Thoughts on Bar-End Shifters

When I was getting my first new roadbike in spring 2010, I had it built up with bar-end shifters. This decision was arrived at via a process of elimination. I had ridden a couple of vintage roadbikes before with very limited success and found the classic downtube shifters too challenging. I had also tried to test ride some modern roadbikes and found their combination brake/shifter levers ("brifters") to be so uncomfortable that I had trouble using the brakes. Other cyclists I knew recommended bar-ends - an older style that had grown popular again in recent years. Rivendell - the manufacturer of the road frame I was having built up - was also strongly recommending this setup. And so that is what I went with. 

A bar-end shifter is exactly what it sounds like: a gear-changing lever installed at the end of the handlebar. There are different styles. Some are longer, others are shorter. Some are friction, others are indexed. I have tried a few now on different bikes, and my favourite remains what I went with originally: Silver friction shifters. The length and shape make them easier for me to operate than other models; I get more leverage. I find the friction mode easy and intuitive to use, and I like the control it gives me. If a gear is imperfectly adjusted, I can simply move it a tiny bit manually.  I can also shift multiple gears at a time quite easily. 

The shorter, indexable Shimano bar-ends are another popular choice for this style of shifters. The Co-Habitant uses them on his bikes and loves them. But personally I find them more effortful and less comfortable to use that the Silvers. 

Over the time I rode with bar-end shifters, I was more or less fine with them. I was able to switch gears and I was able to install the brake levers I liked, since they were independent from the shifters. But I did find two things about the shifters less than ideal. One was that they required me to dramatically change my hand position(s) on the bars in order to switch gears. I got better and quicker at this over time, but nonetheless I was never "in love" with the process. The other issue was that when stopped or off the bike the shifters would often poke me and give me bruises. But both of these points seemed relatively minor at the time, and I was not considering a different lever setup.

My switch to combination levers was a product of accidental discovery. I was discussing test riding a Seven roadbike with the staff of the Ride Studio Cafe, and all their demo models were set up with modern brifter-type levers. I told them about my inability to brake using brifters when I attempted to ride other modern roadbikes. Rob Vandermark asked which specific makes and models I'd tried. It had not occurred to me until then that this could make a real difference. I'd tried quite a few, all of them by Shimano and SRAM. Rob looked at the Tektro short reach brake levers on my own bike, and suggested I try Campagnolo; apparently the shape is very similar. And so it was. I test rode a demo bike with Campagnolo ergo shifters and it was as if my brain became integrated with them immediately. I resisted making a rash decision to make the switch on my own bike, but a couple of months later I finally did switch and have not looked back.

So what do I think of bar-end shifters in retrospect... Pretty much the same thing as before. I have no desire to "bash" them or to proclaim the superiority of brifters; it is really a matter of individual preference. I still like bar-ends and I am fine riding a roadbike set up with them. I especially love the friction mode. If given a choice of models, my favourites are the Silvers; they feel great in my hands. I imagine that bar-ends are well suited for those who prefer their shifters to be separate from their brake levers, who wish to have the option of friction shifting, and who have no problems moving their hands to the edges of the drops swiftly and efficiently when they need to change gears. I am sure there are other contexts in which bar-ends are the preferred choice, and those who have things to add on the subject are welcome to chime in. To me, bar-ends will always be associated with my first road cycling experiences, and I retain a fondness for them despite having switched to another system. 

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'Tis the Season!

Today was the first time we've ridden our roadbikes since December, and it was a wonderful 27 mile ride. The weather was not as nice as we'd hoped (very windy and the temperature 10°F lower than the forecast promised), but at least the snow was gone. I wore two layers of wool, thin gloves and a hat. Other than my nose running, all was good. Using the trainer over the winter certainly paid off, and I did not feel as out of shape as I'd anticipated. The trainer has also taught me to use lower gearing and spin faster. While it's been somewhat annoying to "reprogram" my style of cycling, I think it's ultimately better for me in the long run.

