Trolling Around in 650B

While Surly offers a range of practical, attractive, versatile bikes that riders everywhere love, none of them I find particularly appealing. Instead, I seem to be drawn to their weirdest and most extreme creations: their fat tired monsters. So naturally, when I saw Susan's new Surly Troll, I was delighted. Sure, it wasn't a Pugsley, but it was nonetheless glorious.






The Troll is a 26" wheel steel mountain bike with clearances for 2.7" tires. Built with eyelets for fenders and racks, it can also be set up as a commuter or utility bike, as well as an off-road touring bike.






Susan built it up for all of the above, converting it to 650B while she was at it.




The tires are of course the 42mm Grand Bois Hetres. I realise now that I forgot to ask why Susan chose this wheel size, so normal it has become around these parts.






The Troll frame can be set up with cantilever/v-brakes or disc brakes - though I think the 650B conversion leaves only the latter option.






The Troll features interesting dropouts that I have not seen before. They are horizontal and resemble track ends, yet made with a derailleur hanger, making it possible to build the bike up with either hub or derailleur gearing.






Susan has the bike outfitted with fenders, the Tubus Fly rear rack,





the slightly swept back Metropolis handlebars,







dynamo lighting,






and one of those crazy super-bright headlights that point down to illuminate trails at night, powered by a battery pack.






There is something about the way this bike is set up that seriously excites me. I look at it, and I want to do "that" kind of riding, whatever that is. An overnight tour along pitch black dirt trails maybe?




Susan encouraged me to try the bike, and I did. The brief test ride proved to be surprisingly informative. The bike rode smoother than I expected.Very nice in fact. The Troll is not a lightweight bike, and it is not fast on the road. But it felt maneuverable in tight spaces and was not as difficult uphill as I expected. The stepover of the frame felt lower in practice than the images suggest, making it easy to hop off the bike without having to swing my leg over the back (I should note that I rode the bike with the saddle about an inch higher than shown here). There was no hint of toe overlap even with the 650B wheels. The disc brakes worked well, though I tried them in a very limited capacity.






The one drawback of this bike for me was the high bottom bracket (40mm BB drop on the frame), which made it difficult to get the saddle height where I wanted it. I like to be able to put a toe down when stopping without getting off the saddle, but the frame geometry + 650B conversion made that challenging to accomplish with full leg extension. However, I think that with the 26" wheels the bike was originally designed for, it should be okay. I could also try converting the Surly Ogre(a 700C version of the Troll) to 650B. Its 68mm BB drop should be just right for getting the saddle where I like it.






But of course I am just aimlessly fantasising here. I understand very little about mountain bikes and even less about their monster variations (still trying to figure out what exactly a suspension-corrected fork is). Still, I think that one excellent use for a machine like this could be as a winter bike. The Troll is not quite as extreme as a Pugsley, but neither is it as bulky. If fitted with 26" wheels and fat studded tires it could be just the thing for snowy Boston winters. With the frame priced at $500 MSRP, some strategic budget component choices could make for a fun and functional build.







Susan purchased her Troll frame fromHarris Cyclery, where she works as a custom fit specialist and lead salesperson. Naturally, she built it up herself, with parts she "had lying around." I hope she enjoys her cool new bike, and I thank her for letting me try it!

Skyscrapers of the Kansas Plains

Tuesday, May 10th - - Driving in west-central Kansas, you can't help but notice these tall buildings punctuating the sky. Nearly every community has one, or several. Sometimes they are seemingly in the middle of nowhere, with no town or community nearby; simply in some farmer's field. And, they are almost always near the railroad tracks.



These photos were taken as I was driving (yes, actually driving) west on the K-96, as it was called by the local inhabitants, aka Kansas State Highway 96. The overall bluish cast of the photos and any “blemishes” are caused by shooting the pictures through the windshield. I'm not gonna say how many shots I took that were fuzzy and totally out of focus! But it sure was fun to do...



















Another view of the same grain silo as in the previous photo.

