Numerous times in the past I’ve mentioned that I prefer lugged steel bicycle frames over all others. While this still holds true, I like to acknowledge the fact that we all have differing needs and that one person’s ideal bike may not work at all for another. How a person plans on using their bike, as well as their budget, will determine their preferred frame material.

Steel is often thought of as being the ideal material for commuter and utility bikes. It’s tough, it fails slowly, and it can withstand a major amount of surface abuse. This makes it a good material for how we typically imagine a transpo bike will be used and abused.

But, there are plenty of riders who have a point-to-point commute, safe bicycle storage, and only a minimal need to carry stuff. There are also those who have very long commutes over difficult terrain. For those people, lightweight performance bikes might actually be preferred over what we traditionally think of as commuters or utility bikes. More exotic materials such as aluminum, titanium, or even carbon fiber are not necessarily out of the question for use on high performance commuters (bikes such as the Breezer Finesse and Civia Hyland immediately come to mind).

Carbon fiber frames have a reputation for being delicate and fragile (whether or not it’s deserved is a whole other discussion). Most aluminum frames are less tough than most steel frames, but they also tend to be lighter, and they seem to be inexpensive to manufacture (this probably explains the widespread use of aluminum among entry-level racing bikes and so-called hybrids). Titanium has similar toughness to steel, it doesn’t rust, and it builds into a light and lively bike. On paper it sounds like the ideal material for building bike frames; the downside is that it’s difficult to work with and the raw material is expensive, both of which make complete titanium bikes very pricey. Bamboo is the latest frame building material to come into vogue, but frankly, I haven’t gotten my head around it yet. Hopefully I’ll get my hands on a bamboo bike to try out before the year is over.

For our readers who are riding on something other than steel, it would be interesting to know the rationale behind your frame material choice.

A couple of weeks ago, we had a lively and interesting conversation here on the blog about the pros and cons of simplified 1×9 derailleur drivetrains. In the post that launched the discussion, I brought up the fact that I rarely, if ever, use anything other than the center chainring on my city bikes:

Well, yesterday afternoon I “made it official” by swapping the Sugino XD2 “Quickbeam” crank and 110mm Shimano UN54 bottom bracket on my LHT for a Sugino RD2 track crank (for 3/32″ chain) and 103mm Sugino BB-103 bottom bracket. Because I’d already removed the front derailleur and shifter/cable, there was nothing to do other than swap the BB and crank. It certainly wasn’t necessary to replace the crank, but I no longer had a need for a double or triple on this bike, and track cranks provide a few advantages:

• Track cranks are lighter than doubles or triples. This is the most often cited, but least important reason for swapping cranks as far as I’m concerned.
• Track rings are less likely to cause chain derailment. Because most chainrings designed for doubles and triples have a small number of shortened teeth to improve upshifting, at least in theory, they’re more likely to cause chain derailment. Honestly, in practice I haven’t found this to be the case (I’ve yet to drop a chain on a road bike set up sans front derailleur), but it’s something to be aware of if you’re running a double or triple sans derailleur and regular derailments become an issue.
• Track cranks have lower Q-factors than doubles or triples. This is the big one, and it’s certainly the most compelling reason to run a dedicated 1×9. Q-factor (aka “tread”) is defined as the horizontal width of the cranks measured from the outside to the outside (where the pedals attach). The lower the Q-factor, the narrower the distance between the rider’s feet, and the less strain there is on hips, knees, and ankles. A low Q-factor places the legs in a more natural position, and because we walk with our hips, knees, and feet in vertical alignment, it’s not really possible to have a Q-factor that’s too low. Besides providing this significant ergonomic advantage over double and triple cranks, low Q-factor cranks also provide more pedal clearance while cornering.

I’m happy to report the swap went without a hitch and the new crank looks fabulous. On the 103mm BB, the chainline is 45mm, which perfectly aligns the chainring with the center of the rear cluster (see above). The major plus is that the Q-factor dropped by a full 20mm, from 165mm with the XD2, down to 145mm with the RD2. This is not an insignificant difference, and I’m sure my worn out knee will be thanking me for it in the coming months.

The only remaining question is what, if anything, to do about a chainguard. Because I don’t like the feel of my pant cuff rubbing a chainguard on every pedal stroke, I often ride with a cuff strap anyway, so I’m going to go without a guard for the time being and see how it works out.

