Underground Doings

You, dear reader, may occasionally feel that there is something afoot (within this big old world you live in) that you are just missing, by a razor's width. You get the news of great events or happenings, one day late. You catch a fleeting glimpse of a bicycle that may or may not have been an Iver Johnson hand-built. You hear stories of pro teams stopping by a local tavern, handing out swag and goodies. You my friend are not paranoid, these things are out there. Stay thirsty my friends!

The Wolf

Some are born to move the world
To live their fantasies
But most of us just dream about
The things we'd like to be
Sadder still to watch it die
Than never to have known it
For you, the blind who once could see
The bell tolls for thee... RUSH

A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing

Last winter while attending one of our local Ride-On cyclocross races, I was talking with a couple of my old Red Bluff buddies.We were discussing something we dubbed "The Funky Factor" in the sport. We agreed that although any form of participation in the race is fantastic, a certain little flair for the retro is always extremely cool. Especially when a steel-framed, army-booted, wool-clad individual actually ends up, high in the finishing order. I mentioned that I have witnessed instances where a retro steel, road bike guy shows up to a group ride of carbon fiber, spandex-clad, shaved-down elitists and ends up handing out some serious hurt to the group.
Well one thing led to another, we decided to embark on a project we called, The Wolf. We would build a bike that for all intents and purposes looked like an old fender-ed and chain guarded 3-speed, but with a few little tricks. Titanium frame and fork (Desalvo), Nexus 7-speed internal gear hub, 700c wheels with Continental 28c Ultrasport tires, three piece crank, aluminum mustache bars, plastic fenders and chain guard.

Deep Purple - Highway Star

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Captain Lookout’s Wrecking Crew

presents:


BICYCLE
SWAP & SELL


Sunday, October 25, 2009

Noon - 4:00 (or later?)

Carpet Mart, 905 Locust Street, Redding



NO ADMISSION OR COMMISSION FEES!



for more information, please call Jim

246-0203 (days)
221-2028 (eves)

The Search For the Ivory-Billed Woodpecker

SanFranCup recalled, "On the second day of our trip, at approximately 1:15 in the afternoon, a large black-and-white woodpecker with the characteristic color pattern of an Ivory-billed Woodpecker flew across the bayou at close range in front of Bojangels and me. We cried out simultaneously, 'Ivory-bill!' and paddled frantically toward shore. As soon as we landed, we took off through the boot-sucking muck and mire of the swamp, climbing up and over fallen trees and through branches, with camcorder in hand and running. Although the bird landed on tree trunks briefly a couple of times, we weren't able to catch up with it or take video."

Jim Swift and His Electic Gun

The story opens with Jim daydreaming of African Safaris while test-firing his new Electric Rifle. It works too well and toasts a hole in his neighbor's dining room wall, prompting an outraged visit from the toastee-in-question. A quick application of cash settles ruffled feathers, and some unspecified safety features are added to the weapon, to prevent a recurrence of the accident. As luck would have it, a famous African Safari Master is in town, shopping for a new big game rifle. He hooks up with Jim and a new custom-built airship, the Black Hawk, is designed & constructed. Jim, Noel, Mr. SanFranCup and the hunter, Mr. Bojangles, are off to the Dark Continent via steamship, in search of ivory and adventure.

Snuffy Smith

When Barney Google's adventures took him deep into the Kentucky hills to escape the law, he met Snuffy Smith, a bodacious hillbilly who soon eclipsed him in popularity. At one time the premier moonshiner of Hootin' Holler mountain, this card-playin', hammock-swayin', shotgun-sprayin' varmint made the headlines when he vowed to give up his still forever. We'll just see about that.

You say Manpris, I say Shants

That's right folks! What ever you call 'em, they're Hip, they're Slick and they're COOL! But did you ever stop to think about the practical aspect of them as well? Just imagine what would happen if your pant cuff were to ever get tangled up in a fixed-gear drive train. Too horrible to even think of. But we won't let that keep us from tellin' y'all a little story. From, Once upon a mattress. Dauntless: …Stop, look and listen.
…Boy …Flower …Girl …Flower Boy flower, girl flower.
Oh, tell me more, I want to know what getting married is for.
…Seed …fall …from girl flower.
…And by and by …baby flower …grow.
Ah, but why?
Oh, tell me why.
Oh tell me, tell me, father, father don't be shy.
…Boy flower, …girl flower …love each other.
…Boy flower father
…Girl flower mother.
Yes, yes, but how?
It's very interesting, but how?
Oh tell me now.

Booker T & the M G 's - Green Onions (Original / HQ audio)

Meanwhile Back in Shangri La...

The High Lama was a wizened old man who was very polite and spoke perfect English. As they began a tea ceremony, I confessed that I had lived in China for a few years (a fact I had not shared with any of my fellow Web-Footers). According to custom, we chatted only in small talk until the tea bowls are taken away......