Medieval Amsterdam

I would be lying if I say that Amsterdam is not my favorite city. She is far different, unique is the right word, compared to other cosmopolitan and historical cities. I especially love her dark, mysterious and leaning buildings and I never tire of seeing them standing tall on the canals. They, for me are more captivating than the luxurious buildings in Paris.

The medieval Amsterdam quarter is the oldest part of the city. This old area stretches from Centraal Station to the Nieuwezijds Voorburgwal, the Damrak in the center and the Wallen, which is also called the Red Light District. As you may be aware of, it’s not advisable to flip out your camera in public in the Red Light District, the hookers there are paparazzi shy. If you take a foto of them their no mercy bulldog bouncers will on a fly pounce on your sorry neck. Thus being warned, I only have fotos of other places. Nevertheless, my girl friends were pretty amused with the smorgasbord of sexy ladies available that night, the throngs of tourists to add that picked up after eleven and men trawling the district for the right find.



On the left is the only foto that I took of the Red Light District, by Casa Rosso where one can watch a live sex show. There was an unusual gathering of swans and ducks, it was so pretty I had to preserve the moment. Middle foto is an interesting corner building near the Nieuwezijds Voorburgwal, where our hotel is located.





The Spui square, you see that arched brown door on the red brick building, that is the entrance to the Begijnhof. On the left you can see the flag of Amsterdam on the walls of the Amsterdam Historisch Museum, the Triple X flanked by lions and the royal crown.





Kids feeding the doves on the little square between Spui and the floating Flower Market. Next foto is a traditional Dutch cheese store in the basement of the building.





Tulips in the floating Flower Market, they also sell cannabis/hash here. Middle foto is the Munt Toren. On the right is the statue of Rembrandt on Rembrandtplein.





The Rembrandt square... before, you can find life size sculptures of the characters depicted in Rembrandt's popular painting, 'The Nightwatch' here. Foto on the right is the view to Rembrandtplein from inside the cafe.





My friends loved the Dutch chocolate milk drink, they think it is the best chocolate drink in the world hehe. Foto on the right--bittergarnituur for lunch. We had heavy breakfast at the hotel that we snacked our way to lunch.





Typical Dutch architecture, the gable houses. Foto on the right, a biker meets classic rider. I love the poshy melon color of the car.





More Dutch architecture here along Rokin nearby Damrak which is really close to the Dam square and De Wallen/Red Light District.





Yours truly inside the canal boat cruise playing as tourist haha. Middle foto is a typical Amsterdam scenery: gable houses, canals, bridges and bikes. On the right foto it says Beware of pickpockets, they also shop!





Traditional Dutch wooden draw bridge, the bridge is opened upwards for passing boats. Foto on the right is a typical Dutch stonebridge and canal by the Carre Theater, one of the oldest theaters in the Netherlands.



More fotos can be found here: Amsterdam (Medieval) - The Netherlands



Our day was full-packed with lots of sightseeing and activities that I am, helaas, already quite familiar with. Obviously I have done most of them before. We walked endlessly; my back hurt at the end of the day and I was looking forward jumping into my inviting bed in the hotel and then stretching myself with the soft pillows nuzzling my tired back. The weather cooperated as well. Saturday was quite chilly and windy but it was dry and the sun shone!

A recap: We went to see the Waag in the Nieuwmarkt area; ate in Chinatown; passed by Spui and visited the Begijnhof; checked out the floating Flower Market; had lunch and drinks in Rembrandtplein and then afterwards we took a canal boat cruise.

We also spent a lot of time in the Jordaan area but this strongly merits another separate entry.

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Hey. You Look Good.

Looking straight at her, he said it with nonchalant sincerity, nodding in approval for emphasis.



"Hey. You look good."



In response she gave him a startled, almost bewildered look. As if caught off guard by his directness. As if to say "Hey buddy, this is a cycling club, not a night club. And don't you know any subtler flirting tactics besides?"



Witnessing the exchange I had to suppress a laugh. When this phrase was first said to me on a ride, I did not know what to make of it either.



Of course the guy was telling her she looked good on the bike. That her position was good, that the bike fit her well, that she had good form. It's all in the tone and in the look. Once you get used to this pronouncement in a cycling context, it's hard to mistake for flirtation. But the first time it does catch you off guard. "You look good." Just like that, huh?