I took the Bianchi on the start-of-the-season ride, because I was excited to finally test it for real - going as fast as I wanted without worrying about ice patches. I am now more impressed than ever with its handling. It is faster than my other bikes - which may very well be from the more leaned forward position it places me in, but the difference is noticeable. It is also more comfortable than any other roadbike I've ridden with the exception of my Rivendell. The positioning feels just right, and the ride is cushy over bumps. Since the roads are completely messed up from the snow right now, I got to test this aspect of ride quality more than I would have liked, and it really was great. My problem with roadbikes that feel harsh over pot holes is twofold: First, it's painful. And second, it's difficult to control the bike if it bounces, especially with narrow tires. So when a bike is able to "swallow" pot holes and road bumps, it makes me feel a great deal safer and more confident. Not sure whether it's the tubing, the geometry, or the wheels of the Bianchi that are responsible for the great ride quality (it's not the tires, because at least 2 other bikes fitted with identical tires felt worse), but whatever it is, I'm glad.

Though my ideal standover height would be 2cm lower, I don't feel that the top tube clearance on the 54cm (center-to-center) frame is a problem. There is a gray cable that runs along the top of the toptube, and that contacts my inseam. But the toptube itself does not - there is probably 5mm of room there.

One benefit to riding this larger frame, is that there is no toe overlap. Were I to fit this bicycle with fenders, there would be - but as is, my foot clears the front wheel completely even during the most extreme turns possible (I've experimented). This is another aspect of the bike that makes me feel confident on it. I can handle toe-overlap on bikes that I know have it, but when given a choice I prefer no overlap.

The Co-Habitant was back on his Motobecane as well, and we were well matched speed-wise with me on the Bianchi. And I know what you're thinking: That poor man, riding the same beat up old roadbike while I luxuriate in choice. What can I say - I agree. Believe it or not he has been impossible to convince that he needs a new bike... until now. It is very likely indeed that he will have a new steed this summer, but I will leave the details a mystery for now. In the meanwhile, I'm just glad that both the weather and our work schedules have finally cooperated and we were able to ride together again. Hurray for spring!

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Cycling Indoors: the Kurt Kinetic Trainer

Last month I asked for advice about bicycle trainers, but after reading all the comments decided not to get one after all. It was the promise of horrific boredom that dissuaded me: I didn't want to get a trainer and then end up never using it. But several blizzards and several yards of snow later, I once again found myself climbing the walls and thinking that any way to be on my roadbike would surely do. My birthday is coming up, and so I asked the Co-Habitant to get me a trainer as an early gift - requesting that he do all the obsessive gadget research himself, and just present me with it as soon as possible.

He was suspicious at first. "You want a trainer. For your birthday? Are you sure that's a sufficiently ...romantic gift?"

"It's a fine gift. Totally romantic. Just get it for me, please."

And so, since last week I have been the owner of a Kurt Kinetic Road Machine Fluid Trainer. The 2010 model was on sale at the Wheelworks in Somerville, MA (they had four left as of last week), and the opportunity was ceased. It is lime green and in no way blends in with any normal household decor. It is a good thing we have a "bohemian" apartment where pretty much anything goes, including a bike plugged into a neon contraption in the middle of the bedroom.

To set up the trainer, you have to attach the rear wheel of the bicycle using a special skewer, so that the tire rests firmly against the mechanism which provides resistance. I would describe the set-up process as somewhat tricky: You have to align the wheel just right and tighten everything just so.

As you pedal, the resistance from the trainer is similar to the resistance you feel when cycling on the road. Beyond that, I admit that I have no idea how it works, and am not particularly curious as long as it does the job. Some prefer to put a block or a riser under the front wheel, but I feel fine without it.

To me, using the trainer emulates the cycling experience realistically insofar that I am on an actual bike, and that the sensation of pedaling really does feel like being on the road. What's different, is that the bicycle doesn't lean, as would have been natural on the road, and - oh yes - that I am in my bedroom, staring at a wall and going absolutely nowhere. After the first time I used the trainer, it became clear that I needed visual stimuli - music alone was not sufficient to counteract the mind-numbing effect of looking at nothing.

So I rigged up this "tower" using two wooden chairs (don't worry, they are very stable), which allowed me to place my laptop at eye level.

Thank goodness for Netflix and enormous earphones. The trainer is fairly quiet to begin with (the sound it makes is a sort of low hum - not high pitched or annoying), and if I had a TV rather than a tiny laptop, I don't think earphones would even be necessary. But the nice thing about using them, is that they drown out the sound of the trainer entirely, making it easier to get absorbed in the film and put my legs on autopilot.

