New bike.

"And then you just press this button with your thumb to go toward the harder gears," said Peter, the owner of Barney's Bicycle, said as he demonstrated how to use the integrated brake/shifters.

I'd love to say that with that simple, bike jargon-free explanation, he sealed the deal with me on the stunning new Fuji Sportif 1.7. That's almost exactly what I say to my son when riding with him and trying to get him in the right gear. Make it harder. Make it easier. I have no idea what high gear or low gear or what numbers they are.

But by then, I had already made up my mind in two ways--I was leaving that bike shop with a bike that day, and Barney's had sealed the deal months ago.

Barney's operates a new bike shop at Park Avenue and Coes Street, and keeps open its old shop for used sales and repair (It's called "Chandler Bike" now). Chandler Bike is a revelation. The used bikes, I have come to realize, are ridiculously overpriced. But they have an impressive array of do-dads and oddball parts in all different sizes for even the most obscure projects. They are friendly and courteous, and humor people like me who have the most harebrained ideas with the most godforsaken bikes.

The good service extends to the new store, as well. They have no qualms about selling you a few bearings or cable crimps or bar end plugs. It's a nice, airy place to be.

So once my wife gave me the go-ahead, I knew my first-ever new bike experience at a bike shop would be Barney's. I don't have much experience with other bike shops, but I enjoy the easy-going feel to the place. It lacks any hit of the elitism that infects so much of the cycling world.

The Fuji was the cheapest road bike available at Barney's. I wasn't necessarily approaching it that way, but it was certainly a factor. I wish they had more options in my price range, but I guess that was the compromise I made when I decided I wanted to buy the bike from a particular shop. That said, it appeared to be a good deal on that particular bike.

It sports Shimano Tourney-level shifting and braking components. That's the lowest teir of Shimano's offerings, surely scoffed at by the carbon fiber types. But it's all relative. The Peugeot is a friction-shifting 10-speed mountain bike made in France in the early 1980s. The light years of progress I made just by moving up to modern braking and indexed "brifter" shifting give me no real reference point from which to judge. I just know it's better.

And that's how I wanted it, in many ways. When I bought the Peugeot two years ago, I wanted a used, basically functioning bike to re-learn cycling on. Some part of me wanted to "learn the old ways" so I got a full appreciation of how a bike worked and functioned.

Friction made me a better rider, I think. It requires much more organization and planning about what gear you want to be in at any point in time. It's a deliberate, gradual mechanical system that relies a lot on feel. Does it feel like the chain is solidly in gear? Do I need to trim it back a little? Is it worth shifting right now?

I absolutely love the new system. Shifts are smooth and crisp, and it's an easy system to learn on. It becomes intuitive after one ride, and I'm impressed with how the front derailleur action, typically the toughest part of shifting, functions. If I had to guess the difference between the Tourney set I have and something like Ultegra or Dura-Ace, it's probably something to do with more crispness, maybe faster shifts, or maybe a more robust feel. But who knows? Maybe I'll find out someday.

What I really love about the Fuji is the frame. It's beautiful to look at, and that blue paint was a major draw. Bikes seem to be either black or white or silver these days; I specifically wanted a splash of color. I am going to have to ride this bike every day; I want it to be pleasant to look at. 

From what I've read about the Fuji Sportif, the all-aluminum frame is the same geometry as the high-end carbon Fuji Gran Fondo. It leans toward the comfort end of the road bike spectrum, and I can confirm it's a spectacularly comfortable bike.

It's a big bike, at 59 cm, but I wanted it that way. It feels like I can really stretch out while riding it, although on the hoods I perhaps stretch a little too much. I may try a slightly shorter stem (the XL Sportif employs a 110 mm stem, which is pretty long), which I think will make it perfect.

It rides quiet and smooth and light, and again, it's all relative. But I can't seem to get enough of my new blue Fuji. I took it up over Aiport Hill the other day, which two years ago I would never have even attempted. I never felt that nervousness that I was going to stop or fall over or go backwards. The bike just pulls, and I think I finally realized what bike dorks talk about when they say "acceleration."


Worcester has famously bad roads, and I cringed a few times going over some unavoidable ruts. The Fuji has an aluminum fork, which is fine, but I immediately realized why the bike dork community always recommends chrome-moly or carbon forks. They just soak up the bumps better.

It's a great bike, but then again, I think the conventional wisdom these days is that most new bikes made today are great bikes. Of course it's more than that. This awesome little bike is a dream realized. Something I visualized happening. It represents my full immersion into something I've become quite passionate about. I love riding my bike, and I love bicycles. I love what they've done for me, physically and mentally, and I love what they represent about life, society, and good, healthy living. There's nothing like the sights, sounds, smells, and physicality of riding a bike. It has helped me learn so much more about my city and my area, and so much more about myself.

That's a whole lot of emotion and philosophy packed into a Chinese-made 23-pound amalgam of aluminum and rubber and steel. But it doesn't matter so much when you're out on the road. Nothing really matters as much, really. It's volume gets lowered as you concentrate on the road ahead. When's the next turn? Will I have to take the lane? What's the hill situation over there? Can I get a tailwind, or is Mother Nature messing with me? Do people really throw this much glass out the window? How much pot are they smoking in that car? Those are the only questions that matter out there. Just you and the bike. Communicating.

Project Univega mixte

It's done. With new brake pads and some final cleaning and waxing, it finally reached the point in the project when there truly wasn't anything left to do.

On a shakedown ride earlier in the week, the bike performed flawlessly. It is a very, very nicely-riding bicycle. If I ever come across another Univega project, I will scoop it up.

It's heavy, no doubt, but it doesn't mess with what works, I guess is how I would describe it. The solid Suntour drivetrain still shifts clean and crisp, and the Dia-Compe center-pull brake calipers are surprisingly strong. 

Yes, it has turkey levers, but like a minivan, you can't deny their utility. 

The saddle received the full tear-down/rebuild treatment, and is quite comfortable, at least over short distances, and the new black wrap can be swapped out for something more adventurous at any time. 

The 27 by 1 1/4 Araya rims were a pain to clean, but it was worth the elbow grease, and some patience was rewarded after a few days of brake pad truing.

I reused the chain, mostly to get some experience doing it. My bike book gave a good tip not to fully push out the chain roller, so you can push it back in. It worked, and while I probably should have done another round of degreasing before reinstalling, it functions just fine. 

What a fun project. The big takeaways from this one would probably be that it's amazing what a thorough scrubbing will do; that Barkeeper's Friend does amazing work removing rust from chrome; and that it's worth trying to save an old chain. 

If I keep it, I'm thinking fenders and rack and yellow bar tape. If I sell it, I expect I'll at least make my money back. Either way, the process in this case was its own reward.

Yeah, I'm just gonna go ride a bike

Headstone at a local cemetery.

The weather apps seemed a bit bleak this week, but so far it has been reasonably warm and pleasant. Each day this week it has been a quick and easy decision. Guilt about not getting enough done around the house has been building, however, and the weather may not end up being the determining factor for the rest of the week.

Don't be jealous of my sweatshirt "kit." 

For today, however, the riding was splendid, and I took a rare spin down Granite Street to add a few miles. The hills are nicely spaced so momentum just pushes you up the next hill. Before and after the junkyards, it's a nicely wooded, quiet ride, and a right on Cliff Street spits you out across from the bike path parking lot.

The Pug is bullet proof, always a trusty ride.

Earlier in the week a brief cross-border raid into Millbury took me over or under three major highways for the day: I-290, I-90, and Route 146. It's nice to be able to make route adjustments on the fly. I wanted to go up Upland Street to get home with slightly less hassle than having to back under 290, but Upland is a mini-beast of a few long, kinda steep hills.

Rarely do I venture over the bridge.

A quick left onto Spofford Road cuts those hills in half. It's such a neat area over there; my iPhone ride-bys don't do the neighborhood justice. There are these huge vegetative areas that still haven't been developed, and they're just beautiful. It's surrounded by these big hills, so it reminds me if Central America or some mountainous land. Really cool.

Upland.

The true revelation, however, was after the ride when I whipped up some zucchini fritters. I envisioned a sort of burger, and it worked in that sense, but they would be just as good with some sauce on the side or maybe some caramelized onions. 

Fresh chives from the unkillable chive plant in the backyard.

Only looking at the picture do I now realize how huge that piece of salmon was.

And here's a gratuitous grilled salmon shot from the weekend. I would eat a salmon jumping out of the river, grizzly bear-style, if I could. It is my most beloved fish. It needs little to be spectacular, which is probably my biggest folly. I simply don't do too much to it. 

Wonderful stretch

Southbridge Street, tailwind.

Recent weeks have blessed me with good riding and good eating. Today, for example, the temperature soared into the 70s, reminding me about why I love spring so much. Riding in the winter has its own set of enjoyments and rewards, but there's nothing like simply lacing up the sneakers, throwing on the helmet, and hitting the road.

Grass and dandelions.

