New To Me

Cycling.

What is it?

Yeah yeah, I know, it’s riding a bike. But what is it? Some say it’s a sport, others maintain it’s a form of transportation, and still others insist that it’s both.

But if you’re actually a cyclist, you know all of these people are wrong, and that cycling is neither a sport nor a form of transportation. Cycling is an affliction. A disease. A compulsion. A mental disorder.

Consider…well, me. I have all the bicycles I could possibly want or need, including more than one I’d characterize as the sorts of “dream bikes” I never thought I’d be fortunate enough to own. Moreover, the vast and exotic Classic Cycle museum is basically my own personal lending library. Then there’s the fact that I spent half of last year dealing why my friend’s massive collection of bicycles and parts after he died, which was difficult both emotionally and pragmatically. If you’ve ever found yourself in a similar position, you may be able to relate to the following:

Like drowning in beer, suddenly having more bike stuff than you know what to do with is not nearly as much fun as you might imagine, and when I finally did sell, donate, and otherwise re-home all that stuff, I felt profoundly relieved. Certainly the last thing I wanted was More Stuff.

And yet what to I do in my idle moments when normal people are watching the Tick Tocks or the Instant Grahams? I’m browsing the classifieds looking at used bikes. Why do I do this, even though when it comes to bikes I have everything I’ve ever wanted? It’s because I have a disease [see above] and if you read this blog you probably have it too. People go on and on about Jobst Brandt and how he invented gravel and how he used to climb the Alps in a 52×13 or whatever, but to me the most impressive thing about him by far is that he only had one bike. Now that’s strength! Meanwhile, I have arguably too many bikes, yet here I am looking at these listings anyway because you never know.

Like any TBD (Terminal Bike Dork), I’ve got a few bikes and frames I keep in the back of my mind that I’d maybe buy if one were ever to pop up for a really low price. For me, one of those (I’m almost ashamed to say) is the old Trek OCLV frame that became famous as the US Postal bike during the reign of Lance Armstrong–I don’t mean in the actual US Postal colors or a team replica specifically, I just mean that model frame:

Why? Well, I have a weak spot for turn-of-the-century road racing bikes because I was at my Fredliest during that time, and setting aside all the mishigas that ensued those venerable OCLV frames came to dominate the era. Oddly at the time they never really appealed to me, as I associated them with hairy legs and handlebar mirrors. But now I have hairy legs and should probably consider a handlebar mirror, so I’m curious to try one–not curious enough to spend anything close to a meaningful amount of money on it, but enough that when I’m bored I’ll sort of half-look for a deal, like when you’re feeling snacky and start rummaging around in the kitchen.

All of this is to say that over the weekend I thought maybe I’d found a such a deal when I came across a listing for pretty much exactly this bike, only in the triple configuration:

[Looks hairy-legged and handlebar-mirrored standing still.]

I didn’t want a whole bike, but the frame was right, it looked like it had barely been ridden, and the price was close to what I’d consider paying for just a frame. Moreover, having recently sold some bike stuff, I had a bit of a slush fund to work with. And yes, I am well aware that this is the epitome of the corporate road bike, but I wanted an old OCLV road frame to play around with, what can I say?

The only issue was that the bike was just far enough away that driving all that distance to get it seemed a little sad and desperate. I exchanged a few messages with the seller in the hopes he’d maybe meet me somewhere a little bit closer, but he was uncomfortable traveling to meet a stranger and instead preferred me to come to his home. In retrospect it seems odd you’d invite a complete stranger to your home rather than meeting him in a public place with lots of people around, but fair enough.

I then came across another ad that caught my interest, with an asking price way lower than that of the Trek. It was a Chris Huber. An actual Chris Huber.

What, you’ve never heard of a Chris Huber? Don’t worry, I hadn’t either. But maybe some of you know he’s a former pro who rode for the Coors Light team, and he also held the human-powered land speed record for awhile. As for the bikes that bear his name, the Internet bears little evidence of them, and for all I know this is the only one. But from the not-so-great non-drive side photo the frame appeared to be made from Easton aluminum, and it had a Reynolds Ouzo Pro fork, which indicates a higher-end road bike of the aughts. The title of the listing called it a “women’s bike,” but apart from a saddle and short stem that suggested a woman rider, I couldn’t see anything gender-specific about it, and it seemed like it might fit me just fine. It also had Campagnolo 10-speed parts, and when you’re flipping through classified ads it goes without saying you’re on the lookout for Campagnolo 10-speed parts. And it was a 15-minute drive from my home, not far from Stop & Shop, and I always need stuff at Stop & Shop.

Now, I don’t know about you, but when I find an obscure road bike with Campy parts for about the price of a high-end saddle, and I’ve got a moderately-sized Bike Stuff Slush Pile, and I need cat food kitty litter–both of which they have at Stop & Shop–I get in The Car That I Own and I come home with all of the above.

Here’s the bike, exactly as it was when I picked it up:

And here it is after I fitted it to myself, got it running acceptably, and took it out for its first decently long ride:

When purchasing the bike, I wasn’t even sure I’d keep it intact, since I didn’t know if it would fit me. However, the fit is actually quite good, and so far it’s lots of fun to ride–as long as you enjoy riding light and snappy road racing bikes with Campy shifters, that is, which I certainly do. Also, the seller spoke very fondly of how much she enjoyed the bike before moving from California to New York, so I’m happy to keep it rolling in that spirit.

Overall the bike is in good shape for its age, though it could use all the usual stuff older bikes usually do, like bar tape, brake lever hoods, cables, chain, and all that stuff. However, everything works, so for now anyway I’m going to do as little as possible while I get to know it:

Though the rear brake pads probably shouldn’t wait:

[Those pads have 10 more years of dry riding left, or 50 yards if it rains.]

Fortunately I think I have some Campy pads in my disgracefully disorganized Brake Pad Drawer of Shame.

And while fresh cables are always a good idea, the bike is shifting well, and I was lucky enough that these were long enough to accommodate a significantly longer stem:

And yes, the bike even came with the pump.

The frame is in very good shape, with no dents and just enough scratches that you don’t care if it gets any more scratches, which is a good place to be with a bike:

The chain should also be replaced, but when you do that you sometimes find you have to replace the cassette too, so until I can confirm I have a spare 10-speed Campagnolo cassette I just revived this one with Dumonde: