A while back I purchased an old Peugeot from a friend.  He had found it at the the local Salvation Army store for $25 or so, but it was just a bit big for him.  So now I have it.

The first thing I did was scrap the old 27″ steel rims, stem shifters, suicide brakes, narrow drop bars, the swaged cranks and the mostly plastic front derailer.  (Yeah, I’m gonna spell it “derailer”, even on a French bike.)  Then I bought a $35 700c rear wheel with a freewheel hub.  Add to that some parts from the stash - Wald North Road bars, 700c front wheel, mtb brake levers, clamp-on down tube shifters, a NOS cheapie triple crank with matching derailer, new cables and chains, a slightly longer rear brake and some fat white-walls.  The bike already had a sidewall generator and lights, but the front was shot.  So I replaced that, too, from the stash.  The factory fenders (remember when bikes used to have those?) and rack are still in pretty good shape.

From Peugeot PH8

We hooked the whole damn thing up to the bike train this morning for a test ride to pre-school.  Peugeot -> Trail-a-Bike -> Wike.  Compared to previous bike train locomotives, this one is flexy.  Like riding a noodle.  The brakes are fine, so long as I don’t need to stop.  There’s also a squeak that’s only present when I’m riding it, so it’s been impossible to troubleshoot.  I don’t think the French had me in mind when they built this one.

I think I’ll keep her.  But maybe she’ll get a Giant Delivery Basket and become the grocery bike.

Because I could not drop the pack,
It ruthlessly dropped me;
It sped uphill at twelve percent.
I heard it holler “whee!”

I slowly pushed my laden bike,
The panniers did sway;
And at the crest I looked upon
The pack so far away.

It topped another hill at speed,
In spandex-clad back sides;
This is the final time, I swear,
I join this damn group ride.

This was, of course, inspired by Because I Could Not Stop My Bike and Other Poems, and is my entry for the LGRAB Summer Games “read a book about cycling” event.  I encourage you to find your own creative ways to butcher a perfectly good poem.

The girls used to ride around in a little trailer from a big box store.  They outgrew it about the time the top really started to come apart, so it’s now my cargo trailer.  I think.  It’s never actually been used to haul anything other than children, but a couple months ago I tore off everything except the chassis, tongue and wheels.  Today was to be her maiden voyage as a cargo trailer, carrying the fence post back home.  Here she is hooked up to the Trucker just before departure.

Weist Hardware (they have cotton twine, but no hemp) is only about 3/4 of a mile taking the long way, so it was a short ride.

Alas, no fence posts.  And the vegetation killer they stock isn’t any better than the stuff I already have.  Poop.  It seems we got all dressed up for nothing.  Here we are ready to go home with our screws, rope and netting in the pannier.

Maybe we’ll get groceries tonight.

Today I’m going to illustrate, with Christie’s trusty Pentax K100D (which won the dirtiest sensor award at GFM, BTW), how to wrap drop bars with cotton tape and then finish them with twine.  Shellacking will be documented later.”Why,” you may ask, “would I want to replace my spongy, springy, comfy fake cork handlebar tape with unpadded cotton twill?”  Because it looks better.  Besides, if you need padding on your handlebars you quite possibly have some bike fit issues.  Raising your bars or moving your saddle back might help with this.  Riding a too-small frame with a long seat post and really low bars for that super-aero tuck is the domain of just-like-Lance roadies.  They probably need padded bar tape.  Here’s a hint:  don’t be a roadie.  Before we begin, we need to round up a few odds and ends.

• Cotton tape
• Twine
• A bicycle (this job is nearly impossible if you don’t have one)
• Coffee, and lots of it
• Some place to work

Let’s get started, shall we?  Yes, let’s.

First, remove that gawd awful eyesore that’s pretending to be bar tape.  Use a knife, scissors, propane torch, whatever.  Just get it off there.

Next, you’ll want to gather your new bits. The cotton tape here is a lovely brown color and comes from the fine folks at Velo Orange.

You’ll need some twine, too. Mine is cotton and comes from the hardware store around the corner. Hippies can order hemp twine from Rivendell.

