riding if he’s not hurt. If he’s hurt, to get off the track and wait for me. And I said I’d try to keep up with him on foot as much as I could, but would probably have to drop out and try to catch him at various points (a plan that later backfired on me).

Once they split the kids into long course versus short course, the race was on. Dylan started to ride and I swear, not more than a couple hundred feet, he left me in the dust. He was gone. I quickly changed my plan and tried to plot where I was going to see him next. Spying a set of barriers, I decided to camp out there and wait for him, as I saw a couple other kids hitting it. So I waited. And I waited some more. And then I started to wait nervously. And he still didn’t show up. Nathan strolled up and we chatted a bit, trying to figure out where Dylan might be and at that point, I began worrying that he’d taken a spill and was sitting off to the side of the course crying for help, surrounded by indifferent strangers. I began visually scouring the course for him and couldn’t seem to find the throng of kids on their bikes. Where had he gone? And what course, exactly, were they riding?

After some wandering, I discovered the finish line and camped out there with Nathan for a bit. I saw all kinds of kids come through—little tiny ones who were surely slower than Dylan, even. I became more anxious and even more sure that he was caught in a bear trap somewhere, crying for mercy. I began walking away from the finish line, looking for him in the distance, and as I rounded the corner, I saw him. He wasn’t hurt. He wasn’t crying. He was preparing to come down the last hill of the race; a respectable hill, covered in a thick, viscous mud. He took the hill like an old pro and suddenly, all of my concerns were gone. Almost. I began watching his face as he came closer, looking for signs of tears or fear or frustration. All I saw was pure concentration. As he rounded the corner to pass me, I began yelling to him, “Hey Dylan! Dylan!” He looked up, realizing someone was yelling his name. “You’re almost there! Go! Go! Go!”

He suddenly perked up, raised his head into the air, put on a look of sheer determination as he began putting the proverbial pedals to the metal. He knew he had conquered the course and he was a new kid. He did it all on his own.

I ran down to the finish line to catch up with him, where Shannon, Stella, Jeff, Esme and Nathan were. He was getting his picture taken by a proud mama and was beaming with pride. The post race followup revealed that he took on the big hill of barriers, but some bystanders gave him a hand getting over them. He also had to ride through a mud puddle of gigantic proportions and took one spill along the way—he had the mud all over himself to prove it. When asked if he wants to to it again, the response was a very enthusiastic, “Yes!”

After that, we watched part of the regular Single Speed race, got some lunch, then watched the Women’s race, which was highly thrilling due to the rainstorm that hit and the incredibly generous amount of mud—not to mention the portland drum corps lending their talents to the soundtrack. Unfortunately, we couldn’t stay for the Men’s A Masters race or the SSCXWC. The kids reached their limit of rain and mud and demanded we go home. It was okay, as I saw what I really came there to see. I left feeling satisfied, but wanting more. Truly a perfect day at the cross races, rain and all. Even more, it, and Dylan, have me inspired to get into shape and try a beginner race next year.

We may be at Barton this weekend so Dylan can ride in the Kiddie Kross race there, since it’s the last of the Cross Crusade series. If you’re there, I’ll be the bearded dad with the beaming look of pride on his face.

One more thing, I have to say how impressed I am by the ‘cross community. It really seems like everyone respects and helps one another. I was honestly a little teary-eyed when I saw a guy help a young lady racing in the kiddie kross race get over a barrier and then a group of people cheer her on at full volume as she struggled to get through some extra thick mud. Awesome.

Last weekend I took my kids to the Cross Crusade series races at the Alpenrose Dairy Velodrome. It was the first time at a cross race for all of us, but we had a good time. Tons of people were there, but everything (aside from the parking) seemed to be really well-organized. We only had a chance to catch the last half of the Men’s Clydesdales and the Masters Category C 35+ races.

I really wanted to stay for the kiddie cross race (if not for my kids to see it) and also the pro races later. Alas, my son had to be at a friend’s birthday party and all the waiting in between the two races we saw was quickly wearing away at my kids’ patience levels.Thankfully, I was able to buy them some cowbells so they could cheer on the racers.

It’s really quite impressive what these cross racers do—even when in great shape, it just looks like grueling, torturous work. It also looks like lots of fun.

Hoping to get out to the SSCXWC race at PIR in November.

Bianchi

The Bianchi has been in somewhat of a holding pattern as of late. Once I got the headset and bottom bracket removed, it became clear that the frame needs some attention. So I took some time off to think over my next move.

In the meantime, I did some shopping and managed to pick up some odds and ends, one of which is a Campy Record front derailleur from 1960, which appears to be of the proper vintage to me. Ordered it from France and it actually arrived here in three days. Another item I purchased was a tin of Brooks Proofide, which has allowed me to bring the original Brooks saddle for the Bianchi mostly back from the dead.

