31 July 2010

Just about a bike: Retrotec

My Retrotec (#64) and me near Sedona back in the 90s
I wish I could tell you my first mountain bike was a Raleigh Elkhorn.  But it wasn't.  My little brother's  first mountain bike was a Raleigh Elkhorn.

To me, his second-hand Elkhorn was a very cool bike... I envied it from the git-go.  Right down to the one-size-fits-all paint-color (forest green, natch).  In 1991, to my untrained eye, his Elkhorn just seemed to be a bike built for one thing: riding around in the woods.  I envied it then.  I'm still a little envious of it now.  And I'm more than a little disappointed that he sold it... probably to some dirt-bag who ruined it leaving it out in the snow all winter, or let it get stolen, or let it disintegrate into just another a clapped-out beater bike downtown.  Tell ya what: someday I'm gonna find me a really sweet old Elkhorn of my own... one that someone's been keeping in a nice, dry garage for like 30 years.  And I'm gonna ride it a bunch, in the woods, and I'm never ever going to sell it.

No. My first mountain bike was not an Elkhorn.  My first mountain bike was a Motiv Ground Pounder.

Raleigh Elkhorn - Photo: MOMBAT
Oh, the shame of it...

Motiv's were everywhere in the 1990s.  Sold then, and until recently, by Price Clubs, Costcos, and other similar big-box-bulk retailers, Motiv bikes were inexpensive mountain bikes aimed squarely at the mass market.  Back in mountain biking's hey-day they sported pseudo-exciting names (like Ground Pounder, Rock Ridge, and Stone Grinder), garish color-schemes, goopy Taiwanese TIG-welds, super-wide, deeply-padded saddles, and cheap Shimano gruppos (mine was Exage 500LX) with the number of gears (21-speed!) labeled prominently on the chainstay.  Lots of people had them.

The only extant picture of me riding my Motiv.
Cactus Cup, Scottsdale, AZ, March 1992
But today, if you scour the Internet for any information on old Motiv mountain bikes (I know; I tried.) you'll come up nearly empty-handed.   Their domain registration appears to have expired in 2006 (but their old website, motivsports.com has been preserved at archive.org). No one collects them.  No one even seems to have kept them running.  They were too cheap and too mass-market to ever have become collectable.  But, if you look a little further down in the search results you'll find a few additional Motiv-related nuggets... mentions of Motiv bikes abound in forums for beginners, for newbies, for the totally uninitiated.  Turns out, as someone who first got enticed to ride bikes in the woods by riding a Motiv there, I've got a lot of company.  So there's that.  And, well, for that fact alone, and despite the shame I sometimes feel towards it, I will always credit my old Motiv, my first mountain bike, as the important and valuable... seriously: life-changing... bike that it really and truly was.

But I didn't ride the Motiv for long.  I owned it for about 18 months before I gave it (sold it?) to my other younger brother so it could become his first mountain bike.  Because, about a year after I moved to Flagstaff, early in the summer of 1992, I'd finally saved up enough money working the night shift at Bookman's to buy myself a new bike... actually just a new bike frame... stripped naked and devoid of any-and-all parts, accessories, or accoutrements such as frame decals or head-badges.  Nevertheless it was, at the time, The Bike Of My Dreams... a Bob Seals Retrotec... Number 64, to be precise.  Not exactly a custom bike, built just for me... but a brand new, exotic, handmade steel mountain bike like no other that might as well have been built just for me.

Bartlett Wash
Moab, UT, 1993
Within two weeks, I'd had it powder-coated (black), built it up with whatever discounted parts I could scrounge at my local bike shop, and got busy riding it.  It's silly, and probably still a figment of my imagination, but I swear: the bike immediately improved my abilities as a rider.  I'd never crossed Rocky Ridge, the then-super-challenging, quite-well-named, local trail I'd been practicing my skills on for at least a year, with fewer than 4 dabs... until my first ride across its undulating traverse on the Retrotec... when I cleaned it, in its entirety. No dabs at all!   Needless to say, it was more-or-less at this moment that I became a believer in the value of a good bike... and in the assertion that my Retrotec, more than most other bikes in the world, possessed some sort of special magic that made me a better rider.

Internally-routed cables
The Retro's still a favorite-bike.  And I still ride it a lot, several times a month, for sure.  But it's changed character more than any of my other bikes in the intervening years.  It's had flat bars and riser bars, as well as a Surly Torsion Bar with huge sweep... it's had rigid forks and suspension forks, cantilever brakes and widget brakes, toeclips and clipless pedals, bar ends or not, several wheelsets, all kids of new gearing, and more than a couple different stems... including, at one time, an Allsop suspension stem which failed rather catastrophically on me while I was riding down a big rock in Sedona.  Ka-blooey.

Mount Elden
Flagstaff, AZ
Now, some 20 years later, the Retro's become a bit of a relic, I guess.  Over the years it's been broken and repaired (by Curtis Inglis).  And it's broken me pretty badly a couple times, too.  It's really just another in a long line of well-worn old hand-built mountain bikes from the 1990s.  They're not all that rare.  Not really.  That's certainly one way to look at it anyway.  And, indeed, that's the most common reaction to the bike when I show up for a group ride riding it.  But I prefer to view it as more of a period-piece... a good, solid, working example of a by-gone but-good era, of a time not so long ago, back when mountain biking was a lot newer.  That makes its mostly eclectic and almost universally obsolete parts-mix a little more interesting and a whole lot less sad.