Try not to gouge your thumb with a tire lever the day before. It hurts and makes the thumb pretty much useless.

Coffee break!

Start the wrap on the bottom of the bar, pull the tape away from the bike, then up and over the top back toward the bike.

If you have bar end shifters like mine, you’ll have to deal with the cable housing in one way or another. The cleanest way to do this is to get new cables and housing and run them along the handlebars up to the stem. I didn’t feel like replacing them just yet, so I made about 6 wraps with the tape going around the bar and the housing. After that, just wrap the bar and let the housing fly loose. You might have to do a little acrobatic tape tucking.

Continue up the bar toward the brake lever and pull back the hood.

Do a figure-8 around the brake lever. This isn’t as tricky as it sounds and you should probably be able to get it looking pretty good after just one or two tries.

Finish wrapping your bar.

It should look like this.

Coffee break!

Now we’ll move on to the twine. I’d like to apologize in advance for the blurry photos. There’s a really good instructable about this, and it’s the method I use. Start by making a loop.

Except do it on the bottom of the bar.

Hold the loop with your finger and start wrapping the twine from the center and work toward the tape. Wrap in the same direction as your tape. The first couple wraps are tricky. Try to get someone to hold the loop for you. But once you’ve gone around a couple times it’s much easier. Keep the twine snug and pull it tight with every revolution.

Overlap enough of the tape so that you can’t see the end and cut the twine, leaving a few inches hanging loose.

Push it through the loop.

Grab the other loose end and give it a tug. It should pull the loop tight and eventually suck the end you just cut underneath the wrapped twine.

Cut off the dangly bits.

Ignore the beer gut.

And you’re done! It should look like this.

Have some coffee and feel free to write if you have any questions. I’ll shellac the bars in a couple days and write about it here.

Um…

Actually, we just went for a bike ride and did a little camping.  There was a penguin, though.  I’m not sure what to make of that.  Doc’s not the lazy type, and got his write-up online first.  Bone’s a little less lazy than yrs trly, and published his next.  Well, you’re reading this, aren’t you?

First, a few words about bike camping in general and the S24O in particular.  Defining “bike camping” isn’t always easy, but I’ll give it a go.  In my mind a bike camping trip is a lot like going for an overnight hiking trip.  Hikers, especially the AT through-hiking types, carry most of what they’ll need in a back pack - tent, sleeping bag, a pad to lay on, clothes, some food and water, maybe some cooking gear, a rain jacket or poncho.  I’m sure you understand.  So bike campers, in our definition, carry everything they need on their bikes.  Attach some racks, get some panniers, fill them up with the stuff you’d take hiking, pick a spot and start riding.  This is implied when I say “bike camping”.  Of course, you could arrange for someone to meet you at the camp site with a sag wagon and all your camping gear, and then ride there on your carbon fiber weight weenie machine.  And I suppose you would be camping and you got there by bike.  But that’s not what we’re talking about here.  The term “bike packing” gets tossed around some, too.  That’s a good term to use, IMHO, but is probably better for off-road bike camping adventures.  Bike camping and “touring” also have some cross-over.  We won’t go into that just now.  The late Ken Kifer wrote an excellent essay on the subject.

The S24O is a specific form of bike camping, in which the participants make their trip last less than 24 hours.  Sub 24-hour overnight.  Pick a spot you can ride to in a few hours, pitch your tent, cook a meal, drink some red wine and Islay, try sleep, listen to the rain and multiple orgasms instead, get up, eat breakfast, break camp and ride home. Grant Peterson of Rivendell Bicycle Works wrote a pretty decent article about the S24O.  Rumor has it that it was his idea to call it an “S24O” in the first place.

This last weekend Doc, Bone and I undertook an S24O from downtown York, PA to Codorus State Park.   Doc was kind enough to drive us to the start and we set off shortly thereafter. Here are Bone and Doc, probably wondering when I’m going to stop fiddling with the camera and get my act together.

From Codorus S24O

My rig at the start.

From Codorus S24O

Looking south toward the Howard Tunnel.

From Codorus S24O

We stopped for lunch at Serenity Station in Seven Valleys. The food’s not bad.