If you’re a regular, you’ve suffered through my endless griping and sniping about wimpy and non-existent kickstand plates on transpo bikes. Well, Burton over at Civia has gone and resolved the issue for good with this beauty. Read all about it here. Every transpo bike should have one of these.

I took these photos to illustrate the difference between the Civia Aldrich and Civia Dupont handlebars. The Aldrich is the flat bar in silver with a 50 degree sweep and zero rise, the Dupont is the North Road type bar in black with a 65 degree sweep and 60 degree rise. In the first and second photos, the bars are lined up vertically (but not horizontally) to show the difference in rise. In the third photo, the bars are lined up horizontally (but not vertically) to show the difference in width, reach, and sweep. For reference, the Duponts are quite similar to Nitto North Roads, but with slightly less sweep.

As much as these two bars are different, I find both to be quite comfortable. I think the amount of sweep is the main contributing factor. On some bikes, straight bars may be appropriate for the added control they provide, but 50+ degrees of sweep places the hands in a more ergonomically correct position that works well for general city riding, regardless of reach or rise.

For now, I’m really enjoying the 50 degree Aldrich. I have a set of Nitto Promenades waiting in the wings, but I’m liking this set-up too much to make the switch just yet.

Over at Rivendell’s Peeking Through the Knothole blog, Grant Petersen has been conducting an informal class on how to design a bicycle frame using a pencil, ruler, calculator, protractor, and graph paper. I’m not participating, but I’ve enjoyed following along. You can view the introductory post here, and the successive lessons are listed reverse-chronologically here.

Today’s lesson on top tubes is particularly interesting. In it, Mr. Petersen talks a bit about level versus sloping top tubes and the advantages and disadvantages of both. Here’s an excerpt:

I’m hopelessly stuck in the past on this topic, but I’ve been warming up to mildly sloping top tubes in recent years, partially due to the Sam Hillborne (see above).

How about you? Do you prefer an old school level top tube, or do modern sloping top tubes appeal to your sensibilities (aesthetic or otherwise)?

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For the past few years, I’ve outfitted most of my bikes with cork grips. I like their shape, I like the fact that they can be modified to work with bar-end shifters, and mostly I like how they look. In their natural state they’re fragile and get grimey in short order, so I typically give them a couple coats of shellac. This adds to their reliability and good looks, but it makes them a little slippery, particularly in the heat of summer.

I recently swapped the cork grips on one of my bikes for a pair of ODI mountain bike grips. I have to admit, I had forgotten how comfortable and secure a nice set of low-profile mountain grips can be. Their small diameter and grippy surface provide a much more direct connection to the bars than shellaced cork grips. I can’t say that I’d outfit all of my bikes with mountain grips, but for dodging traffic while carrying heavy front loads, the added control that comes with this type of grip can be a real benefit.

Single speed drivetrains have significant appeal. They’re simple, lightweight, and tough. They boil the riding experience down to its most basic form, eliminating the distractions associated with more complex drivetrains while putting the rider more closely in touch with the terrain. The trade off for this simplicity is the inability to change gear ratios (of course) which makes riding in varied terrain more challenging, particularly if any kind of loads are involved. Plus, riding a high gear at low cadence can put considerable strain on joints and connective tissue which can lead to injury over the long term.

At the other extreme are 3×9 27-speed drivetrains designed for mountain biking or loaded touring. These drivetrains are well-suited for riding in rugged, off-road conditions or carrying heavy loads long distances over mountain passes and across deserts. In other words, they provide a wide range of gears to suit those who ride in a wide variety of conditions. They’re so effective that they’ve become standard issue on many bikes, even bikes that may never see a single track or a mountain summit. The downside to these versatile drivetrains is the added complexity and cost, as well as the higher maintenance required to keep them running efficiently.

After riding a number of 8-speed and 9-speed IGH-equipped bikes for the past two years, I’ve found they cover my needs for city riding quite well as long as the overall range is sufficiently low. And on my bikes with double and triple cranks, I’ve found I spend nearly 100% of the time on a chainring in the 40-42 tooth range. This has me thinking that a 1×9 drivetrain with a single 42 tooth ring up front and a 11-34 cassette in the rear may be a perfect set-up for the type of utility riding that I do on a daily basis.