I like the bike's unpainted clearcoat finish and the way the brass fillets add golden details to the bike's otherwise gray color.  I'm quite proud of the clearcoated Koski DuraTrack fork and Salsa ProMoto stem, too, as well as the black-anno IRD seatpost, silver IRD Widget brakes, and black IRD rear-brake booster.  I like the old ratcheting black Shimano Deerhead top-mount shifters, the Dia-Compe SS-5 brake levers and the Oury grips.  I think the gun-metal-blue and silver XTR M900 rear derailleur is the best looking bike part Shimano ever produced, and that the polished silver XT hubs and the 110mm 5-bolt XT cranks run a close second and third (in that order).  I'm convinced the hand-laced wheels built on gray Mavic 217 hoops match the frame color almost perfectly.  I still think they're simple-n-cool, so I have old-school Onza clipless pedals on most of my bikes, including this one.  And finally, I think the black 1-inch Chris King 2Nut headset and the stainless King bottle cages add a nice touch of class.

For what it's worth, the black Ritchey Pro 30mm riser bars and the Specialized BG Pro saddle aren't really period, but they're not ridiculous either.  Plus, I like them.

It started with a Motiv.  Sure.  The Motiv set the hook in me, no question about it.  But the Retrotec will always be the bike that taught me how to ride well and moreover, how to become a better rider.  And for that I'll always sorta consider it First-Bike.

The Motiv's long gone, and that's okay.

The Retro will always be with me.

Click images to enlarge










Mountain Bike Action - Dec. 1992


Bicycling+Mountain Bike Mar. 1993

Bicycling+Mountain Bike - Mar. 1993

15 July 2010

Today we did not shred.

Nope. Today we definitely did no shredding.

But, we rode.  That we did.

However, instead of covering a ton of ground during our two-and-a-half hours out in the woods together this morning, Ben and I rode maybe three miles.  Maybe.   But, it really doesn't matter, because they were really interesting miles... We'll call it a Photography Ride: a ride where both riders take their good cameras along, and there's no other objective during the ride but to use them.

I learned a lot on today's ride.  It was really interesting for me, a very rudimentary photographer with only the most basic equipment and skill, to listen and learn from Ben about things like lenses and lighting, foregrounds and backgrounds... stuff like that.

We both took a lot of pictures today, probably several hundred each.  These are a few of the best, I think:



Photo by Ben
Nikon D200
Tokina 11-16mm
Photo by Me
Nikon D40*
Nikkor 18-55mm
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DSC_0532
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*Nikon D200
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DSC_0654
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DSC_0601
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DSC_0567
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DSC_0562
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DSC_0553
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DSC_0587
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DSC_0687
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DSC_0615

10 July 2010

Riding with Ben

Ben and I go way back.

But until today, it had been ages since we'd shared a shred.

Like me, Ben's a school teacher in real life.  But he lives and works overseas, along with his family, so we see very little of them these days, except now-and-then on Google Chat.  However, they're all in Flagstaff for a couple weeks at the moment, house-sitting for some mutual friends.

Ben and I used to work together at the bike shop.  Back in The Day.  So we've been on lots of rides together over the years.  Ben's always been a really great bike rider: fast, agile, stoked to ride.  Almost everyone who knows him knows that.

Fewer folk know that Ben's also a truly gifted photographer.  Always has been, long as I've know him. A dozen years ago or so he took a few pictures of my wife and I when we were all in Vegas for Interbike.  A couple of them have become a part of the permanent collection on display in our living room.




Over the years he's also taken a few pictures of me riding.


But today, on our first ride together in at least a year, around Dry Lake Hills, with his little pocket point-and-shoot camera, he really has outdone himself. If ya ask me: I think these pictures are awesome... and  not just because I'm in them.


My new favorite-picture of me riding.
Still riding those Onza pedals...
Dry Lake Hills
Dry Lake Hills

04 July 2010

July is not just No-School Month and Work-At-The-Shop Month, it's also The Month Of The Tour

I love July because I don't have to teach in July.  It's the only month of the year that that's a fact.  Both June and August get cut into small parts by the school year.  But not July.  It's a nice respite, July.  Peaceful.

Nevertheless, in honor of July, the month without school, they've been working me pretty hard at the bike shop the last week or so.  I told them I was cash-poor and wanted hours, and boy did I get 'em!  I think I've been on 7 of the last 9 days, or something like that.  It's already become kinda a blur.  Nine hours a day on the sales floor, for days on end... standing, running, lifting, making stupid mistakes...  Trust me: it's enough, to take all but the very last breath of wind out of my sails, come days-end... so this-here blog's been a mess of languish, and little more, of late.  I'm gonna try and fix that; I wanna fix that.  But we'll have to wait and see.

I've also been remiss in posting because I'm working on a post for Utility Cycling about riding Trailer-bikes (aka: Trail-a-Bikes©) with your kids.  It's not done, not by a long-shot, but it's already well overdue.  Truth is: I'm not sure when it'll actually be done.  Because, come July each year, new distractions enter my periphery every day.  See, July is not just No-School Month and Work-At-The-Shop Month, it's also The Month Of The Tour.  As in Le Tour De France.  Which, in case you don't know, is a bike race big enough to rival nothing less than the World Cup itself, both in terms of its grandeur and its obscurity.

Today's Tour stage, technically the second, but actually labeled the first (the one that comes after the Prologue, natch), was a flat sprinter's-stage in Belgium.  It ran rather predictably, 3 or 4 massive crashes in the last few Ks notwithstanding.  But, about 20 minutes into the broadcast there was this wonderful, brief moment, wherein I was reminded, quite unexpectedly, of my deadline, and of why bikes are just so great.