Raleigh Sprite, Day 5, or: 'Back on Track'

The frame is primed, but will be on hold for a bit awaiting: decals, final paint selection, buying some big plastic things to hang from the ceiling to prevent dust during application, etc... More details on the process later.

Why BBQ's were invented.

For pizza, naturally... 

We tried our first pizzas on the grill tonight. Excellent, and something we will be doing a lot more of.

Notes: I found some tips (too late) on the blogosphere that would have aided the grilling. The primary thing that I will remember next time is to lightly brown the topping-side (sans toppings, of course) before adding the toppings and beginning the grilling proper. This allows the crust to cook evenly through. Why? Although naturally it's quite hot inside the BBQ when it's closed, it is not true convection cooking. So the tendency is to get a burnt bottom before the thing is fully cooked. I somewhat mitigated this problem by putting the pizzas off to one side, with that burner off, and turning up the other burner to create a more generalized heat. However, in the future, I would not only follow the brown-then-flip suggestion, but would a) heat the grill up hot prior to placing the pizzas on the grate, and b) subsequently put the heat on medium low, and attempt to keep the lid closed for most of the cooking time. The problem is, I'm such a tinkerer while I'm cooking, it's hard not to continually open the lid and see how things are doing. Net effect: I might as well just cook over a campfire, because I'm getting only radiant heat from underneath the cooking surface.

After dinner, we had a great walk/bike ride/trailer ride/running stroller ride.

Raleigh Sprite Detour, or: 'A Short Study in Compromise'

There comes a time in every man's life when he realizes that the dreams of his youth will not be fulfilled...

For some, this juncture passes with little conscious notice. As the great Waters once put it:

Tired of lying in the sun
Staying home to watch the rain
But you are young and life is long
And there is time to kill today.
And then one day you find
Ten years have got behind you.
No one told you when to run;
You missed the starting gun.

In the realm of vintage bike restoration, compromise begins with a slight dread of finishing the sanding job to prepare the frame for paint. It deepens as one realizes that perhaps one purchased the wrong wheels on E-bay-- at a great price, but wrong nonetheless. Soon, effortlessly, the idea of 'settling' develops from being distasteful and demeaning to being 'the practical thing'. If one adopts a certain face-to-the-wind, stoical attitude, the acceptance of "life as it really is" becomes almost enobling. One imagines oneself growing old, having given up greater dreams in exchange for "the middle way". And perhaps one looks back, calmly and steady-eyed, at a life of solidity and function....

No, I tell you! No! Bike restoration is a romantic undertaking, one which calls forth every fibre of impracticality one posesses! There is risk; there is uncertainty; there is the possibility of failure. If not here, then when? Tell me! In what part of life may we put it on the line and shout, "I will live to the utmost of my ideals! I will put aside all duplicity and doubt: I will make this bike perfect, if it costs me my fortune and my life!"

[All that to say, I found a Raleigh--a heretical, 1979, not-made-in-England Raleigh, but still a Raleigh--that is perfectly functional for all of Meghan's current transportational needs. It was a great price on Craigs, so I grabbed it. It will serve as surrogate until I finish the True Article. Incidentally, it has an internal three-speed Sturmey-Archer hub, which both Megs and I really like. So I'll probably do some sort of internal hub for the '76 Raleigh.]

Anyway, the Raleigh Sprite will continue its journey to perfection, but Megs and I will be able to ride together in the interim. (Enjoy the cameo: a special treat for my readers. Both of you.)

Raleigh Sprite, Day 4: "Raleigh Proprietary Threading"

Verdict: Raleigh-specific threading.
Reaction: "I was born ready."


Man hours: 2ish
Project hours to-date: 7.5

Here's the gist of how it went down...


1. Raleigh is a very old bicycle company (118 years now, I think). Back when they started making bicycles, there really weren't standards for part-matching, etc. Also, Raleigh made all their own parts &mdash they didn't just make a frame and shop around for the component mix to put on the bike. The upshot*: they made stuff how they wanted, and everything worked together nicely. One of the particularities was: Raleigh bikes had 26 TPI (threads per inch) threading on their bottom brackets and their headsets. "Big whoop." I hear you say. Well, round about the 70's, things started getting more reg'ulurized. I don't know that there wasn't some sort of guvment innerference. Be that as it may, the "standard English threading", or "ISO" (which is different than Raleigh specific) became the standard threading, and it measured... wait.... 24 TPI. So, you can't screw normal, post-1975 parts into a "Raleigh-specific" bike. So, after weeks of anticipation, I finally had the opportunity (after removing the bottom bracket as described below) to measure the threads on the Sprite's bottom bracket and it is, in fact, Raleigh proprietary threading. There are workarounds to enable modern componetry on a Raleigh-specific bike, but I will outline those when the time comes.
* Odd word, this. Looking up now... OED says that it originated from an English term for the last shot taken in an archery match. Pretty early on it acquired its analogous meaning of 'the result or conclusion of something'. Which confirms my suspicion that archery is an unusually productive source of borrowings, as far as martial sports go.
2. The real triumph of the day was the removal of the bottom bracket retaining cup without the proper tools. In short: I used Sheldon's already jimmy-rigged method of screwing a bolt + washers through the spindle hole, and added to the mix some additional hackery. Sheldon's method: you stick a big bolt through, add some washer and a nut, tighten 'em down real good, and then you can use that friction grip to unscrew the cup. Well, after bloodying my hand again using Visegrips to no avail, I thought I'd give his method a try. The problem: I had no nuts or bolts. And... it had just crossed the magic threshold of 11pm when Fred Meyer closes. But wait... there in my top storage bin was that excrement of vintage bikes: a kickstand! I had removed it from the Sprite when I first started disassembling it. It was held on by a thick bolt. No nut though; the bolt just threaded directly into the kickstand housing. Which, incidentally, turned out perfectly as I had no second large wrench to use. I stacked up the washers, tightened the bolt and kickstand as much as I could, and gave it a go. Even with all that force, the large washers dispersed the pressure enough that they slipped and effectively hampered applying the torque to the bottom bracket cup. Final solution: super-gluing all the washers together, and then tightening the bolt even more. After letting it sit for a half hour, it finally caved. (Another factor: despite indications to the contrary by Sheldon and the LBS, the side I was working on was reverse threading.)
3. There is an imprint of a figure in robes in the middle of the spindle (close up photo). I think it's a code, and my spindle might be worth a very lot of money.