It took me a couple of days on the trainer to learn how to pace myself. I guess on the road, there are factors that control my speed - traffic lights, obstacles, turns, and even just fear. With these factors gone, I had to keep forcing myself to slow down, so as not to get exhausted immediately. Watching a movie helps, because my pedaling starts to sync up with the highs and lows of the film - slowing down during the quiet parts and speeding up during the exciting parts. At the moment, I am able to keep going for 40 minutes at a time before needing to stop, but I am hoping to make it an hour by next week.

I don't want to give the impression that the trainer is anything other than what it is - a device that allows you to pedal your own bicycle as it remains stationary. The experience does not even begin to compare to "real" roadcycling, which to me is much more about exploration than about exercise. But if I approach it from the other end, and start with the given of wanting indoor exercise that emulates cycling, this trainer pretty much fits the bill. Having never tried others I can't compare, but the Kurt Kinetic trainer does everything I imagined a trainer doing, and it is quieter than I had hoped.

I think I have to face it that something in me has changed over the past year, and I now feel that my body "needs" strenuous exercise. I never thought that would happen to me, and I don't understand human physiology well enough to know how that works. All I know is, that I've been on a roadbike every day for the past week and I am feeling a little more like myself again. It's indoors, it's stationary and it's not real cycling - but I'll take it.

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Born for the Hills! A Review of the Rivendell Sam Hillborne

[edited to add: Rivendell Bicycle Works was a sponsor of this website in May 2011 - June 2012. This post was written prior to that time.]

I have owned my Rivendell Sam Hillborne ("Graham Greene") for 6 months now, and have ridden it for 1,800 miles. It is time for a review. The short version is: "I love it. I love it so much!" For the long version, read on.

I received a Rivendell Sam Hillborne frame as a holiday gift in December 2009, purchased from Harris Cyclery in West Newton, MA. We were not yet comfortable building up a bike on our own, so the build was done at Harris as well. It took me a few months to save up for the components, and the bicycle was ready in the end of April. Note that Harris Cyclery was not a sponsor at the time, and that everything in relation to this bicycle was a standard purchase.

My choice of build for the Hillborne was informed by test-riding a floor model in my size. Since I had no real experience riding a roadbike at that point, I mostly went with recommended specs. These included a 3x8 drivetrain, Sugino cranks, Nitto Noodle handlebars with Silver bar-end shifters, and a Brooks B17S saddle. My 52cm frame was built for 650B wheels and cantilever brakes.

The three things I specifically chose for this bicycle were handbuilt wheels with dynamo lighting (see details here), Grand Bois Hetre tires (see review here), and Tektro short reach brake levers. The discovery of these brake levers was crucial for me. One thing that had hitherto prevented me from riding bicycles with drop bars, was my inability to squeeze the brake levers - especially from the hoods. I have small hands and I have damaged nerves in my hands. The combination made squeezing this type of lever impossible. When I described the problem to Elton at Harris Cyclery, we went through different brake levers to see whether any existed that I was able to squeeze. The Tektro levers were it and I am extremely happy with them. Elton also showed me some methods of hand and finger placement that work well for me and do not send electric currents through my fingers. I cannot stress enough what a break-through this was in terms of understanding why I was having problems riding with drop bars before.

Over time, I added other personal touches to the bicycle. These include a Carradice saddle bag,

a Nitto M-18 front rack from Renaissance Bicycle (a sponsor), an Ostrich handlebag bag from Velo Orange which I use on long trips,

a twined and shellacked Klean Kanteen water bottle,

and my beloved Power Grips (see here for my initial review of them).

I have also twined and shellacked the kickstand (to prevent it from scraping against the pedal when the bike is parked),

and added a leather Velo Orange chainstay protector. This product is great for preventing the paint on the right chainstay from getting nicked by the chain slapping against it when the bicycle goes over bumps - which began to happen to my Rivendell within the first few rides I went on.

There are a few additional little details that I enjoy, but no one else probably notices - like these green cable endcap crimps,

and the "taupe" zipties (see top right, under the waterbottle) for routing the dynamo lighting that I find to be less noticeable than black ones.

Over the time I have owned him, I feel that Graham has attained an appearance that is distinctly personalised. Looking at him reminds me of the many "firsts" I experienced on this bicycle: from learning to ride with drop bars to going downhill at 30 miles per hour, while cornering, with a full handlebar bag.

