Drop Everything!

It’s been a little over two weeks since I took delivery of the Roaduno, and as of last week I was in a very good place with it:

I’d changed the tires, I’d put a little tape on the bars, I’d gotten the two-speed drivetrain working, and I’d even added a fancy new seatpost and leather ass-pedestal. It was comfy, visually appealing, and running smoothly, and so I figured now I’d finally stop tinkering with it.

But.

I’d gotten a box of goodies from Rivendell along with the Roaduno, including this:

The Roaduno comes with the Choco bar–it’s the same bar that was on my Homer when I first got it:

I like the Choco very much. It’s got a nice upright hand position behind the brake lever, it’s got a nice sporty position ahead of the brake lever, and it’s got a nice climbing-out-of-the-saddle position up front where the bar curves and makes its way through the stem. I could easily ride the Choco bar happily ever after…yet invariably on a road-ish type bike I seem to revert to drop bars:

Besides one being designed for use as a singlespeed (or two- or three-speed) and one being designed for use with a normal geared drivetrain, the Roaduno and the Homer are very similar–so similar that you might be wondering why someone would want both a Roaduno and a Homer. Look, what can I tell you? We’re talking about bikes here, there’s no room for logic. Why do some people want dinner and then dessert? Why do some people want both a dog and a cat? Why do some people want a townhouse and a country house? BECAUSE WE WANT TO LIVE, DAMN IT! Because we want to palp every last bit of nectar from the flower of existence! Because we want to go balls-deep in the Jell-O! (Word to the wise: don’t eat the Jell-O.) Because some souls burn dimly, whilst others burn brightly–bonfires of inspiration that illuminate the world for those too timid to stoke their own flame!

Also I like the mustard color.

Anyway, the reason I mention they’re very similar is that when I first got the Roaduno I figured I’d keep the Choco bar on there to further distinguish the two bikes. Also, I really liked it. But I kept thinking about the drops, and so yesterday as I was heading out for a ride I found myself doubling back and swiftly beheading the bike:

Note that I’ve kept everything together so that I can swiftly reattach it if the mood strikes me.

Blood was spewing geyser-like from the steerer tube, so I quickly stopped the bleeding by inserting a new stem:

That’s an oversized stem (or what is now considered just a normal-sized stem), and the bar is standard road diameter (or what is now considered undersized in the constantly-swelling world of bicycles, go figure, someone please give the bike world an antihistamine), so I made up the difference with the shims Rivendell had thoughtfully provided:

Next I added the levers:

And before I knew it I had myself a cockpit:

That was the easy part. The part I was worried about was taping the bars. See, I still had some Newbaum’s left from my pathetic and ill-fated attempt at clothing up the Homer:

I wanted to use the rest of the roll, and this time I was determined to succeed, but I was still traumatized from the last time, when I’d made every mistake possible and was lucky to get out of it without getting Newbaum’s in my hair or accidentally mummifying the cat:

[Nobody did Newbaum’s like the ancient Egyptians.]

So I went very slowly, and all was going well. I got one side done and it came out pretty good. But then I began to experience a highly Rivendellian form of anxiety when halfway up the second side of the bar it started to look like I might run out of cloth tape. With trepidation I rounded the bend, like a defenseless senior in a dark alley, certain that each time around the bar would be my last:

Thankfully, like the tiny bit of oil that miraculously lit the menorah for eight days, so did my dwindling supply of tape wrap the entirety of the bar. So close was I to running out that when I reached the end of the bar there was nothing even left to cut. I then finished everything in electrical tape, since if I can hardly manage a roll of Newbaum’s there’s no way I could handle twine:

I’m sure I could have done a better job, but it’s going to get so grimy in a week or two it’s not gonna matter anyway:

And no, I’m not shellacking it–for the cat’s sake:

[Who hasn’t accidentally shellacked a cat at least once?]

Setting out for a ride, I was immediately pleased:

Not only do drops suit the bike perfectly, but it turns out the shape of this particular bar–the Nitto 177 or so-called “Noodle”–seems like maybe it’s everything it’s cracked up to be:

This highly favorable impression was in no way diminished when I headed onto the trail:

While the Choco gives you that comfy upright position and that delightful backsweep, if you find yourself spending a lot of time with your hands ahead of the levers in the “sporty” position then you don’t always have ready access to the brakes without changing your grip. With drops it’s pretty much the opposite, and the brakes are always more or less at your fingertips–unless you’re holding onto the tops, though generally you’re only doing that when you’re tootling along and don’t need quick brake access anyway (and if you do you can always get those top-mount levers that were in style for like three minutes):

Between the width and the comfort I suspect that for many people the Choco would be the ideal bar for a bike like this–especially if you never find yourself in the drops, which a lot of people never do: