Journey to Rivendell

No, not to the home of Elrond Halfelven. I refer instead to a spiritual journey, a holy pilgrimage to Rivendell Bicycle Works. It went like this:

My Trek 620's handlebars were too low. Always had been. I raised them as far as they would go, then I experimented with clamp-on aero bars sticking straight up. Bizarre, but not uncomfortable. But just odd enough that it didn't seem right. And shifting! Getting from full upright on the aero bars all the way down to the downtube shifters was either a multi-step process of walking my way down the bars, or just very frightening as I rode with one hand way up high as I groped around with the other one for the shifter.

So I thought bar-end shifters would be just the ticket. I got me a pair of Shimanos on ebay and went to install them, only to discover that my Trek did not have brazed-on bosses for the shifters on the down tube, which was necessary to fasten the bar-end shifters' cable stops. What to do?

Thanks to the magic of the internet, when I entered "clamp-on cable stops" I was taken to Rivendell's web site, and there they were: clamp on cable stops, to be used to retrofit a bike to bar-end shifters. (Rivendell was the only place that had them.) Turns out, Elrond . . . er, Grant Peterson is a big believer in bar-end shifters. He's an even bigger believer in high handlebars. (Not chopper bars, not "hybrid" bars, mind you, and certainly not clamp-on aero bars sticking straight up; just high enough drop bars.) Furthermore, he's a big believer in fenders. But of course! Who isn't? Other than everybody. And Grant believes in riding without toeclips. That one was tougher for me to accept, but on my way to becoming a true disciple, I gave it a try. Liked it. And he believes in riding in more normal clothes and shoes. Sandals, even. Tried it, liked it. And baskets. Like 'em.

So one thing led to another: After the bar-end shifters, I had to try a nice long Nitto stem. (Which still didn't quite do the job. So I went to Harris Cyclery and got a stem raiser--an abomination, surely, but effective.) After the Nitto stem, I needed to try some better pedals for my sneakers. Then fenders. Then a Brooks B. 17 saddle. Then some MUSA biking shorts. Then a fabric reflector to put in my wheel. Then a set of moustache handlebars. And a set of Albatross bars for my commuting bike. And MUSA long pants. I guess I'm just getting one of everything. I haven't bought any beeswax yet, but I will.

All of this, of course, is simply a stopgap for the ultimate solution: A Rivendell bike of my own. Luckily, they're so expensive that I haven't been really tempted. (Not "too expensive", mind you, as in "unfairly priced". No. Just too expensive for an impulse purchase, thank God.)

But really, the problem has not been solved: The stem raiser + stem sticks up about 10 inches above the headset (very odd), and the stem extension inevitably loosens, so eventually the handlebars no longer turn the bike. Not ideal. I really do need a bigger bike. A bigger . . . Rivendell A Homer Hilsen!

Oh, and my Trek has 27" wheels, so I am stuck with 27 x 1-1/4" tires, which is fine for paved roads, but not ideal on the sandy dirt roads and gravel rail-trails I sometimes find myself on. Because of the cantilever brakes, retrofitting it to 700c wheels is not a no-brainer.

So it would be nice to have a large enough bike, one that can take 700c tires, in all their various widths.

In any case, the Rivendell catalog is my new favorite reading. Part retail document, part bicycle manifesto, part religious tract (the religion of Biking By Grant), it warrants careful study.

Plus, I need to decide between the cloth and cork handlebar tape for my m-bars. And there's that beautiful one-speed Quickbeam. . . .