Spoke Tools

The first phase of wheelbuilding can use a screwdriver-like tool to tighten the spoke nipples, and this is much faster than the later phase using a spoke tool. The classic screwdriver tool looks like a regular screwdriver bent into a right-angle Z. I have no doubt that a seasoned builder could use such a tool with admirable efficiency, but as an occasional builder I haven't tried to find one.
Instead, I ground down a standard hex screwdriver bit, as shown. I used the edge of the grinding wheel to leave a pin in the center, which fits into the spoke hole in the center of the nipple. This works far better than a standard screwdriver bit because it keeps the bit centered and allows the bit to hold the nipple fairly well. (This shape is borrowed from the classic tool.)
I like this bit a lot. Its small size makes it a nice handle for inserting the nip and engaging the spoke, then a finger-roll or two engage enough threads to move on to the next. I can't think of a tool design that would make this process faster.
Later, after all spokes are installed, I use the bit to perform initial tensioning, until I need more torque than fingertips can provide. Then I put the bit into a small ratchet driver and work until that too becomes slow. Then the rim strip goes on for safety and I switch to the standard spoke tool which works on the flats exposed next to the spoke (and visible in a finished wheel).

Spoke Lengths

It finally happened: I laced a wheel with the wrong length spokes. I noticed just after lacing, before any time spent tightening, but still a costly mistake in time and money.
The main culprit is the database in the on-line calculator tool I found. I believe it thinks an M756 rear hub is centerlock, but it has the large flanges that come with an ISO rotor mount. I share the blame, though, because I didn't check the dimensions before I bought the spokes.
In the good old days, say around 2000, there was a functioning on-line community in rec.tech.bicycles which put together accurate and complete tools for this as contributions to the world. These days profit-seeking seems to have destroyed those tools and replaced them with hit-and-miss or deliberately incomplete tools.

I bought the first set of spokes from an LBS which cuts and threads spokes to length. While this ensures the length is correct, the cut ends are very sharp and the threads less clean than the factory rolled ones. They're also more expensive, perhaps due to the labor of cutting.
At the second shop, I asked them to check my revised calculations. This is the most modern shop I deal with, in the sense that I get good response to email. Their calculation was even more wrong than my original set. This time I think the rim size was incorrect, though the lookup matched the sticker on the rim itself! I got a look at the calculation process at this shop, too. For the last decade or so, I've used spreadsheets or web calculators, and electronic databases of dimensions for the hubs and rims. Here there was a programmable Casio calculator taped and zip-tied to the inside cover of a binder holding pages of dimensions. (I suspect much of these are out-of-date by now.)

In the end I re-learned the old saw, measure twice, cut once.

Mystery of Shimano Tall Flanges

I really like Shimano hubs. They've served me well for over a decade, through all sorts of bad weather and other abuse. I have looked to them for my relatively recent interest in mountain biking (MTB).

(Well, that Nexus internal hub wasn't very reliable, but the freehubs are all I'm interested in these days, and they've all been very good.)

I built up Bumblebee, my current MTB, using their XTR hubs. I like everything about these except one thing, their low flanges. The XTR flanges look like those of a road hub, which is nice for a lightweight hub. However, I think it's bad for a reliable MTB wheel, because both front and back disc-braked MTB wheels run much higher peak torques than (rim-braked) road wheels ever do. For example, the chain drives at least 50% higher torque in an MTB than a road rear wheel: just compare the low gear ratios. And my vote for highest torque in any bike wheel is a disc front.

Torque is conveyed through the spoke web by differential tension: the pull side spoke tension increases and the push side decreases, both to exactly balance the torque between hub and rim. The taller the flange, the smaller the tension changes because they operate over a larger lever. (The most extreme case of this would be if someone built a fully radial rear wheel. With no lever arm at all, the hub would be pulled apart by any significant torque.) In other words, a low-flange MTB hub requires a very good wheel build, and is still more fragile than a less carefully built wheel with a high-flange hub.

The frustrating thing about the XTR hub flanges is that I have an XT rear hub with tall flanges. It's lower-end, weighing almost twice as much as the XTR. But why wouldn't Shimano offer a tall-flange XTR when there is one in XT?

First I noticed that Shimano's centerlock hubs use low flanges while their ISO 6-bolt hubs have high flanges. I tried to turn this into a demographics situation - maybe ISO users are thought to be poor wheel builders?

It hit me the other day riding in: the receptacles for the 6 ISO bolts would cover the spoke holes of a low-flange hub, making the wheel very difficult to build! So ISO hubs need high flanges for the builder's sake, while centerlock ones do not.

My current plan is to use the XTR hubs and just keep after the wheel tension. I think this will work for me - though I wouldn't recommend it for someone doing big drops or very fast descents. And avoid thin spokes! The DT Revolutions I sprinkled in the first build proved to be a real problem here, and I've since replaced them all in the rear wheel.