Bearing Life

As bearings rotate under load the components see material fatigue. The basic life formula, also know as the L10 life formula is used to calculate the number of revolutions before a failure occurs. Life can vary considerably, it is affected by many variables that the formulas cannot account for. The formulas are simply a guideline and should no be relied upon for critical applications.
Basic Bearing Life
L10=(Cr/P)3 • 106 Revolutions
L10h=500 • f3h fh=fn • (Cr/P), fh=(33.3/n)1/3
L10=Basic rating life
Cr=Basic dynamic load rating(kgf)
n=R.P.M.
fn=Speed factor L10h=Basic rating life in hours
P=Equivalent load(kgf)
fh=Life factor

Life equation for Ceramic Bearings
L=aCL • aCM (Cr/P)3
Lubrication CL Bearing type a CM
Oil or Grease 1 Hybrid 4
Full ceramic 1
Water 0.02 Hybrid 0.1
Full ceramic 1

L= Basic rating life (90% reliability life), 106 revolutions
Cr= Basic dynamic load rating of steel bearing of same size, N
P: Dynamic equivalent load, N
aCL : Lubrication coefficient
aCM : Material coefficient

Dishing Mr. B's Wheel

It would be an impertinence for anyone other than a bike mechanic to attempt to describe in detail, the work that goes to the making of a wheel. Every part has been perfected for its exact use, by generations of craftsmen working directly for the men who were to use it. I was staying in a cottage in the north of England. I had first met an old wheelwright as I was coming home with a drawing in my hand. He looked at my sketch and said “That's Mr. B's wheel!" He told me he paid nineteen pound ten shillings for a new body to it, just before he came here; and thats thirty years ago.

Brokeback Axle

Have you ever broken a rear axle? How many ? and why do you think it broke? Ive busted 4 in my cycling life (since 8 years old). I think its mostly from using too high a gear and don't usually find out it's broken till I go to remove the rear wheel for something else like a flat tire.
I broke a Campy Record rear axle years ago. It broke cleanly at the cone threads. The quick-release skewer held everything together, but the wheel wobbled badly. There was no thought of riding it back to the car/home; The wheel rubbed the brakes and the chain stays badly.
I believe the cause was from routine abuse during racing/training such as jumping railroad tracks and slamming potholes, etc.

Crossed Wires

The next day I met a former academic friend with whom I had often discussed Indian mythology, and he invited me to his home. While there, I was disgusted by the nationalistic mentality of my friend, who (inadvertently I suppose) criticized a column written by me. Then I criticized a painting he had done of Goethe, claiming it was too thickly sentimental and insulting to Goethe's true brilliance, reassuring the proposition that I am, and will always be, a stranger to this society.

Journey to Bangkok; Epilogue

Years later, I try to write this story of the Journey, even though I've lost contact with the group and I am fairly certain that the League no longer even exists. But I am unable to put together any coherent account of it; my whole life has sunk into despair and disillusionment since the failure of the one thing which was most important to me, and I've even sold the violin with which I once offered music to the group during the journey. Recently, at the advice of a friend, I found Slovko after having failed in my attempt to re-establish communication with him. At first I wasn't even recognized by him when I met him on a park bench, I wrote him a long, impassioned letter of "grievances, remorse and entreaty" and posted it to him that night. The rest is history as they say.

Day 19; On Our Way To Bangkok

Upon entering a deep mountain gorge called Morbio Inferiore, we realized that our beloved Slovko had gone missing. Slowly we are all realizing that it was he, that happy, pleasant, handsome man, who was acting as the glue of this rather dismal group of journeyers. Now that he is gone, many of the group are finding that articles of import are also missing. For me it is the very mission statement that we are all allegedly sworn to and a list of the chain of command.

We're on our way to Bangkok

Finally my magic carpet is ready to roll!
Our first stop is in Bogota
To check Colombian fields
The natives smile and pass along
A sample of their yield
Sweet Jamaican pipe dreams
Golden Acapulco nights
Then Morocco, and the East,
Fly by morning light

Island of Dr Moreau (1996)

Brain Damage; Epilogue

My dad then began calmly describing to Ray what would happen if he ever saw him touch any woman or child like that again. Then, he nonchalantly flipped the saw open and with a slashing motion, cut Ray's tie off. I thought a real nice touch Dad added was to attach the tie to the aerial of his car, where it flew like a flag for at least a year after the incident.

Brain Damage; Quattro

The door knob twisted, opening a crack, revealing Ray's face and a chain latch. Ray said something about not wanting any trouble. My dad calmly assured him that he was already deep in it. Suddenly my dad's hand exploded through the gap in the door. Like a striking snake, it bit and pulled back with Ray's necktie in it. My dad pulled hard on the tie and the sound of Ray's head knocking on the door jamb was heard.

Brain Damage; Three

My Dad was right on Ray's heels, carrying a folding pruning saw, he yelled at Ray to STOP! Ray's front door slammed shut. My dad arrived only seconds later, screaming oaths of Ray's general cowardice, pounding on the door with his fists. A timid voice rang out from inside the house, "Who is it?" My dad yelled something about get your skinny, yellow ass out here right now!

Brain Damage; Continued

One day, my dad was driving up the street we lived on, following a tough day at work. As he rounded the last curve before arriving home, he beheld a most disturbing sight. The madman Ray, had my brother in a firm grasp (one ear in each hand) and was attempting to beat his head against a telephone pole. When Ray saw my dad, he quickly released my brother and high-tailed it for his house.

Brain Damage

This is the story of one, Ray P. An hysterical lunatic of a man, his ranting and ravings rang throughout the neighborhood all hours of the day and night. His threats and terrors were mainly projected upon his wife and children in the form of verbal abuses, which he delivered in a voice range that resembled a woman's screaming.