From Codorus S24O

Just before Glen Rock we turned off the rail trail onto a lovely, narrow, traffic-free road. Rolling hills and wonderful scenery.

From Codorus S24O

From Codorus S24O

From Codorus S24O

From Codorus S24O

From Codorus S24O

Just before the State Park it started to rain.  We checked in, found our site and took advantage of a short break in the weather to pitch tents and make dinner.  The rain started again, both barrels, after we turned in.  Fortunately, it stopped just before sunrise and we only got a few sprinkles along our ride home.  I didn’t take any camping pictures that were worth showing, so you’ll have to go read Doc’s or Bone’s account for those.

Doc’s rig just before leaving the park.

From Codorus S24O

Bone’s lovely Trek 520. Note the plastic bag over the Brooks saddle? That’s so he wouldn’t have to ride a wet piece of leather all the way home. I didn’t do this to mine and now I’m trying to figure out how to reshape it.

From Codorus S24O

Hanover Junction.

From Codorus S24O

We stopped at Serenity Station again for lunch and then rode, more or less, straight through to York. I had noticed during our trip south that my comfort level was decreasing rapidly just before we turned off the rail trail. Once we were on the road, and dealing with hills, I was fine. Sunday morning from the park to Glen Rock was a wonderful ride. The discomfort started again almost immediately upon hitting the rail trail. My shoulders wanted to quit about 6 miles before we finished. They still hurt today. So I guess I’ll be tinkering with handlebars and stems again. Oh, joy.

Thanks to Bone and Doc for putting up with me.

The Engineer, Bone and I set out from New Cumberland on a ride that can be described quite accurately with two words, one of which I’m not allowed to say in front of the children.  So we’ll narrow it down to the other one:  brutal.  There are hills between here and there.  Most of those hills are “short and sweet”.  I was beginning to think we were really on a hiking trip and only using the bikes to carry our crap.   But we made it, and no one puked.

Doc was waiting along the road just before the park and rode the last 1/2 mile or so with us to the camp site.  We made camp and made dinner and MissBreeGoLightly joined us via pick-up truck for a rousing bit of Scotch and peanuts.

From Gifforf Pinchot S24O

From Gifforf Pinchot S24O

The temperature dropped quickly once the sun went down and I learned that my new 40F sleeping bag is really only a 40F sleeping bag if I wear warm socks.  Other than that, the kit performed as well as I expected and I almost got a few hours of sleep.

Morning was gorgeous and I snapped this photo of the trucker just as the sun was topping the trees across the lake.

From Gifforf Pinchot S24O

We all tried to warm up a bit with coffee and granola and oatmeal and grits (grits!) and Spam and eggs and Spam and Spam.  Then we broke camp and said goodbye to Doc.

From Gifforf Pinchot S24O

From Gifforf Pinchot S24O

Shortly after mounting up I remembered that I had forgotten to bring any ointment.  Yowser!  We rolled toward home and today’s ride seemed a little easier, almost as if the road decided to cut us a little break.

From Gifforf Pinchot S24O

From Gifforf Pinchot S24O

To celebrate our triumphant return, the Engineer, Bone and I went out for burritos.

A few weeks back I started the C25K running program.  The short version goes like this: go for a walk/run 3 times a week for 9 weeks.  By the end there’s more run than walk and 5k should be doable.  I’m on week 4.  It should be week 5, but I slacked off on week 3.  Then I got that motivation bug.

Last night was the first time in a couple weeks that the Trucker’s been ridden.  We rolled out 10.5 miles of moderate hills with the new lights (which are bright!).  7th Street fell to the king.  Walnut Street was no match for my 20″ low gear.  The kids making out at the top were stunned by the brightness that is a Lumotec IQ Fly N Plus.  The light at the bottom of 12th turned green as if to say, “Thou art truly worthy.”

Then I started week 4 of C25k.  Woo!  I don’t even feel like a truck hit me.  That’s surprising. Week 4 is significantly harder than week 3.  I really expected to be inflexible this morning, especially after both a bike ride and run.