Zipper Insertion

While most of my favorite homemade or modified bike projects come off the milling machine, many are done with a sewing machine instead. My fabric projects fall mostly into two categories, adding reflective tape to road outerwear or improving cool/cold weather clothing. This project is in the latter camp.

I've long enjoyed Nike's running shirts as road undershirts or mountain bike shirts. They make a long-sleeve running shirt that I really like, featuring excellent fabric and visibility. The bright orange is great for hunting season, and it has sleeve reflectors that I'd like to see on my road clothes. The only drawback is that I heat up a lot while riding, and Nike's design has no zipper at all. My favorite road jerseys have full zippers so they can be opened completely when needed.

I decided to add a full zipper to this shirt. I have limited sewing experience and am self-taught since a short class in 7th grade. This project was somewhat tricky because the Nike fabric is a very stretchy synthetic, while basic sewing technique assumes rigid materials that can be ironed, such as cotton. I've been developing some techniques for this over the years, and I have access to a rather good sewing machine for difficult fabrics.

Finding the zipper proved harder than I'd expected. A coarse, jacket-style zipper was easy to find, and that's what I used in the end. I searched the internet for a finer one, more like the excellent one used on Assos jerseys. I couldn't find anything like this, except for a hint that there are more options available for mass-production style work. Maybe another time I'll explore buying continuous zipper by the foot and assembling its termination components myself.

I'm happy with the results. For this project I wanted a wide final stitch to prevent fraying and distribute forces from the stretchy fabric, but the stitch itself doesn't need to stretch because the zipper tape can't. I found a stitch on the sewing machine that I'd never used before, and I really like both its look and technical properties in this application.Like most successful projects, I learned a bit and had fun doing it, then wound up with a piece of equipment that will help me for a long time. All these benefits are the justification for the time spent doing the work.

D2R2 2010

The Deerfield Dirt Road Randonee, or D2R2, is a challenging bike ride in western Mass, riding up into Vermont. Last year was my first time riding it, a 100km (65 mi) ride which was more demanding of my abilities and equipment than any other. It was so much fun that I wanted to try a longer version this year. My goal, if all went very well, was to ride the longer, 180km route to the lunch stop shared by the two routes, then switch to the 100km route for the way home, making a medium-sized route of 93 mi.

Training did not go perfectly, of course, and as the ride approached on the calendar, I wrestled with whether to swap my early start time for the later 100km start. All of my friends from last year's ride either stayed with the 100km route or had to skip it altogether, so the longer ride would also be solo. But a pair of dirt road prep rides went better than I'd expected, and I decided to go for it.

My 4am alarm was unnecessary after I naturally woke at 3:15, and this was a lucky stroke because it took longer than I'd planned to get out the door. Drove 4:25-6:20, watching the sun rise and the temperature drop to 50 degrees F. After weeks of heat, I hadn't imagined it could be cold, so I didn't have any extra layers. After registering, I found a pair of bags the OJ cups had come in, and fashioned them into ersatz arm warmers.

"Sea smoke" floated on the river next to the parking area as I started riding at 6:53. The earliest start was 6, but the organizers wanted untimed folks like me to wait until at least 6:30. I hoped to start about then, so was behind schedule already. But I was determined to ride at a natural pace, to avoid burning out early, so I pushed time out of mind and enjoyed the scenery and some conversation with other riders. One of the main draws of this event is the alternating river and hilltop views of the beautiful rural landscape of the Connecticut River watershed.


The first water stop was at mile 21, where I learned I only needed two (XL) bottles and emptied the third. I also learned that I didn't need the helmet light I was wearing, when two of the staff asked whether I rode to the start before dawn. Later in the ride my neck muscles would also tell me I shouldn't have loaded that weight onto my helmet. A rider next to me commented that he'd already had 3 flats, and was out of tubes and into the patch kit. This was just partway through the first quarter of the ride, designated a warm up!



Randonees don't have marked turns, unlike most big road rides, so cue sheets are very important, and a GPS can be quite helpful. We came to a place where the cue sheet said, "CAUTION: wicked downhill next mile - steep, rutted, narrow, stony". This sounded good to me as I've always enjoyed descending, and this ride feels like a nearly constant climb. After a bit of dirt road descending, a fork was marked with one of the few D2R2 signs of the day. I'd have gone left without it, but saw the arrow, hugged the adverse camber and kept the momentum going right. A little levelling was followed by one of the longest, loosest, fastest descents of the whole day. I thought, 'I'm glad the riders have thinned out so I don't need to worry about other riders here!' as I hung on. I saw bike tracks in the dirt, a reassuring sign, but noted that the path was wavy, as if a roadie were skidding the brakes downhill. I again thanked my cyclocross tires for their wonderful grip. The cue sheet and GPS were beyond illegible with the handlebar's vibration. It crossed my mind that it would be nice to check them, but there weren't any real options since that D2R2 sign, so no chance of error until I passed a little road that had forked right. I stopped slowly as I was still on the loose slope, and the GPS read "U turn when possible". Oh no. I struggled back up the hill to the little fork, and the GPS didn't want me to go there either. Oh no. I had to go all the way back to the D2R2 sign, finding I'd misread the direction of the arrow. I'd backtracked 1.7 miles, including the first walking of the day. When I rode, I wobbled a bit for traction - just like the track I'd seen on the way down! This was not the right way to prepare for the big hill coming soon on the cue sheet.

