Handlebars, Saddles, and Gurus

In a previous post I told the woeful tale of a Moustache Bar Experiment gone horribly wrong. Much as I wanted to like the Moustache Bar, I couldn't. I put my old drop bar back on. And that's where the last post left off.

But I still had the moustache bar in the garage, and I still liked the idea.

So I put it back on, new cables (again) and all. But this time, I jacked it up probably 5 cm above the saddle, and made the "drops" nearly level. And this time I liked it. It got me upright enough when I wanted to be upright, and by holding on to the hoods way out front I could get fairly aero.

But then I needed to deal with the saddle.

The handlebars and the saddle are a team, you see. They need to fit each other. Upright bar needs a different saddle than a seriously head-down bar. At least, that's what they said.

And because I have adopted several gurus as my own, notably Grant Peterson and Sheldon Brown, I try to do what they say, and they both said "Brooks B. 17". So I got a Brooks B.17. Beautiful. Natural. Leather. And after about 1000 miles, I can honestly say . . . uncomfortable.

It seems to me that the problem with leather that is stretched between support bars (rather than stretched over foam) is that it softens and molds to your behind in just the way you (or at least I) don't want it to: Namely, your sit bones, the things that need to be supported, sink in to the depression they create in the nice soft leather, while the plumbing, the nice soft plumbing that can't create its own depression, increasingly rides a ridge that's left behind in the hard leather.

I have a 30-year-old Ideale saddle, ridden many thousands of miles, that demonstrates my point. Low at the bun bones, high--very high!--in the middle. That's one uncomfortable ride now.

As a result, my beautiful B. 17 has been getting more and more uncomfortable. That's not how it's supposed to work. I suppose I could soak it in Neat's Foot Oil, cook it in the oven, and beat the ridge with a baseball bat, but somehow that seems wrong.

So, following my guru's advice, I bought a Brooks saddle with springs, a very very lovely B. 67. Alas! After only three rides and 100 miles, I knew this wasn't going to work either.

So I did the unthinkable: I pulled out the original Avocet touring saddle that came on my Trek 25 years ago, the one that has the nice hard foam bun bumps under a stretched-tight leather cover. And lo and behold! It has been comfortable! Sure it's narrowish, but as long as my bun bones are supported and my plumbing is out of the way, what do I care? In fact (and now I sound like an equipment jock), the narrow hard seat really does make peddling easier and more efficient, especially when compared with the sprung saddle. And it's more comfortable! Even in the 90˚ heat (which I rode in today just to prove to myself that it's not just comfortable on cool days). Even (don't tell) wearing ordinary (albeit boxer-length) underwear. I rode 30 miles yesterday and 17 miles today. Nice.

And suddenly, the moustache bar works better because I can sit back on the saddle without wincing. I know, I know: when I sit up and back, I should have a nice sprung leather saddle. That's what everyone says. But that's not how it's working for me.

This must just be a problem with my behind. The many many testimonials listed on Rivendell, Wallingford, Peter White, Harris Cyclery, indicate that most people just love their Brooks saddles. And I'd like to love my Brooks (and Ideale) saddles and have contempt for my foam ass hatchet. But I can't.

So gurus don't always know best. Or, put better, gurus don't always know what's best for me. I'm still riding without toe clips or cleats (as instructed by my guru Grant) and I like it. I'm still wearing baggy shorts (per Grant, again). I love my fenders and my 24 teeth granny chainwheel. I only rely on my front brake (as per Sheldon). And yes, Nitto stems and bars truly are beautiful. I'm mostly a convert.

But they can have my Brooks saddles.