Another purchase consisted of two small tubs of Oxalic Acid, which I’ll use to soak the frame and remove all of the rust while preserving the paint and decals. I’m a little hung up on what to do for a soaking tub, but I think I’m going to build a wooden frame out of some 2×6 planks I have lying around, then line it with a couple layers of 3 mil plastic secured by cinder blocks. Hoping to do that this weekend, since it’s probably going to be the last warm weekend of the year. Once that’s done and I can do some touchup and preserve the decals, it’ll be time to finish cleaning all the parts and building it back up.

I still need a period rear derailleur and one of the downtube shifters appears to be seized up and bent (not sure if its repairable). It’s getting closer though—just in time for the rainy, cold weather of a Northwest winter.

Cross Check

The Cross Check is scarily close to completion. I ended up getting a great deal on used parts from an acquaintance, which basically included a lot of  “thrown in” goodies—enough to build the bike up and make it ride-worthy. The only items I was left needing were headset, pedals and some odds and ends. Got really lucky. While I wanted to get all new, super nice stuff, I quickly came to the realization that I’d rather get up and riding on a pretty good setup than wait another 6–12 months for a “perfect” setup. This way, I can get my bike on, but also selectively upgrade parts as I want/need to.

So what did I get? Well, it’s definitely going to be a Frankenbike—I can assure you of that. Here’s what I’ll be sporting:

• Campy Veloce Rear Derailleur
• Campy Veloce Brake Levers/Shifters
• Shimano 105 Front Derailleur
• Shimano Ultegra Cranks and Chainrings
• Shimano Cartridge BB
• Bontrager Drop Bars
• No-Name Cross Brake Lever (rear only)
• Old Onza Cantilever Brakes (these could either be really cool or a pain in the ass)
• Beaten up old Selle Italia saddle
• Cannondale seat post
• Alex R390 Rims
• Campy Mirage Rear hub
• Campy unknown group front hub
• Tires and tubes
• Even more odds and ends
• All cables pre-attached

Really, it’s kind of like Bike Building for Dummies here, but I’m not one to complain! I’m sure you’re probably wondering what particular brand of hell I’m going to encounter as I try to make all this stuff work together, but it all actually came off the same bike and apparently worked on that. Keeping my fingers crossed, I tell you! The frame is currently at Camas Bike and Sport, where they are in the process of fitting it with a headset. As for pedals, I’m going to use the very old Specialized SPD pedals that were on the Bianchi for now, but plan to eventually get platform/SPD combos or Egg Beaters.

Can’t wait to get this built up and go riding more… Of course, once I get it together, again, it will be just in time for the rain. Of course, now I’m plotting ways to make the woods by my house into a cross-racing training course…

Not much to report recently. Been a busy transition for the kids going back to school, soccer season starting up and a general mad rush to take advantage of the nice weather before it’s surreptitiously replaced by water-bearing clouds for the next nine months. I do have a few quick bullet points, however:

On Thursday evening, I dropped the Bianchi off to David Feldman of Feldman’s Bicycle Repair, right out here in Vancouver, WA. David is a member of the Classic Rendezvous list and is probably the only vintage-schooled bike mechanic in the Vancouver area. As it happened, he saw my post asking some advice on the CR list and responded, noting that he has the coveted and nearly impossible to find VAR tool needed for removing the headset on my Bianchi. I decided to have him take off  and service the headset and bottom bracket. Both of these items are ones I didn’t want to mess with and I felt they would be better off in the hands of a professional. Depending on how bad the rust is on the inside of the BB shell, we’ll see where I decide to go in regards to conservation versus restoration.

I also finally pulled the trigger on ordering a Cross Check frame from Camas Bikes, in black. I’m going to make that my other Winter project, ordering parts as I have money and building it up as much as I dare to with my own two hands. For the stuff I’m too squeamish or ill-equipped to do myself, I’ll seek the assistance of Camas Bikes’ mechanical staff. The process of shopping for and selecting parts is daunting, at best. I’ll probably be bugging the Camas Bikes folks—and various two-wheel-inclined friends—a lot as I make my way through that project. This’ll be my go anywhere, do anything, brave any weather bike. The Bianchi will be reserved for those special occasions and dry, sunny days.

That’s it for now — waiting on stuff at the moment. More updates as soon as I have them.

Quick update tonight: Took a little time to remove the cranks, which came off pretty easily and look to be in great condition. Bottom bracket looks more and more sad the more I unearth it, however. More rust keeps appearing and it’s making some awfully suspicious grinding sounds. I tried to remove it, but the cheap spanner wrench and pin spanner that came with my basic bike kit are both crap. So I need to buy some nice ones, as the BB seems to be somewhat rusted in place. Sprayed it down with WD40 and will let that soak in for awhile.

Since the BB delay had me feeling somewhat disappointed and with some extra time and energy on my hands, I decided to get out my trusty heat gun and take a stab at removing one of the barber pole reflective decals that were on the bike. These are not original and were reportedly added on by the original owner.