I don't tell other cyclists they look good on the bike when we ride together. I don't feel ready. What do I know good form from bad? Yes I see things, and I think it to myself. But it wouldn't be right to say it. The compliment must have significance.



But when I have my camera the dynamic changes. I tell riders they look good then, and it takes on a different meaning: happy, radiant, picturesque. Maybe they have a contagious smile. Or an intriguing frown. Or the light through the trees is falling on their face just so. Or the colour of their bike interacts perfectly with the colours of the bench they are standing beside. It feels natural to say it then, looking through the lens of my camera. "You look wonderful." Or "That's beautiful - thank you."



And there are times when I know not to say it. Just like sometimes I know not to point my camera. Even though the scene looks perfect, I just don't.



The human gaze is such a complicated thing. It communicates interest, care, the acknowledgement of the other, but also scrutiny. We want to be gazed upon to some extent, but there is always a line beyond which we don't. In cycling, the gaze is ever present - focused on each other's bodies, movements. Sometimes it is silent judgment. And sometimes it culminates in "Hey. You look good." In response to which I simply say "Thanks" and continue to pedal.

Pop-Up Tour de France! A Book About a Race That Put a Smile on My Face

When Paintbox Press asked me to review Pop-Up Tour de France: the World's Greatest Bike Race by Pamela Pease, I agreed out of sheer curiosity - expecting a children's picture-book. Having now read it cover-to-cover, I must say that this is the most comprehensive and captivating explanation of the race I have come across, as a novice follower of the sport. Oh yes, and the pop-up illustrations are adorable!



Written in a way that can be read by adults and precocious children alike, Pop-Up Tour de France begins with the history of racing and of the Tour itself, before plunging into a step-by-step explanation of how the race is organised and held today.



Everything one might care to know - descriptions of the stages, explanations about how teams work together, race tactics, etc. - is spelled out in language that is interesting and understandable to a layperson, without being condescending or simplistic. Illustrations are done in what looks like pencil and gouache, occasionally combined with photos and logos collage-style. The pictures have a whimsical, half-finished quality to them that addstextural interest anda sense of spontaneity: Pencil marks are visible and the density of brush strokes is uneven. While parts of the same image might be rendered in great detail, other parts look almost like abstract colour blocks. Combined with the pop-up features, it all comes together well to attract the viewer's eye to even the most minute details of the illustrations. The book is exciting and succeeds in portraying the Tour de France as a very real and very appealing event.



Then of course there is the cute factor. There are tiny cut-outs of jerseys for the various race stages.



And things like this, where you get to see who's inside the team car by pulling on the tab, or who rides in the caravan by rotating a spinning wheel.Overall, the book comes across as well researched, though I am sure Tour aficionados would find plenty of slip-ups. The only thing I found off was a reference to a "back derailleur".



Held since 1903, theTour de France is the most famous bicycle race in the world and takes place every year in July - In fact it is happening right now, and today is Stage 16. This year is the first time I've felt inclined to follow the Tour and I am not ashamed to admit that this wonderful pop-up book has contributed to my enjoyment and understanding of the coverage. Whether a novice or a seasoned follower, a child or an adult, the Pop-Up Tour de France is certain put a smile on your face and rev up your enthusiasm for cycling - be it on a racing bike across France or on a 3-speed around the block. I am delighted that a book like this exists about a sport that does not receive as much publicity as its fans would like. Thank you, Paintbox Press, for the opportunity to review it.

Grandpa Vic

When Father's Day comes around, I always think of my grandfather, Rolland Victor 'Vic' Phend. Tuesday (the 19th) will be the 113th anniversary of his birth in 1893 and tomorrow (Monday the 18th) is the 16th anniversary of his death in 1991. Grandpa died the day before his 98th birthday. Since his birthday was always so close to Father's Day, there was usually a family gathering or picnic around that time. Sometimes everyone would be able to attend and at other times it was just a few, regardless, we always had a good time.