Consider the following:

• The gear combos I use 99% of the time on my derailleur bike: 42 x 11/34 (700c)
• The gear inches for that range: 33.4″ – 103.1″
• The gear/cadence/speed relationship in the highest gear: 42×11 @ 80 rpm = 24.5 mph
• The gear/cadence/speed relationship in the lowest gear: 42×34 @ 60 rpm = 6 mph

On a city bike to be used for commuting or running errands, I rarely top 20 mph, and I certainly have no need to spin out past 80 rpm at 25 mph, even on a downhill; beyond that I just coast.

On the low end, I find 33” (6 mph at 60 rpm) plenty low for loads up to 60-70 lbs on moderate hills, the typical max I experience. Of course, on a cargo bike in mountainous terrain, where the loads are greater and the hills are longer and steeper, lower gears are a must.

I’d say that I’m going to give a 1×9 drivetrain a try, but the fact is, I’ve effectively been using a 1×9 drivetrain for a number of years. You only have to look at my crank to see what I mean; the outer ring was replaced with a chainguard long ago, and the inner ring has zero wear on it. I do plan on replacing the triple with a single crank, if for no other reason than to make it official.

All calculations were made using the late Sheldon Brown’s excellent Gear Calculator.

Regulars who read this blog know I’m a long time fan of bar-end shifters set to friction mode. I’ve been using bar-ends for over 25 years and I still find them to be the most intuitive and comfortable shifters available (for me). The only drawback to bar-ends is that they only work on a certain, limited set of handlebars that have the proper inner diameter and enough sweep to point the shifters toward the rear of the bike. This eliminates a good 50% of the available bars, some of which I’ve been dying to try out.

My second favorite shifters after bar-ends are old-school mountain-bike-style thumb shifters. High quality thumb shifters are pretty much a thing of the past, but a super alternative are Thumbies from Paul Component Engineering. Thumbies are cool little shifter mounts that convert bar-end shifters to old-style thumb shifters. They’re available in models to fit Shimano, Campy, and SRAM shifters, they’re beautifully machined, and they truly are a joy to use. The icing on the cake is that Thumbies open up access to many of those other handlebars that don’t accept bar-ends.

I mentioned in an earlier post that I’ll be testing a bunch of handlebars over the next couple of months. The first set are the 50 degree Aldrich bars from Civia (see above). Next in line are a set of Nitto Promenade porteur bars. Neither of these bars accept bar-end shifters, so the Thumbies will be getting a good workout and earning their keep.

Paul Component Engineering →

As I mentioned in a prior post, Civia recently sent me a box of handlebars to play around with and evaluate. They sent 5 total in various shapes and sizes.

Upon opening the box, the 50 degree Aldrich immediately caught my eye. You can’t see it very well in the above photo, but it has a backward sweep and zero rise that reminds me somewhat of the handlebars you see on old French city bikes (but with a little less sweep).

Getting set up for this bit of experimentation required ditching my cork grips and replacing them with clamp-on ODIs for easy installation and removal. None of the Civia bars take bar-end shifters, so I also had to order up a set of Paul Thumbies which are currently making the long trip from Chico in a brown truck (hence the drooping shifters in the photo). And finally, since most of these bars have less rise than the North Roads I’ve been running the past two years, I swapped the Brooks B67 saddle for a narrower Selle An-Atomica Titanico.

I plan on trying each of the bars for at least a few weeks. It’ll be interesting to see if any of them displace my old favorite North Roads (I’ll let you know how it turns out).

I have an irrational fondness for lugged-steel bicycle frames. I say irrational because, with the advancements made in metallurgy, today’s production TIG-welded frames are very nearly the functional equivalents of production lugged-steel frames, a fact that hasn’t always been the case. For much of the 20th century, lugged frames were preferable to welded frames because the method for joining lugs to tubes (brazing) was easier on tubing than high-temperature welding. This gentler method made possible the use of lighter, thin-walled tubes. Now, modern tubes are available that are not negatively affected by the high temperatures introduced during TIG welding, so sadly, the need for lugs has been made moot in most practical applications.

I say “sadly” because none of this has diminished my love of lugs, something that runs much deeper than any pragmatic consideration. Lugs, to me, will forever represent quality and craftsmanship in bicycle manufacture (this is most likely due to the fact that I grew up during the heyday of the lug in the 1960s and ’70s). The elegant lines of a finely cut lug hark back to an era when hand craftsmanship was the rule, and things such as lugs held aesthetic as well as practical value. And even though there are some gorgeous TIG-welded bikes being produced today, a weld will never speak to me in the same way as a lug.