A sunny Friday bonus post.

There's a Beauty in Suburbia

There's a beauty in suburbia
Encapsulated in
The concrete dappled symmetry
Of rain-wet streets.

March is optimistic, raining
Clean, wet truths.
Glistening on buckled driveways:
Hope, faith, love.

(It was 1955, and they
And their dreams were young.)

Raleigh Sprite, Day 3

Man hours: 2
Hours to Date: 5.5
$0.00

Removing cottered cranks off of a 32 year old bike is no trivial matter.

I carefully read the venerable Sheldon Brown's instructions on the removal of cottered cranks. (Cottered cranks are an older style of crank that is secured to the crank spindle by means of a tapered metal dowel [cotter] that is wedged into a hole through the spindle and crank arm.) I was able to remove the cranks without much difficulty after rigging up a contraption of 2x4's and firewood to act as a support for the bottom bracket cup. Sheldon suggests using a length of pipe, but, having none at hand, I placed the firewood directly under the bottom of the cotter as I prepared to bludgeon it with my framing hammer. Since the firewood was relatively soft, it accepted the struck cotter to a depth of about a quarter inch—just enough to loosen its bonds and allow me to remove the wood and give the cotter a final smack to remove it.



Removing the cranks aided in my sanding, and I finished removing the majority of the paint from the planar surfaces. I will have to attack the smaller crevices by hand. I'm considering using aircraft stripper or somesuch, but I have a strange attachment to a.) the lining of my lungs and b.) my state of malignancy-free health. So we'll see. Regardless, I think I'm going to be ready to paint next weekend—the Saturday of which is supposed to be 80 degrees and sunny: perfect painting weather, and I have no lack of faith in Google weather.

In other news:
I have wrapped (after re-cabling/housing) the starboard handlebar on my Felt racing bike. For Michael A.'s sake, I must say that it is perfect. Without the aid of lowbrow electrician's tape, it emerges as it were by generation from the bar itself—like a carbon fiber vine sprouting at the perfect distal interval from the stem, and winding its sinuous way round the hoods and drops in loops too symmetrical to be of human origin.





Another notable achievement: I had my first official success BBQing chicken. I was grilling up some breasts to be sliced for chicken caesar salad, and they actually turned out great (I've been through some chicken fiascos in the past): 6 hours in a basic herb marinade, and then I added a healthy dose of Shiraz to the plastic bag and sloshed everything around. I basted the upward side with the marinade whilst they cooked.

Stay tuned for Saturday's birthday BBQ for Josiah, when I attempt a Jack Daniels/pepper/garlic salmon feast. I think the marinade is going to go something like:
1/2 Cup Jack Daniels
1/2 Olive oil
1/2 Brown sugar (packed)
Like, 1/4 cup chopped up garlic
Some good shakings of Tabasco. Smoked Tabasco if I remember to grab it.
One half of a lemon, all mashed up and squeezed out into the bag.
Lots of peppercorn
A bit of garlic salt
[Whatever else strike me while I'm putting stuff into the marinade bag... maybe some halved grapes? Maybe some sauteed mushrooms?]

So, marinade for about 2 or 3 hours (since it's fish), lie by the pool, toss the frisbee... and then heat the grill up to high for 10 minutes to get it nice and hot. Then about four minutes each side, basting with the marinade.

Dedication: for Mike Arzie, with much love.

This was not premeditated.

Exhibit A: Notes/doodles from a more positive phone conference.


We notice in this piece a representative sampling of some of the typical ingredients of a Watsonion phone-doodle from the Software Sales Period. Most notable is the repetitive-generative pattern emerging along bi-symmetrical lines. As the pattern reaches the extremities of its extension, the initial propogation becomes obscurred and the fractal devolves into chaos. One senses the Ego seeking order amidst the blind and inexorable forces to which it is subject.




