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As spring approaches I find myself consumed by an almost pathological desire to get all my wheeled conveyances running as smoothly as possible. This extends even to THE CAR THAT I OWN, and so in the morning I dropped it off with the mechanic and returned home via bicycle:
If you’re wondering what I was having done to the car, obviously I was having it lifted:
Just kidding:
Also, if you’re wondering what kind of car I own, I can’t disclose that because this is a bike blog and I’m supposed to maintain an arm’s length relationship with the hated automobile. However, it’s pretty easy to figure out, because if you live in the New York City area or really anywhere in the northeast, you ride a bicycle, and you have a family, there’s only one car you’re legally allowed to own, and that’s the one I have. I only mention this because I was pleasantly surprised to learn that if you fold the rear seats down in said vehicle you can slide a 54.5cm Roaduno right in there, ample wheelbase and all, without even having to remove the front wheel:
And yes, I have various racks for carrying bikes on the car properly, but I don’t keep them on the car all the time, and I’m certainly not going to go through the trouble of installing one for a 10-minute drive to Yonkers.
Anyway, with the car in capable hands I then unleashed my own incapable ones upon my bicycles, and as I mentioned recently my next project is the re-modernization of the Milwaukee:
To that end, I’d arranged for the delivery of a brand new Shimano 105 drivetrain from Ben’s Cycle:
My usual approach when tackling a project of this magnitude is to go about it as quickly as possible, and in the process screw up like fifteen things. However, this time I’m determined to be slow and methodical about it, and only screw up like 10 things. So over the weekend I patiently removed the old parts, and my modest goal for today was to simply bolt on the new ones–no cables, no adjustments, just put everything in approximate position and “mock it up” if you will.
However, before I even got started, I got it in my head to swap derailleurs on the Roaduno, since the chain’s just a little bit slack in the grandparent ring, and I figured a slightly longer cage would do the trick:
Naively, I figured this would take me at most five minutes. Instead, the limit screws on the Campagnolo derailleur turned out not to be long enough to lock the derailleur into position beneath the single freewheel, and the other derailleurs I tried were too long to allow the chain to shift into the big ring, and the other chains I had were too short, so after a protracted period of swapping and swapping and swapping again I just ended up putting the old derailleur back on there–though I did replace the worn pulleys while I was at it, so I guess it wasn’t a complete waste of time.
Oh, and here’s how a professional mechanic creates enough slack in the chain to reattach it:
I’m sure there are about a thousand more elegant ways to do that, but elegance is for “woosies.”
By this point I’d frittered away most of the morning, and if the derailleur detour wasn’t distracting enough, in the midst of all this fussing I received a package. A couple weeks ago, while the 105 parts were already in transit, an incredibly generous reader sent me an email along the lines of, “Hey, nice blog, do you want some old 11-speed Campy stuff I don’t need anymore?” Naturally I said yes, but I couldn’t really tell much from the photo he sent, and so I really had no idea what I was getting until I opened the box and found it full of not just Record but SUPER Record components!
The funny thing about Super Record is that it seems completely pointless and extravagant until you receive a package containing it, at which point you caress it lovingly and then run around showing it off to anyone in the immediate area, including the cat. Indeed, I was tempted to abort Project 105 altogether and put the Super Record stuff on the Milwaukee instead, but as I mentioned I’m determined to be methodical and so I resolved to stick to the original plan. Sorry Campy-philes, but rest assured the Super Record will be finding its way onto another deserving bike very soon.
And thank you very much to Stan, I am eternally grateful.
In the meantime, I rolled up my sleeves and got back to work, though I don’t undertake any bike project these days without plenty of Dumonde, the official lubricant* of Bike Snob NYC:
*[Dumonde would probably rather I not refer to them as my official lubricant, but I will continue to do so until they tell me to stop.]
While the bike was mostly apart I also took the opportunity to finally file out the rear dropouts a bit since they were a little snug after the refinishing:
Finally, I turned to the parts. I do have experience using this iteration of Shimano 105, having spent some time with a test-cycle that was thusly equipped:
Nevertheless, on a day-to-day basis I’m more accustomed to working on older components, such as cranks with five holes:
Only four holes? Incredible! I must be in the future!
Also, once upon a time you could tell which way up to put a chainring just by looking at it. Now it’s anybody’s guess:
I finally figured it out by doing an image search, and naturally it went the opposite way I thought it did.
Then there are those space-age Torx bolts:
Fortunately I do have a set of Torx keys, which I’ve used maybe once in the last 10 years:
I do get the reason for Torx bolts, but what I don’t get is that the pinch bolt still uses Allen bolts:
But I’m sure an engineer will dork-splain it to me.
In the meantime, as I was contemplating this mystery, my wife appeared with a cappuccino for me:
Receiving a package containing a Super Record drivetrain and receiving a surprise cappuccino–on the very same day no less!–had me pinching myself with a cable crimper to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.
With the crank installed, I moved onto the cassette:
After putting it on spent about five minutes attempting to engage the lockring, ultimately resigning myself to the fact that the wheel I had thought was 11-speed all this time wasn’t 11-speed after all. “Oh, well, I guess I’ll have to get a new wheel,” I concluded. Then I realized I had failed to remove the spacer that had been behind the old cassette.
Fortunately at this point I was saved by the auto mechanic calling to tell me the car was ready, so I documented my meager progress and put everything away:
Then I hit the trail:
Stopping only briefly to photograph this hawk:
Despite my presence it was as reluctant to leave its perch as I was to approach it, and I wondered if perhaps it was guarding a recent kill, or waiting for an opportunity to snatch some roadkill off the Major Deegan:
Whatever it was up to, thankfully it didn’t claw my face off.