The bright side of this story is that there is a virtual renaissance in lugged-steel frames happening among small custom builders. The downside is that bikes from many of these builders are priced well beyond what many people would consider reasonable for an everyday utility bike. There are still a small number of what can loosely be considered “production” lugged frames on the market, though these are still beyond what most people would think of as “budget” priced, due mostly to the fact that even in a production setting, lugged construction is more labor-intensive than welding. Whether a lugged frame is worth this premium depends upon the individual; it certainly is for me.

Folding bikes present unique challenges to builders: they must fold down to a compact and easy to carry package; they must be light enough to pick up with one hand; they need to be tough enough to withstand the rigors of folding and unfolding thousands of times over the life of the bike; and, of course, they need to ride well.

While the Brompton isn’t the lightest folding bike on the market, it’s surely one of the toughest (I’ve read about Bromptons with over 40,000 miles on the frame). I thought I’d share a few close-ups of the Brommie frame. The frames are made of steel and brazed in England, and as you can see, the hinges and fittings are quite robust. The fact that the bike is so tough makes it a tad heavy (there’s a lightweight, titanium model available for a considerable upcharge), but there’s no mistaking the fact that, with reasonable care, the frame should last almost indefinitely. Pretty cool.

Here’s an interesting video from Schwalbe on their manufacturing process.

[via The Recumbent Blog]

Question: How do you match the Brooks honey color in a cloth bar tape?
Answer: Apply 3 coats of Bulls Eye amber shellac over yellow Newbaum’s.

Speaking of, Newbaum’s is lovely cotton bar tape, made in the U.S.A. using eco-friendly dyes. Available in 14 colors. Rolls are 10′ x 3/4″. Good stuff.

Newbaum’s →

Let’s see, I write a review and people ask me how I keep my bikes so clean; I write about wrenching and people ask me how I keep my bikes so clean; I write about commuting and people ask me how I keep my bikes so clean, I write about chain maintenance and people ask me how I keep my bikes so clean; I post a photo to Flickr and people ask me how I keep my bikes so clean. Hmmm, I think I see a pattern here. Perhaps I should take a hint and talk a little bit about how I keep my bikes so clean.

First off, realize that I’ll often wash the bikes before a photo shoot, particularly if the photos will be used for a review or product feature. I figure I owe it to our readers, sponsors, and potential converts to present bikes in their best light (literally and figuratively). Also, realize that living in a relatively dry portion of Northern California means I infrequently ride in the rain, and when I do, it’s on a bike reserved specially for that purpose. With those things in mind, here’s a rundown of my approach to keeping our stable clean and shiny.

What You Need

• A bucket.
• Dish soap (the liquid handwashing type, not the mechanical dishwasher type).
• Degreaser. Any biodegradable, water-rinse degreaser will do (I like El Duke).
• A kitchen sponge like this one.
• A stiff brush like this one.
• A plastic grocery bag.
• An old bath towel.

I keep all of this stuff in the bucket so I don’t have to go searching for it each time.

How I Do It

1. Cover your saddle with the plastic grocery bag (be sure to tie it in a knot around the seat post to keep the water out).
2. Decide whether or not the drivetrain needs cleaning. If it does, remove the chain and squirt a little degreaser on the cassette, chainrings, and front and rear derailleur cages. Let the degreaser soak for a minute or two, then scrub down the grungy parts with the stiff brush.
3. Once you’ve given everything a good scrub, rinse well with water. Some of the degreaser may get on your frame; be sure to rinse it off right away so it doesn’t harm the finish.
4. Partially fill your bucket with warm water, add a squirt of dishwashing liquid, and throw in the sponge.
5. Spray the bike down with a hose. Keep the pressure relatively low, and never EVER spray directly into bearing races.
6. Go over the entire bike with the soft side of the sponge, redipping the sponge in the warm, soapy water numerous times during the process.
7. If the rim braking surfaces are grungy, flip over the sponge and use the abrasive side to clean the sidewalls (go light and easy on this).
8. Rinse the bike starting from the top down. Again, please don’t spray directly into your bearing races and keep the water pressure relatively low.
9. Finally, wipe the bike dry with the old bath towel, taking particular care to dry around bearing races and any areas that might rust like rack mounts and braze-ons.

Once the wash job is complete, apply lube where needed (usually only the brake pivots and derailleur pulleys). Some people like to apply a little furniture polish or car wax to the frame, which is fine, but it’s not something that I do (no reason really, perhaps I should).

