Plasticity

Long ago, back when cycling equipment was made almost entirely of somewhat over-engineered steel and aluminum alloys, stuff didn't break very often under normal circumstances.  I have old hubs from the 70s that, thanks to periodic re-greasing, are still smooth as silk despite thousands of miles. Eventually, though, durability gave way to lightness and regular club riders started buying equipment as if they had team mechanics and equipment sponsors.  Nowadays I spend most of my time on a bike made primarily of what we used to call "plastic."  The hubs run on throw-away cartridge bearings that last a year or two, and shifters that once required nothing more than a thumbscrew now have their very own exploded parts diagrams and YouTube repair videos.  Things change.

This week, thus far, has been wet and foggy, and as often seems to happen around this time of year, things are starting to wear out and break.  Monday morning I thought I'd broken the rear derailleur cable on the Bianchi, so that evening I stopped by the bike shop on the way home and picked up a new cable.  Of course the closest they could come was some sort of teflon-coated tandem-length derailleur cable, but at least it looked thin enough to fit my Campi housings.  Later that night I peeled back the rubber brake hood, released the cable from the derailleur end, and expected to be able to push the broken cable end out of the shifter. It should have been quick and easy. What I quickly discovered, however, was that the cable itself was not broken.  Instead, the little round plastic (yes, it was plastic!) piece that holds the cable end in place and upon which the entire shifter relies in order to pull the derailleur from one cog to the next, had broken. I had to remove the shifter entirely and then remove that little rotating plastic part, then look it up in the Campagnolo technical diagram to get the part number, and then, thanks to google, easily find a place from which to order a replacement which of course will take a few days to arrive.

I've been enjoying reading the posts on the Midwest Dino Riders Facebook page lately. Back in 70s and even into the 80s we saw fair number of riders from the midwest who would come down here to race in the spring races like the Tour de Louisiana, so a lot of the names and stories are familiar and I have been able to provide some interesting stuff from the NOBC archives.  The other day someone posted a report on the Tour de Louisiana that was scanned from the old Competitive Cyclist rag.  It had been written by our own Greg Gulotta, and the magazine/newspaper had been started by our own Jim McFadden who had been down here getting a Ph.D. in philosophy at Tulane.  Seeing the masthead of the paper reminded me to post a photo of an award I had received in 1972 that had been hand-drawn by Jim's wife Cathy.  The image on that award was the basis for the paper's logo.  Small world.

So on Tuesday morning I loaded the old steel Cervelo on which I'd had a flat the day before, into the car to meet the Tuesday ride up on the levee.  We had planned on a 6:15 am start from the Playground, and there was a good group on hand and ready to roll by then, which was about when  Howard and Judd drove up.  So we waited up on top of the levee in the cold for them to get ready.  After a few minutes Woody got tired of waiting and rolled on down the levee.  A little while after that the Statue of Limitations ran out on Howard and Judd and the rest of the group started to head out at an easy pace.  I lagged behind a bit since I could see one of them already riding up the road to the levee.  I figured it would be easy for them to catch.  Ahead of me I could see Brian had dropped off the back of the group too.  Well within a minute or so I could tell that the group was picking up speed and the gap was starting to grow too quickly.  I had to put my head down and get up to speed, catching Brian who said he was too cold and was going to turn back, and then sprinting the last few meters to catch the draft.  In order to do that I pushed on the left paddle shifter to put the chain on the big ring.  As the chain made the jump the plastic shifter broke off.  Great.  Another piece of broken plastic.  At least I knew I wouldn't be needing the small chainring anyway.  I imagine Howard and Judd were chasing, but the group was already going maybe 24 mph and I knew they wouldn't be able to catch.  A little while later David had a flat, and even though we stopped for a while to fix it, Howard and Judd didn't show up (I think Judd had needed to go back to his car for some reason).  Eventually we saw them after we'd turned around at the Luling bridge, so there was a bit of Howard management to be done on the way back in order to keep the pace steady.

The incoming Tulane president

Well, with the Bianchi out of action waiting for the plastic shifter part and the Cervelo questionable because of the broken plastic shifter paddle, I pulled down the Orbea for Wednesday's ride. At least I'm able to employ some plasticity when it comes to ride choices.  Lights and computer and saddle bag were again transferred over, the saddle height, which had been changed to accommodate someone else a few months ago, was reset to match the Bianchi, and I headed out around 6:30 for a solo ride out to the Lakefront. A cold front had come through during the night, so as usual it had rained buckets for a couple of hours, the temperature had dropped back down into the 40s, and the wind had jumped up into the teens. Traffic wasn't too bad on Carrollton as I fought the brisk northwest wind on the way to Lakeshore Drive, but the streets were still wet in places (and somewhat deep in others where the drains weren't working) and there was a lot of after-rain grit and debris scattered about the edges where I was riding.  The front tire on the Orbea was almost down to the cords in a couple of places, so I was more pissed-off than surprised when it went flat on the way home along Carrollton Avenue.  I changed it out in front of the coffee shop there by Orleans, wishing I hadn't just lost my little wallet that I ride with and in which I keep a few bucks of coffee money.  Good thing I patched a whole bunch of tubes last week.

So yesterday afternoon there was a little ceremony on campus to announce the incoming President of Tulane University (Mike Fitts from U. Penn Law School).  I sat through that informal ceremony, standing and clapping appropriately, chatted with Tom and Rick, had a glass of wine, and got back home by 5:30.  They had done an amazing job of keeping the name of the new president a secret, and most people didn't know who it would be until the Advocate spilled the beans that morning.  The next five months will be more or less a transition period with the new president officially taking over in July.  Hopefully by then he will be up to speed on the Medical School, scientific research, and all of the things that the Dean of a law school doesn't usually have to deal with.  Naturally that all means I have a whole new list of things I need to put together.  Fortunately I can distract myself with this blog when I need to procrastinate a little bit.