These experiences certainly did not happen all at once. After I first brought the complete bicycle home, I had a minor hysterical breakdown when the reality of owning it hit me. What on Earth would I do with such an expensive bike with drop bars? What if I wasn't able to ride it? The bike would end up standing in my livingroom as a beautiful, ridiculous testament to the gap between my imagination and my abilities.

This emotional self-flogging lasted for a couple of days, but then I began to ride the bike. I took it slow and started by setting the handlebars quite high, so that I could get used to the drop bars. The Hillborne has what I would say is a long top tube, and I have a short torso - so the degree of lean this placed me in required some adjustment on my part.

Over the course of the first month I owned the bike, I rode it almost daily and lowered the handlebars weekly - until eventually I was comfortable with them being at the level of the saddle. I would recommend this method to those who find dropbars intimidating.

I love pretty much everything about this bicycle and find it difficult to muster up any words of criticism. It may be worth noting that some dislike the slight upward slope to the top tube on the Hillborne, but I have no problem with it. If I have to find something bad to say, then maybe it's that the paint seems to be a bit delicate - but then I am used to powdercoat, and it's just a fact that liquid paint is easier to nick. I am equally happy with my choice of components - perhaps with the exception of the Shimano Deore rear derailleur, which I have managed to bang up pretty badly in the course of ownership. Next spring, I may replace it with the Shimano XT "Shadow," which seems more immune to abuse. Otherwise, everything is perfect.

I don't know how to describe the ride quality of the Sam Hillborne in technical terms, but in non-technical terms I feel as if I could live on it. Nothing hurts, ever. The bicycle is miraculously cushy over bumps.  There is no "toe overlap" with the front tire when turning. The seat tube angle is just right: relaxed enough to be comfortable without having to shove the saddle back on the rails, but not so relaxed as to stand in the way of "performance." I can keep up with the Co-Habitant just fine on the Hillborne, and he is a fast cyclist. The most challenging ride I have gone on so far has been a very hilly metric century (64 miles), and I felt great afterwards. No weight on my hands, no strain on my neck, no knee pain, just comfy cycling goodness. The bicycle seems equally stable at both high and low speeds. I can go over 20 miles per hour while feeling as if I am going 10 and I can plummet downhill while enjoying the view instead of panicking. It is also fantastic on climbs and seems to carry momentum well.

As I have mentioned at the start, I have now cycled 1,800 miles on this bike - which may be more than I have cycled on all my other bicycles combined. I had never imagined that I would be doing this much cycling, let alone on a roadbike. I know that it is all supposed to be about the cyclist and not about the bicycle, but I honestly do not think I would have come this far in my road cycling skills on a different bike, no way. I would even credit the Sam Hillborne with how well I took the track bike I rode in Vienna and to the Italian racing bike I subsequently built up as a fixed gear. Once I learned the skills on the Rivendell, I felt comfortable on other types of roadbikes as well - but I would not have been able to learn on them.

While the Sam Hillborne was great for me as a beginner, I am nowhere close to "outgrowing" it. If anything, I feel as if I am slowly growing into it and am only starting to appreciate its full potential. Next summer I am looking forward to doing some more extensive touring and attempting more challenging hills. After all - the bike was born for them.

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Seymour Blueskies

As some have already noticed, I recently acquired one more bicycle that I have not yet written about. It is a vintage Trek roadbike - fast and aggressive, with super-responsive handling. Don't ask how I got the bike; sometimes these things just find you. It was in exactly my size, and came along at a time when I had begun to experiment with more aggressive road cycling. I wanted to try a "real" roadbike without spending more money, and here was my chance.

So please allow me to introduce Seymour Blueskies. He is a Trek 610, built in 1982. The lugged steel frame is made with Reynolds 531 tubing, and cro-moly fork and stays. The frame is 52cm, with 700C wheels. It is an interesting blue-gray colour that Trek called "gunmetal"in its catalogues.

The 610 was a higher-end model, and the previous owner built it up with nice components - though over the years they had become somewhat of a medley.

The wheels were handbuilt using Rigida racing rims with a gunmetal finish, a Campagnolo rear hub, a Suntour XC 9000 front hub, and double butted spokes. The drivetrain is Suntour Sprint 9000, with Suntour downtube shifters. The stem is vintage Nitto and the handlebars are ITM. The bicycle also came with a Brooks Finesse Titanium(!) women's saddle.

