Just about a bike: Surly Pugsley [UPDATED]

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I've been riding my new Pugsley a lot since I got it. Almost daily, I'd say. 

And the simple fact of the matter is: There is a lot to love about this bike. 

And just a little to get used to. 

And pretty much nothing that's too-terribly-bad about it. 

Safe to say, of all my bikes, none gets rode harder or (quite literally) gets put away wetter than my Pugsley.

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Pugsley by Surly from Rivendell Reader #39 [.pdf]
Reproduced with permission

In spring 2007 Rivendell Bicycle Works ran an article in issue #39 [.pdf] of their quarterly newsletter, The Rivendell Reader, about the Surly Pugsley, which, at the time, was basically a brand-new kind of production-bike, designed to be ridden over rough terrain and in sand and snow.

At that point in my life, I had worked for probably 10 of my summer "vacations" at a local bike shop and had, over the course of that time, through the shop's generous employee-purchase program, already bought two other Surly bikes, a Cross-Check and a Steamroller.

I am very fond of both of these somewhat unusual bikes and, even from the beginning, have always felt a real philosophical kinship with Surly's whole "thing," which is a lot like Rivendell's in a sense: quirky, utilitarian, and unperturbed by (if not openly defiant of) market-trends... but on a budget that's a bit more my speed.  Plus, as a gatherer and rider of many other odd bikes, each with its own very definite and discrete purpose, the Pugsley immediately made total sense to me.

Needless to say, I wanted a Pugsley from the get-go.

But, my fiscal bottom line at the time, and during the ensuing six years for that matter, made purchasing the not-so-cheap Pugsley impossible.  In fact, lately, I'd sorta come to the conclusion that a Pugsley and I were never meant to be together, despite my self-identified status as an ardent "follower" of all things Surly.

Fire: 20 June 2010

My experience tells me it's the third week of June when fire-season seems to begin in earnest around here; that's next week.  

Three years ago, on 20 June 2010, this happened:

The Schultz Fire. It was unimaginable.

It still is.

The editor of the Daily Sun, Randy Wilson, bumped into my friend Chris up on Waterline Road, which traverses the area most-devastated by the fire, last weekend.  He wrote an interesting article for the paper about his ride.

Below, I've embedded a fascinating video that shows, in some detail, how Hotshots defend a house during a fire.  It was shot this week, during the Black Forest Fire near Colorado Springs.

Visit NBCNews.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Just about a bike: Schwinn Typhoon

Founding members of F.O.C.B.S.
(l-r) Joe Bob, Anthony, Ray, Johncoe, James

I'm all about riding "the wrong bike" around in the woods on any given day, and I do so, and likewise vocally advocate for doing so from atop my personal How I Think You Should Ride Your Bike soapbox, whenever I'm given the chance.

And, it pretty much goes without saying that my new Surly Pugsley is yet another proof of this concept and my commitment to it.  But this, dear reader, is not a post about my new Pugsley (though one's coming soon, to be sure).

No, this is a post about the Flagstaff Outlaw Coaster Brake Society, which is a recent creation of my old bike-shop boss, Anthony, who has a super sweet custom made Bomber Cycles cruiser which he likes to ride in the woods now and then, and until now, mostly alone.

Today we met by Facebook(damn you fuking fakebook)-invitation-only at the bottom of Schultz Creek trail for the Society's inaugural ride.  Five of us showed up on coaster-brake bikes of varying vintages and questionable suitabilities to trail riding.

Joe Bob arrived on a sweet new New Belgium Fat Tire cruiser which he won at last summer's Clips Of Faith expo.  Tony was on his Bomber. Ray, on a sweet all-chrome late '80s Ross Mt. Whitney with fenders. 

I chose to ride my 1968, rather finely blinged-out (note: chrome fenders, ding-ding bell, and period-correct galvanized Wald wire basket) once-green Schwinn Typhoon. And James rolled up on his most-ancient, klunker-style ram's-head Schwinn cruiser sporting full-on massive paperboy handlebars and a nifty, "basketball" clamp-rack on the back!

We rode up Schultz, which, with long rest stops and brief periods of walking, took (shall we say) a while, all the way to the Sunset trail-head at the top of the pass.

We arrived at the top covered in ample quantities of both sweat and dirt (it's very dusty out these days) and asked a random kid waiting in the shade next to his bike to take our picture. This noticeably concerned his dad, who rolled up a moment later, just as junior was finishing capturing our pose.  But he remained concerned only briefly.  On seeing our bikes, he quickly dropped his guard and instead began asking about our bikes, our sanity, and our ride up.

From this point, it was mostly downhill, though only in the geographic sense.  Fortunately, Ray surprised us all by breaking out a six-pack of The King he'd been hiding in his trunk-bag for the whole ride.  So, before we rolled down the mountain with only our antique coasters to slow us, we sat down for yet another period of well-deserved respite, this time with tasty, if not nearly luke-warm, bevies all around.

Good call, Ray!

The ride down was a hoot! And pleasantly uneventful, even by more appropriately prep'd mountain-bike-ride standards: there was no blood, not one catastrophic mechanical breakdown, and zero flat tires!

Quite insightfully, James observed at one point during the descent that "we should put some better parts on these old bikes, maybe a derailleur and some good brakes, and man, then this riding-bikes-in-the-woods-thing could really be fun."

I thought his wry observation was hilarious.


Getting accustomed to using a coaster brake and a big, heavy, long-wheelbased bike with basket and rattly fenders on singletrack really isn't all that hard, just challenging, like anything else new.  The only really scary part of the experience comes when your feet both pop off the pedals unexpectedly and you realize, in that instant, that you've just lost your brakes. Completely.

Fortunately, dragging your feet on the ground to slow your rate of descent works pretty well on most surfaces.