It's views like this all over the place as lush grass still waits for its first cut. Everything is just so lush and colorful this time of year. The trees and their various buds, flowers popping everywhere. The things you have the time to notice on a bike.

Pasta with vegetables and basil-garlic oil.

Recent months have revealed a bit of a food rut on my part. Not anything as desparate as losing my love for cooking, but just a general un-adventurousness, if that's a word (it's not). My wife shaking up her eating habits has in turn forced me to stretch a bit, and I've been inspired to work on little things like the basil/garlic oil I whipped up for this pasta dish. Pasta dishes like this fill my plate several days a week, but the quick, easy herb oil makes it interesting and new and fresh all over again.

Ball bearings, herded back into the headset.

New and fresh and all over again has been the wonderful experience so far with the Univega mixte. It's just about wrapped up, and it went back together nicely. Look for details in an upcoming post. Here I was repacking the headset bearings. They seemed in good shape if a little dirty, so I cleaned them the best I could with household kitchen cleaning being my chemical exposure limit. The bungee cord holding the fork on was a godsend, and while it took three days to pick up all the loose ball bearings that scurried all over the floor upon disassembly.

Riding in warm weather, learning the contours of a fascinating old bike, anticipating the new road bike some time soon, and enjoying time with the family. In such an uncertain, anxiety-ridden world, there is much to be happy about. The fundamentals are sound.

Project Univega

Last weekend my wife warned that some rain was forecast for the week. I had been looking for a project bike beyond my endless loop of 24-inch mountain bikes, so I figured it might be a good week to keep an eye out for something cheap to work on.

Later that day I stopped by the Salvation Army on my way to the grocery store. I stop in semi-regularly to see if any hidden jewels show up, and while I'm not sure it's a jewel, I've been rather impressed with the $8 Univega Mixte I spied that rainy Saturday.

For $8, the fact that every part was there and functioning on a basic level was impressive. From what my cursory internet searching has turned up, my best guess (since there are some stickers/decals missing) is that it's a late 70s "Super Ten" model. It seems the Super Ten was Univega's entry-level assortment of good but basic components with a sort of heavy hi-ten frame.

One thing that seems to be said often of Univegas was that they were good bikes for the money in their day, and I'd have to agree with that, even though it's in a million pieces in my basement right now. The Suntour/SR drivetrain is honest and of good quality.

The Dia-Compe brakes seem like they might get a little finicky, but they are in great condition.

I love the saddle; there's some fraying near the bottom on one side, but it seems to be in pretty good condition.

There's something appealing about mixtes. It's way too small for me, but I guess mixtes were never intended to be thought of strictly as women's bikes. It just seems to have turned out that way. But I love that continuous bisected line from head tube to dropouts--it's like a bike with foul lines. The lugs are elegant and have nice paintwork surounding them.

My plan is to simply put it back together again. I'm repacking the bearings in the bottom bracket and the headset. The Shimano hubs laced to Araya steel rims seem perfect, so I'm not messing with them just yet. If I was going all out for a bike for my wife or something (she did raise an eyebrow of interest, so who knows), I'd switch out the rims, maybe go to an indexed setup in the rear, and replace the turkey levers in front and move to an alloy drop bar. Brooks saddle? Porteur-style bars? The sky's the limit, I guess.

But my limit is limited here. I spent $8, and I shelled out an additional $38 for new tires, bar tape, and cables (I still need tubes). So for around $60 invested, I should be able to turn a profit no problem.

In the meantime, the Univega is pretty much mission accomplished keeping me busy. It has been a joy to work on.

Stopping

I'll admit it--I like Strava. I like looking at a map of where I just went. I get jazzed when one of those little trophies pops up, although the other day the air partially went out of my balloon when I realized that my "second best time" going south to north on Mill Street was just that--I almost beat my own personal best. I was 67th or somewhere near there when stacked up against other cyclists.

I figure I'm pretty safe right now with my free-level membership, and I obviously don't take it too seriously. But I have noticed I have to tell myself every so often that it's not a race. I don't need to aim for a target speed or calorie burn or longest ride.

Today I rode down to the Blackstone River Bike Path, and it's as wonderful as it always is. The rains have swollen the mighty river, and as I approached, the thought crossed my mind that someone has probably Strava'd their time on the path, and I pedaled harder thinking I might rate. 

It was silly and harmless, but I had to tell myself to stop and get off the bike. It's beautiful, and it's not 20 degrees like it was in March. 

It's okay to stop. Stop and take a drink. A look. A bite to eat. It's like golf and rally racing--you're only competing with yourself.