I have kept all of the components as they were, except for the brakes and brake levers, which we replaced with new Tektros. We also added cork bar tape, installed SKS fenders and a bottle cage, replaced the original clipless pedals with MKS Touring pedals (with Powergrips), and attached my Zimbale bag and a Crane bell from another bike.

I prefer cloth tape on handlebars, but these bars have a weird, squared-off shape to them with a carved-out channel for cable routing. This can all be felt though cloth tape, making the bars uncomfortable to hold without a layer of cork. They are also a bit too narrow for me, and if the Trek ends up being a keeper I would like to replace them with something like Nitto Noodles, or a vintage equivalent.

The reasoning behind the SKS fenders was initially budget-driven, but I am very happy with this choice. They are quieter and less fussy than Honjos; I hardly even notice them. The Co-Habitant hates SKS fenders, because he thinks they are "ugly". I do not find them "ugly";  just more sporty than Honjos - which was exactly the look I was going for here. Incidentally - even with the fenders, saddlebag and waterbottle, the Trek is the lightest bicycle I own.

After a few weeks of ownership, I have also just replaced the original Michelin 25mm tires with 28mm Panaracer Paselas in white. The Michelins that came with it are supposed to be fantastic, but they felt hard as rocks and made for a very harsh ride. The Paselas, on the other hand, feel as if I am riding on a cloud. 28mm tires are probably the widest this bicycle will fit with fenders, and that is fine with me.

Now, for the ride quality... The vintage Trek handles very differently from the Rivendell Sam Hillborne. The best way I can describe this bike's behaviour, is that it wants to go fast and does not like to go slow. At slow speeds the Trek feels unstable and difficult to maneuver, especially when cornering. It took me a few rides to learn how to handle this without panicking, but eventually I got used to it. By the same token, it becomes amazingly stable and precise at fast speeds: Once I exceed 16mph, it seems to magically "relax" and almost floats above the asphalt. Accelerating is easy - almost too easy! One turn of the pedals, two turns - and before I know it, I am flying.  This is great fun now that I am more or less comfortable on a roadbike, but even a couple of months ago I would not have been able to handle this kind of cycling. When riding the Hillborne, I feel that I am exploring - I can go fast, or I can go slow. Riding the Trek, I feel that I preparing for a race - going slow is not really in the cards.

All other factors remaining equivalent (road and traffic conditions, my energy levels, etc.), the Trek is a faster ride than the Rivendell. I cannot tell how much faster exactly, because conditions are never identical on any two rides - but when the Co-Habitant accompanied me, he said the difference in my speed on the two bikes was noticeable. One explanation for this could be that the Trek's handlebars are set lower, but it could also just be that the bike is designed to be a bit racier. On the flip side of the speed advantage, the Trek is not as comfortable as the Rivendell (which is insanely comfortable) and encourages over-exertion - leaving me feeling far more exhausted after a ride. One curious thing about how I feel on the Trek, is that my hands always hurt at the beginning of a ride - but stop hurting as the ride progresses and I pick up speed. This is surprising, because when something hurts at the start of a ride, it typically only gets worse the longer I cycle - so each time I get on the bike I have to suspend disbelief and remind myself that my hands will stop hurting in a few minutes. And thankfully, they always do. I also find it challenging to hold the drop portions of the bars on the Trek (something I have already mastered on the Rivendell) without losing some control of the bike or at least weaving a bit. I am sure this will feel comfortable eventually, but I am not there yet. Just yesterday, I was finally able to use the downtube shifters for the first time - after having tearfully declared that they were "impossible" time after time on previous rides. Everything takes practice.

When I first got the Trek, I was not at all sure that I would be keeping it. We modified it just enough to make me comfortable, and it would be easy to resell this bike at no loss. I wanted to experience a "real" roadbike without the coddling qualities of the Rivendell, and now I have. So what next? Well, I don't know yet, but I don't really want to let it go. It has been bewildering to discover that I kind of, sort of might actually be good at road cycling, and I would like to see this discovery through. Depending on how much time I have in a day for a ride, I take either the Rivendell (for long rides), the Trek (for medium, but fast paced rides), or the fixed gear Moser (for shorter, intense rides) - and together they are helping me understand my potential.

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