On the bad news front, the rear hub on the Blue Beast is wobbly.  I’m hoping it just needs some adjusting, but I’ve probably cracked the axle.  Of course, this happens right after I switched the Trail-a-Bike hitch over from the Trucker.  (If you’ve ever tried to uninstall/re-install a Trail-a-Bike hitch, you know why that’s a problem, and you can feel free to send me condolence cards.)  UPDATE: The rear hub is shot.  The axle is bent and one of the cone nuts just won’t budge.  I found an old MTB wheel with freewheel in the parts pile, and that’s good enough for the time being.

That’s all for now.  The Megan and I have to go get the Molly.  One last ride on the Beast before I tear into that hub.  I hope we don’t have to walk home.

We’ll be at Gifford Pinchot State Park the afternoon of April 10th at site 116.  So far it’s Bone, Doc and yers truly.  The Engineer and MissBreeGoLightly have expressed some interest, too.  Throw in a few maybes from Facebook and we may very well be over the 5 person limit on the camp site.  In that case we’ll try to reserve another site or two.  If you’d like to tag along, let me know in the comments, or here, if you have a Facebook account.

I set out yesterday to try out the less hilly of the two potential routes from Casa de Sloth to Pinchot.  The first one I plotted was straight over Moore’s Mountain.  Moore’s Mountain is a mile of pure hell, with the easy part at about 13% and the steep part, which is always just before the top, at 19%.  More on Moore’s Mountain later.  The second route adds a mile or so and goes around that damn hill.

View Larger Map

As you can probably see, I’ve put a nav point (or whatever it’s called) right on the top of Beacon Hill.  Beacon Hill is a bit of a climb, but the road is wide and there’s very little traffic.  The alternate is Limekiln Rd., which is shorter, but it’s steep, there’s no shoulder at all and it carries a lot of traffic.  East to west on that little section of Limekiln, IMHO, is not a safe route.  I’d rather walk over Beacon Hill.

Limekiln Rd. from the west end of Beacon Hill to Spangler’s Mill is rolling hills, but nothing too nasty.  The shoulder is narrow or non-existent, but I’ve not had any trouble with traffic along this stretch.  Once we get to Spangler’s Mill, the route gets interesting.  Almost immediately after turning onto Spangler’s Mill, the route turns right onto Schauffnertown Rd. and goes straight freakin’ up.  17 or 18% if you believe the topo.  Fortunately, it’s not too long.  I rode this hill last fall.  I walked it yesterday, which means my fitness level is poop.  The next few miles, until we turn off of Lewisberry and onto School House Ln. is mostly up.  The word “brutal” comes to mind.  I didn’t have to walk anything else, but it wasn’t an easy ride for me.

School House Ln. to the intersection of Moore’s Mountain Rd. and Pinetown and Pinetown and Pinetown Roads is gently rolling and quite scenic.  I made a wrong turn at Moore’s Mountain/Pinetown/Pinetown/Pinetown, climbed up that hill from the unsteep side and didn’t realize my mistake until I was screaming down the other side at Mach 2.8.  While the descent was much fun (I highly recommend it), crossing Siddonsburg at the bottom was disconcerting.  A few minutes later, back at Seitz Rd., I called the wife.  It was time to be at Gifford Pinchot for our picnic and I was only half-way there.  Again.  So whatever happens between the intersection of Moore’s Mountain and Pinetowns is a mystery.  Maybe I’ll try it again next weekend.

I also learned a bit more about my limits.  I’ve bonked before, but didn’t hit the wall yesterday until I was off the bike.  I should have eaten something at about the half-way point.  Next time…

Feel free to take a crack at designing a better route.  It may be flatter going around the north end of Moore’s Mountain.  I dunno, but I’m open to suggestions.

“Daddy?  Do you remember those M&M’s?”

“No.”

“Daddy, they’re in the yellow bag up there.”  She points to the cupboard.

“Oh.  Yeah, I remember those.”

“Can I have some?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t need any more sugar today.”

“Oh.”  She pauses for a moment or two.  “Can I have a Twizzler?”

Later on…

“Daddy?  Do you remember those crackers with honey in them?”

“Do you mean graham crackers?”

“Yeah!”

“Would you like a graham cracker, Molly?”

“Can I have two?”