The heat gun got through one of the stickers on the fork in about a half hour. It will be slow going to remove the rest of them, not to mention the concern of the displaced heat damaging some of the decals on the down tube, where another one of these decals lives. I may have to take a different approach with that one. Anyhow, beneath the decal was hiding the original appearance of the paint job, untouched by dirt and grease, undamaged from UV rays. Wow. It looks amazing… if only the entire bike had that sheen. Now, when I clean the frame, I will have something to compare my cleaning job against.

Also, I have a new feature today: sound clips! I recorded the BB crank and the headset rotating with my iPhone and you can hear just how awful these sound:

headset.mp3 bottombracket.mp3
Not sure when the next update will come, as I am pretty busy for the next week or so. That, and I need to acquire a couple more tools. If nothing else, I might remove more of the barber pole stickers. Can’t wait to get this frame cleaned up!

I blogged about disassembling the Bianchi over the weekend and finding not only a cocoon in the brake lever, but also a wasp nest inside of the bars, which had been plugged for a number of years. Last night, as I was polishing some of the chrome, I noticed on the top bar, very faintly, some faded hand-lettering near the seat seat tube lug. I took some photos on my Nikon in RAW format, then imported to Photoshop in an attempt to enhance the lettering more.

After some twiddling, I’ve decided that the name on top is that of Sam Knutson, who was a well-known bike racer and mechanic in the Portland area many years ago, and who also happens to have been the original owner of the bike. Beneath his name are the initials “R.C.W.” or “B.C.W.,” followed by what I believe is “Portland.” I’m guessing this may be from the second owner, from whom my dad bought the bike. I don’t know his name, but will try to see if my dad can confirm those initials.

It’s amazing to me the amount of history that’s stored within this little hunk of metal that has lasted so many years and it makes me want to repaint this thing even less, knowing that such small, almost invisible details like these would be lost forever.

With my DIY bike stand completed and a couple hours of free time on my hands this morning, I donned my best grease outfit and braved the garage to begin the disassembly of the vintage bike project. I got most everything stripped off the bike and sorted into ziploc bags, with the exception of the headset, forks, cranks and bottom bracket. I decided to save those for another day, as I have a feeling they’ll take a little while, what with it being my first time assaulting a bottom bracket and headset in such a manner.

Things went pretty smoothly. Really, the only difficult part was removing the original Campagnolo cable brackets from the top tube. The screws were so badly rusted that any attempt to loosen them with a screwdriver simply stripped out the flathead slot. In the end, I didn’t want to part with these original brackets, so I rigged up some shop rags on either side, then used a hacksaw to cut about 2/3 of the way through the screws so I could snap them off with some needle nose pliers, which actually worked quite well. I’ll need to scare up some new screws, but the brackets are intact and just need some rust removed.

I had a couple surprises along the way, namely the empty cocoon that was hiding in the front brake lever housing (seriously!) and the partial wasp nest that had been hiding in the handlebars (which I noticed are the original Ambrosio bars after removing the bar tape) for who knows how many decades (the bar ends have been plugged since I can remember).

Speaking of brake levers, I can’t tell if the brake levers are original. I seem to remember reading that this vintage of Bianchi had Universal brakes and levers. The brakes themselves are stamped as Universal, but I cannot see any stamps or company name on the brake levers.

I’m more concerned about the overall condition of the frame now, however. The rust is worse than expected in some places, especially on the bottom bracket… lots of flaking paint and rust patches. I’m torn as to whether I can really conserve this frame. It may have to be sandblasted and repainted.

Which is an even bigger bummer as I noticed a couple decal remnants that I hadn’t seen before. They’re very faint, but one of them almost looks like it could be from the Olympics, with a guy on a bike holding a torch. This has me wondering if this bike was built for the 1964 Olympics, in which Italy won the gold for individual road race. I’d appreciate any knowledge anyone has about what is left of these extra decals.

Later in the day, I stopped by Camas Bikes to order some Frame Saver, as I did find some rust on the seat tube. It was easily wiped off, but I still want to be safe and preserve this frame as much as I can. While I was there, I talked to Ed about ordering a Surly Crosscheck frame and building it up myself. That’s a tempting offer and I may have to go that route after I complete this project.

I also had read about using Aluminum foil with water to rub rust out of the Chrome. Tried that for a few minutes and was astonished at how well it worked. But the astonishment quickly led to disappointment as I realized how much pitting was hiding under the rust. A sandblasting/re-chroming/re-painting seems more and more likely.

Oh, and as I mentioned in a previous post, the wheels are not original, but are instead Galli and Rigida. I don’t know much about rims, but was told these are decent brands. The front hub is a Mavic, but I don’t remember what the rear hub is.

Mechanically speaking, the bottom bracket and headset sound like sandpaper when I rotate them, so I’m guessing the bearings are shot and will need replacement. This explains why my test ride felt so rough, for sure.

Anyhow, enjoy the photos below. I’m interested in hearing peoples’ opinions about what to do with the frame and the mystery decals. Don’t be afraid to chime in, folks!