Photographs: Vic Phend, probably about 1917 - - With his family, 1942, backrow: Ginny, Billy, Phyllis, Pat. seated: my grandparents, Hazlette and Vic. in front: Shirley - - Grandpa with his WWI picture, taken in the spring of 1990.

Grandpa Vic was not what you would call a 'hugger' or 'kisser' which was good in a way, because he chewed tobacco and always had a big hunk of it in his mouth. I vividly remember the coffee can beside "his" chair and the smell that emanated from it. We tried to avoid it at all costs but occasionally, being rambunctious kids, the can would get bumped and overturned and the contents spilled out. It was not a pleasant site, believe me.

The oldest of the ten children born to Henry and Susie Yarian Phend, Grandpa was born in Harvey, Cook County, Illinois . His parents had moved there shortly after their marriage in the fall of 1892 at Nappanee, Elkhart County, Indiana. Henry was one of the thousands of workers hired to help with the construction of the buildings for the Columbian Exposition in Chicago. Sometime after Grandpa was born Henry became sick with "the fever" and they returned to Nappanee.

Grandpa stated many times that his father was quite sick and stayed with his parents at Hepton for a time. Grandpa stayed with his mother at her parents' home in Locke. Hepton was a mile south of Nappanee and Locke was a mile north. He also spoke of "having the run of the town" as a child, along with his younger brother Cecil. His mother had three sisters and two brothers and their families living in Locke and Nappanee. His father had his parents, four brothers, a sister and their families living in Hepton and Nappanee. Grandpa said he really did not like going to his grandparents' house at Hepton (the Phend's) as they were too strict.

Just before the turn of the century, about 1898, Henry moved his family to Columbia City in Whitley county, Indiana. He became a well-known building contractor and most of his sons worked for him at one time or another. Even as a youngster, Grandpa would carry bricks and clean up the work site. His father often took him out of school because he was needed for a job. Though his formal education did not extend beyond the 8th grade, he was a well read and educated man.

As a young man, one of the things Grandpa did for recreation on a Sunday afternoon was to take a train ride to another town, usually Plymouth or Fort Wayne, spend a few hours there and then return to Columbia City. After one rather long and hard job (the Methodist Church in Columbia City) was completed in 1913, Vic and a buddy, Tim Hively, caught a train out of town that was heading west and didn't come back for quite a while. They went as far as their money would take them and ended up somewhere in South Dakota.

They worked around a small town for a while when a farmer offered them room and board and clothing until the crops were sold the following fall, then he would pay them their wages. So they worked for the farmer until that fall, but the farmer didn't make any money so he couldn't pay them cash. By this time, Tim Hively was homesick. They worked odd jobs until they had enough money to pay his fare back home. Grandpa got a job working a crane dredging along the Mississippi River, so he stayed on a while longer. He never did say how long he was gone. Now, I don't know how much of that is true, because Grandpa had a tendency to exaggerate a bit when telling his tales. His children inherited that trait also. ;-)

However, I recently found the following on Ancestry's newspapers: The Fort Wayne Daily News, Thursday, March 15, 1917 - "Victor Phend left Tuesday for Muscatine, Ia. to accept a position on the Chapman Bros. dredges, the manager, L. L. Chapman, leaving here Monday for the west." His World War I Draft Registration Card gives his occupation as "Craneman on dredge" and his employer is listed as Chapman Bros. So at least the part about his working on a crane dredging the river is true!

Grandpa was very proud of the fact that he had enlisted in the Army at the beginning of World War I instead of waiting to be drafted. I don't know if it really made a difference, but he thought that he had gotten "special treatment" in the Army because he was an enlistee instead of a draftee. While in the Army, Grandpa was assigned to Company C, 309th Engineers and served in France. Although he never saw combat action, he was an expert marksman and as such was assigned to reconnaissance missions and sniper duties. While on a patrol to go after a prisoner, he was gassed. His mask didn't work properly so there was extensive damage to his lungs. He was sent to a French hospital for about two weeks, then returned to his company for regular duty.