The entire process takes a little less than 15 minutes, and washing more than one bike at a time dramatically reduces the overall time devoted to cleaning.

Obviously, there’s nothing special about the above. If there’s any secret at all, it’s that we insist on having fenders with good coverage on all of our bikes. Even though we don’t live in a wet area, fenders still provide a ton of protection from road grime and lawn runoff, minimizing the amount of effort it takes to keep the bikes clean and looking good. The other secret is simply to keep on top of it. If a bike is not particularly dirty, it takes just a few minutes to clean it up. On the other hand, if it’s been months (or years) since a bike has had a good cleaning, getting it back in shape can be an all day affair and a major hassle.

And finally, know that I realize this cleanliness thing is highly individual. I’m guessing many people could care less if their bikes are dirty (some may even feel it’s a badge of honor), and I’m certainly not one to pass judgement one way or the other. I just happen to enjoy keeping our bikes in great shape and I view keeping them clean as one part of that larger maintenance process.

Well, I’ve finally reached kickstand nirvana; for the first time ever, every bike in my stable (other than the folder) is outfitted with a double-legged centerstand. To top it off, 2 out of 3 actually have integrated kickstand plates. Today I received my third Pletscher Double from ThorUSA. This one replaces the Pletscher single that was on my Sam Hillborne.

As you can see, it’s a perfect fit on the Rivendell factory-supplied, integrated plate (many kudos to Rivendell for attending to this small, but important detail that’s overlooked on too many bikes).

The only black spot on all of this is my one bike that isn’t supplied with an integrated kickstand plate (I still haven’t figured out why Surly doesn’t supply a plate on the LHT). If you’re planning on mounting a Pletscher on a bike that doesn’t have an integrated plate, be sure to order a Deluxe Top Plate (below) to replace the stock tube crusher.

I replaced the chain and cassette on my commuter today. It’s been around 2 years and I hadn’t checked the chain wear in ages. The chain was at the outer limits and the cassette was starting to show wear as well. I long ago quit keeping track of mileage so I can only guess, but I probably had around 3,000-3,500 miles on the drivetrain.

Checking the wear on your chain is simple. Hold a ruler along the chain and measure from center-to-center between a pair of pins that are one foot apart. If the measurement is exactly 12″ your chain is not worn. Anything over 12 1/16″ and it’s time to replace the chain. If the measurement is at or beyond 12 1/8″, both your chain and cassette are certainly shot.

Some mechanics recommend replacing the cassette each time you replace the chain. Others suggest every other chain replacement. I’ve found that a worn cassette can dramatically accelerate wear on a new chain, and a new chain may skip on an old cassette, so if the cassette is showing any wear at all, I’ll replace it when I replace the chain.

I like doing this stuff at home, but if wrenching isn’t your thing, you can always check your chain wear at home, and if you’re at the point of needing a replacement, your local bike shop can do the work for you. Whatever you do, it’s best to not wait until the chain starts skipping on the rear cogs; once it’s progressed to that point, your worn chain is also damaging your expensive chainrings up front.

Sometime over the past few years, almost imperceptibly and without fanfare, bicycle headlights and tail lights came down in price while improving in quality to the point where buying a lighting system for a commuter bicycle is now a no-brainer. This is a big deal to someone like myself who has been on the quest for the ultimate lighting system for decades.

Until recently, battery-powered systems that had sufficiently long run times and enough power to be safe on a nighttime commute were heavy, expensive, and unreliable. But now, lights that would have been considered high performance just a few years ago are compact, lightweight, reliable, and can be had for well under $100. We owe this revolution in lighting to the efficiency of tiny LED light emitters that are able to squeeze an incredible amount of light and good run times out of just a pair of AA or AAA batteries.

In years past, I was an advocate for dynamo-powered lighting systems; the convenience of having instant-on, always-available light on a bike used for transportation is a real plus. But now, as the “head mechanic” charged with maintaining a bevy of bikes for a family of five — most of which don’t have dynamos and probably never will — I’ve become a huge fan of tiny LED headlights and tail lights. I keep a pile of them around to hand out to whomever might need one in a pinch, and I have a bag of rechargeable AA and AAA batteries that I keep topped off with a nice 8-slot battery charger. Most of these bikes won’t be ridden after dark more than a half-dozen times a year, so having the option of swapping lights around is a real boon. And certainly, investing in a dedicated dynamo lighting system for every bike that comes through our stable is no longer necessary or reasonable.