"15% climb next 3/4 mile", read the cue. I'd been bracing for this all morning, and sure enough, it was a dirt road slog. The next cue included "super steep", which I'd pictured describing the descent which would naturally follow a climb. Nope, it was more dirt climbing, and here I did some more short walks.



A little after the next waterstop lay the most fearsome cue, "27% grade", a dirt climb. The Wednesday before, some friends and I practiced on a local gravel trail and succeeded climbing some very short climbs that were steeper than this, so I had confidence that I could ride this at least for a bit. But the reality today was a tall climb, perhaps 200ft, and a surface of loose dry sand and rounded pebbles. Almost as soon as the slope hit, my rear tire slipped right, tipping me left. I was unable to clip out of the pedals while falling over, so I landed on my elbow and started rolling backward, the bike coming over me. To cut through the frustration, I noted that this was the mirror image of a fall I took Wednesday on a steeper climb, and now both elbows were symmetrically scuffed. After walking around 100ft, the slope seemed to drop just a bit, so I tried again and immediately fell the same way, to the right, re-opening Wednesday's scab. The rest of the climb was a walk, during which I promised myself I'd get rid of these pedals. There were bike tire tracks in the sand, though I can't figure out how anyone could ride it. There were also shoe prints and one hoof print, perhaps from a donkey, the proper vehicle for this road.

At a tiny water stop I started fretting about lunch. It was 1pm, and lunch was to close at 2:30, with 12 miles between. My average speed indicated it would take an hour, but the ride had so many surprises so far that I couldn't bank on that. Mechanical troubles seemed to be plaguing the other riders too, and I couldn't be immune. If this were a novel, you might expect the devil to appear about now, and that's just what happened, though it wasn't clear until afterward. A few turns later, I saw a rider ahead of me take a left, then a pair went right. I stopped and checked cue sheet and GPS and decided the left was correct, so I caught up with the pair and said I thought we should go back and go the other way. The guy in front said, 'this is the quick way to lunch'. What a relief to find a way to stop sweating over missing it! And I'd seen that left led to yet another big dirt climb. But I shook myself out of it and turned back, rejoining the route. I hadn't given up the real route yet! And anyway, I didn't want to have that guy be my only guide to lunch. The more I thought about it the less I appreciated his invitation to join his shortcut.


One gravel descent here gave me what I think of as a "pinch kiss". (If there's a real name for this, please let me know.) It's related to the infamous pinch flat, in which the tire is squished hard against the metal rim by a rock or similar bump, cutting through the inner tube and causing a flat which is difficult to adequately patch. Lots of riders got pinch flats on this ride. A pinch kiss is similar but doesn't cut all the way through the tube, so it's more a warning than a problem. It makes a loud, bad sound like a cartoon kiss. Also, I believe a "kiss cut" is an industrial term for cutting partway through something, like cutting the shape of a sticker without cutting its backing paper.

I arrived at lunch at 2, and there was still plenty of good food. Like last year, the stop was at a covered bridge in Vermont, next to a small waterfall. This is a peaceful spot to eat and rest a little before the long ride back.


Navigation for the return was a bit different, except for the cue sheets. Amy had loaded the GPS with a turn-by-turn route for the first half, investing significant effort converting Delorme data for my Garmin unit. While this was great for many turns, in others the GPS indicated turns that it fabricated, probably due to differences in map details between the companies. Garmin didn't recognize an apparent logging track as a road? I can't say I'm too shocked about that. Anyway, I had no such route for the return. Last year's track, just a colored line on the map, should have helped, but it turned out that track was not loaded, so the GPS did little after lunch. On the other hand, I remembered much of it, so didn't need as much help.

At the end of the 100km ride, there was an optional 5mi flat loop called the "corn maze". (This was a mandatory part of the 180k route.) I don't think it was even available last year. I wanted to ride it, and felt pretty good when I reached it, so I stopped for a quick drink and bite of the sandwich I'd been carrying, and went into it. This was just a ride on the tractor path through a corn field, a fun cool-down after the hills. In the quiet, though, I could hear the grinding of the chain and gears loaded with the day's road grit. I finished at 5:40, getting home before 9:30.



It was a great ride, the biggest of my life. At 8:36 moving time for 103mi (2.4mi vertical), it was about 1.5 times the work of a road century. I recommend it! There are other routes available, down to 40mi flat.