At the time of his discharge in June 1919, he wanted to get out of the Army so badly that he told them he wasn't sick. That denial of his illness prevented him from receiving many of the benefits awarded to other victims of World War I gas attacks. He wasn't out two weeks before he was back seeking medical help. Because of the damage to his lungs and asthma-like attacks, the diagnosis was that he probably wouldn't live long. Well, he proved the doctors were wrong, living until the day before his 98th birthday. But he was sick for many years and for a long time had to sleep sitting up in a chair.

Because he could no longer do the heavy construction work he had done before the war, the government sent Grandpa to a typewriter repair school. He got a job with Rozell Typewriter Service in Fort Wayne. He was living in Columbia City at the time and commuted on the train.

On October 15, 1921 Grandpa married my Grandmother, Hazlette Brubaker. They raised a family of five children. Their's was not a perfect marriage; rather stormy at times. They were divorced, got remarried, and divorced again. They lived at various times in Columbia City, Fort Wayne, Troy township in Whitley county, Elkhart, and finally settled in Larwill in Whitley County.

Often were the times when he'd load up the kids in the car and take off for a "Sunday ride". There would not usually be a destination in mind when they left but when cherries or peaches were in season, they knew they were off to Michigan. And never did he go anywhere that he came back the same way! Back roads were the rule. You'd see more that way than you would if you stayed on the main highway!

When I was about 10 years old Grandpa and my aunt, Shirley, took my brothers and me on a trip to the Wisconsin Dells. I don't know if he ever took any of his other grandchildren on a trip, but we sure felt special at the time.

For nearly thirty years Grandpa worked for Rozell's, then he opened his own shop in September 1950, with his son Bill. But even before he had enlisted in the Army, Grandpa had been an apprentice at a Columbia City bakery. He learned to make the usual pies, cakes and cookies as well as candy. Many a weekend and evening he would spend making his delicious candies. Most of them were given away or donated to bake sales. Christmas was a time when he was especially busy. We looked forward to those candy making times and just couldn't hardly wait to get a taste of the turtles or cashew glace. A bit of "fame" came his way when the Warsaw Times Union printed a feature story on his candy making exploits in December 1963. At that time he had already been making candy for twenty-five years. My favorites were the turtles, but he also made cashew glace, chocolate fudge, fondant, caramels, candy canes and taffy.

Grandpa worked as a typewriter repairman, traveling to Fort Wayne every day for nearly sixty years, until he was 88 years old. He retired only because he could no longer lift or carry the machines. The candy making stopped a year later when he sold his house in Larwill to my cousin and moved to a small apartment in Columbia City. He still drove his car to visit his children and friends until the car died when he was 95!

Grandpa was also an avid gardener and passed his love of growing flowers and vegetables down to several of his grandchildren, including myself. After his car quit running, I'd go into Columbia City every Sunday and bring Grandpa out to "the farm" where we lived in rural Noble County, about 10 miles north of Columbia City. As we drove out from Columbia City, Grandpa would give me the directions by grunting and pointing in the direction we needed to go, as if I didn't know the way! As we passed the Scott/Kiester cemetery he'd always say "Girlfriend's buried there" and then "she lived there" when we passed by the next farm. Grandpa was engaged to Blanche Kiester when he went into the Army. She died on March 5, 1920 of influenza and pneumonia. I've often wondered how different things would have been if he had married Blanche instead of my grandmother. A moot point, I guess, because I wouldn't be here if he had married Blanche.

In the spring and summer, once we got to the farm, the first thing he would want to do was to go out and see how the flowers were doing and inspect the garden to see if we had missed any weeds. Oftentimes he'd grab the hoe and go to work himself.

Grandpa lived in his apartment until failing health forced him into a nursing home in December 1990, six months before his death. He had an overwhelming sense of curiosity. He loved to tinker and find out how things worked. If something broke you could count on him to fix it, and, like his father, if he did something, you knew it was being done right! He was always willing to help others but seldom asked anything for himself. About the closest he ever came to showing affection was when he'd put an arm around your shoulder or tease you about something silly. Though he never spoke the words, I know he loved us. I miss him, but he is still here, I can feel it sometimes.