At some point it would be fun to drill down and take a look at the subtle differences between the leading LED commuter headlights and tail lights on the market. Until then, I can safely say that any of the headlights in the $50-$100 price range from the majors will do a remarkable job. I’m particularly fond of the Planet Bike Blaze 2W, the Princeton Tec EOS Bike, and the Fenix L2D. This last one is actually a high performance flashlight that, when combined with a TwoFish Block, makes an excellent bike light. I particularly like the construction of its water-resistant, machined alloy casing. [Note: The L2D is an older model that has been replaced by the LD20]. As for tail lights, get yourself one or two Planet Bike Superflashes or Princeton-Tec Swerves and call it good.

The only downside to this golden age of bike lights is that for us light geeks, the quest is essentially over. With so many excellent, inexpensive lights to choose from, it’s not much of a challenge to come up with a headlight/tail light combo that is more than adequate for commuting. The good news is that these lights are now within financial reach of most people, so there’s no longer any excuse to ride a bike after dark without sufficient lighting.

This is nothing new, but I thought I’d pass it along as a follow-up to the previous post about front carriers. One issue with carrying heavy loads on the front fork is that the wheel can flop to the side while loading, dumping your cargo and possibly even dinging your frame in the process. Aftermarket solutions exist (mostly self-centering springs), but they’re not easy to find (let me know if you have a source). What I do is carry a toe strap with me, and whenever I’m loading the front rack with anything heavy, I loop the strap around the downtube and front wheel. It’s a simple solution that actually works pretty well. I also use the same technique to keep the wheel from flopping when my bike is in the workstand. Anyone else have a homegrown anti-flop solution they’d care to share?

“Front carrier” is the term we use to generically describe any basket, bag, crate, or rack that carries stuff above the front wheel (this could include so-called randonneur and porteur racks, cargo racks, handlebar bags, wicker baskets, wooden crates, boxy bags, etc.). We like front carriers because they’re easy to access and they increase the carrying capacity of any bike without interfering with the existing cargo area in back. Following are a few of the set-ups we like and use.

Peterboro Basket on a Rivendell Mark’s Rack

Michael is particularly fond of wood and wicker baskets. She likes how they look, and she likes the fact that she can toss in loose items without having to dig for them later. She also likes that baskets are conversation starters; she receives questions and compliments about her baskets just about every time she goes out. The Peterboro basket shown above is light enough to sit atop a small randonneur-style rack like the Rivendell Mark’s Rack.

Pass & Stow Rack with a Bates Crate

The Bates Crate offers most of the benefits of a wooden basket while providing increased storage and weight capacity. The crate can be attached to any existing cargo rack with either small bungee cords or a strap. We particularly like the built-in coffee mug holders… :-)

Pass & Stow Rack with a Freight Baggage Rack Bag

While not as pretty, the Pass & Stow/Freight Baggage combo is a tough and versatile set-up that provides better weather protection and greater capacity than the basket and crate shown above. The FB Rack Bag is specifically designed to fit the Pass & Stow cargo rack.

Wald Woody

Wald baskets are lightweight, well-made, and reasonably priced. The Woody is a popular and attractive wire basket with wooden slats in the base. This is an easy-to-install set-up that works well for fill-in trips to the grocery store or light commuting loads.

Wald 137 Basket with a Rivendell ShopSack

The Wald 137 combined with a small rack and a Rivendell ShopSack is an attractive, versatile and lightweight set-up. The ShopSack easily unclips from the basket to serve as a reusable shopping bag. Very cool.

Civia Loring Rack

The Civia Loring comes stock with a gorgeous cargo rack that has raised rails, a built-in U-lock holder, and bamboo slats. It has a 20 lb. maximum load capacity. I use this rack for photo shoots — a medium-sized Tamrac #5374 photo backpack fits perfectly.

These are just a few possible set-ups among a wide variety on the market. Whether you’re looking to increase your overall load capacity or you’d just like to have a convenient place to throw a sweater or a set of keys and a cell phone, consider looking into a front carrier of some sort — we use them daily on almost all of our bikes.

Greasy chains can be a real annoyance for bike commuters who ride in business attire. Sure, it’s simple enough to use a cuff strap or tuck a pant leg into a sock, but if you’re a numbskull like me, you still eventually manage to get grease on the cuff of every pair of khakis in your closet. Full chain cases are the obvious solution, but not everyone wants a chain case. Another approach is a belt drive, but again, we’re talking a specialized bicycle. What many people may not realize is that a perfectly clean running chain lube has been available all along.