Exhibit B, "Phone Conference in Which Frustrating Things Happen in Regard to Prospective Client P_______ M________" is an aberrent work in which the mathematical precision of a typical Watsonion is left behind in pursuit of sub-concious emotional primacy. Linear symmetry gives way to a radial-pointillistic style that draws the observer in while punctuating its hypnosis with bursts of angst. One commentator has described the donut-like shapes as "Naked eyes-- stretching to infinitude-- that simultaneously rage against Fate and petition it for mercy."

Untitled

This untitled poem was the first poem of my adult life. I had written a few previously, but they represent an earlier ethos. This poem is dense; the references and images move quickly from young adulthood through middle age and to death.

I wrote this while on a business trip to Roseburg for a grinding door to door sales job.

Untitled

"I'm looking for a Taco Bell."

"Yeah, I'm hungry-- looking into real estate."

Young Sampson sees and she

Looks good to me. Visions of
Sweet nectar gluttony--
and kings.

"I think I shall invest in land
And work the soil with my hand."

(Delilah is the magazine that
Keeps him from his grand designs,
From all that visionaries dream,
From all that he would wish to build.)
His oxen glutes just turn the wheel
His frozen heart forgets to feel.
Kansas and a tractor lease
Reflect in cyan irises.
A suit, a card, but not a sword;
A plastic plaque is his reward.

The news will tell with humid buzz
The measure of the man he was:
"He killed Hugh Hefner's son today.
In other news, the mayor's gay."

Raleigh Sprite, Day 2

Raleigh Restoration, Day 2

Man hours expended: about 1.

$0.00.

Project hours to-date: 3.5

I made some progress on sanding the frame.

Megs and I also talked about colours (she often visits me while I'm working in the garage-- if Jos is to bed and Wynn is in between feedings etc.) We're thinking a milky celeste green, but different enough from a Bianchi to make it different. It will probably veer toward the blue side of celeste. It will have a moderately wide Brooks in one of the darker, whiskey-hued brown leathers. It will be gorgeous. Those are the plans at any rate, should we live and et cetera.

I also installed a stem riser on my Felt road bike, making it fit me and making it look kind of dumb.

Raleigh Sprite, Day 1

~1970 Mixte Raleigh Sprite Restoration, Day One:

Approximately 2.5 man hours, not including strolling around Fred Meyer looking for tools and buying Dr. Pepper and Hostess chocolate mini-donuts.

Total project hours to-date: 2.5

At this point, the bike is disassembled minus the crankset, bottom bracket, and headset. I had to get a few tools to further the cause. I found a great paint stripping attachment for a drill chuck, which I tested out on the downtube.

Challenges today: getting the chainring bolts off. They were very soft and the corners got chewed up with the slightest force. I managed to get two of them out, but the third precipitated my buying the Vise Grip, with which I was able to get a sufficient purchase on the bolt to remove it. Another difficulty is/will be the cottered cranks. I gave it a gentle go with the method I've seen on the blogosphere, but nothing happened (other than some dents in the cotter head.) So... I'm going to have to use the escalating severities described by Sheldon Brown on "Retro Raleighs".

Incidentally, on my Mac at home I can't format my posts very cleanly; thus the pictures not lined up, the text all over the place, etc. etc. Not a big deal, but I'm an obsessive formatter/fontist/layout perfectionist. Oh well for me.

1976 Raleigh Sprite

Last night, Megs and I acquired a ~1976 Raleigh Sprite mixte. For free.

The catch of course was that the rear wheel is destroyed, and there is a lot of rust on various components (not the frame, though, as far as I can tell.) I've been looking for a 70's mixte Raleigh to fix up for Megs, and this one will be perfect. It even comes with an authentic vinyl Brooks saddle.

Now every bike has it's own persona-- or soul, if you will-- and it is crucial that one chooses a bike that is compatible with oneself. If this bike had spent its formative years in a local backyard, rusting away its young life in the company of Camaros and pit bulls, I might be concerned that it wasn't a match for Meghan (an adventurous but always classy gal). Don't get me wrong; a restoration of the frame described above would be just as beautiful, but it might be more comfortable 'neath a slightly bigger-boned biker gal who would ride it to and fro' the local mini mart carrying 'packs of PBR in bags slung from the handlebars. Just saying.

However, such was not the youth of the Sprite that we rescued. This bike was lovingly used, and by that most bikeish of humans: the Portlander. It met its untimely demise in a most fitting way. The previous owner had taken the bike to Burning Man, and on the dirve back, in the middle of the lonely Arizona desert, the bike fell off the back of the car.

I like to think that Megs is the kind of gal that (if she didn't have other reasons not to) would be a carefree hippy with a bike on the back of her 1989 Toyota Corolla driving to Burning Man. Except something better than Burning Man. But some big gathering in the middle of the desert.

The bike had plastic flowers in the spokes.

So anyway, I will be resurrecting this bike. My methods are more Matrix-like then messianic. It will be a long process, with many of the parts spending time soaking in various chemicals. Then, like Neo, the bike will slowly awake to the world. First it will see "men walking about as if they were trees"... and then it will hear a voice...