Chain Waxing
Wax makes an excellent chain lube. It runs extremely clean and it seems to be good for chains. Chain waxing is nothing new (here’s an old article by Grant Petersen on chain waxing from 1992). I’ve waxed my chains on-and-off going all the way back to the 1980′s. There are those who claim a waxed chain will not last as long as a chain lubricated with modern synthetic oils (probably the manufacturers of those products), but anecdotal evidence seems to support the contrary. Personally, I’ve put what I’m guessing to be 10,000 miles on a waxed chain, and I’ve seen claims of up to 15,000 miles. Whatever the numbers, it seems waxing is sufficiently effective to assuage any concerns about bicycle chain life. The obvious downside to chain waxing is that it’s a bit of a process, so if your chain maintenace method consists of dribbling a little oil on your chain every few weeks and calling it good, the waxing process may may be too much and you can stop right here. But, if you’ve had it with greasy chains and you’re interested in an alternative, read on!

First you’ll need a 1lb. block of paraffin, available at most grocery stores as “canning wax“, or at craft stores as “premium candle wax” (not to be confused with bee’s wax). You’ll also need either two pots to use as a double boiler, a real double-boiler, or an old crock pot. It’s also nice to have an old spoke or a wire coat hanger handy for fishing the chain out of the hot wax when the time comes.

Here’s the process:

1. The first time you use the hot wax method you’ll want to sanitize your drivetrain before starting (you’ll only need to do this once). Remove the chain and strip it using your favorite biodegradable degreaser (my favorite method is to fill an old plastic soda bottle 1/4 of the way with Simple Green, feed the chain in the top, put on the cap, shake like crazy, let it soak for 10 minutes, shake like crazy again, then rinse the chain thoroughly with water). While the chain is drying, scrub your chainrings and rear cogs. Use whatever method you’d like, just make sure everything is squeaky clean and dry or the wax will pick up and absorb the oily gunk that was leftover, defeating the purpose.
2. Heat the block of wax in your double-boiler or crock pot. [CAUTION: Paraffin is flammable. Attempting to melt paraffin on the stovetop without the use of a double boiler may cause a fire! —ed.] Once the wax is completely melted and is about the consistency of water, turn the heat down a bit and carefully place your chain in the wax. You’ll notice bubbles emanating from the chain; these bubbles are the air that’s being forced out of the inner pockets of the chain by the wax (this is good!). Let the chain stew for about 15 minutes; the wax will adhere better if the chain gets up to about the same temperature as the wax. Once you’re convinced the chain is sufficiently saturated, turn off the heat and wait another 15 minutes for the wax to partially cool and thicken to the consistency of syrup.
3. Using your old spoke, fish the chain out of the wax and hang it up to drip dry (this is best done outside). If done carefully, you won’t lose a drop of wax and your significant other won’t kill you for dripping paraffin everywhere. Once the chain is hanging, use a clean, coarse rag to wipe the excess wax from the chain.
4. You can either just leave the remaining wax in the pot to harden for use on another day, or if you’re the frugal type, you can reheat the wax and pour it through cheesecloth into another container to filter out any dirt and grease particles that were picked up during the process. If you choose to forgo the filtering process, you’ll get 4-5 uses out of a batch of wax before you need to replace it.
5. Reinstall your chain and enjoy the clean, silent ride of wax!

The first time out you’ll notice some wax flecks on your bike and the chain may slip a bit; both will subside as the excess wax flakes off.

Expect to get anywhere from 400-600 miles per wax job, depending upon your local conditions (just like with any lube, the nastier the conditions, the sooner you’ll have to re-apply). Be sure to re-wax your chain as soon as it starts squeaking.

Straight paraffin works well in dry conditions, but you may need to add a little Teflon (PTFE) impregnated oil such as Slick 50 to increase its effectiveness in wet conditions. One or two tablespoons of oil per 1 lb. of wax is plenty. Grant Petersen advocates mixing paraffin with bee’s wax at an 80/20 ratio. Whatever your flavor, adding anything to pure paraffin will increase its stickiness while reducing cleanliness.

Very few people still use this antiquated method to lube their chains, and it’s certainly not for everyone, but if you like the idea of a super-clean, greaseless, yet well-lubed drivetrain, you might give it a try sometime.

Note: A variation on this post was originally published on my old site, The Recumbent Blog, back in 2007.