After gushing all around the Faggin (a phrase I by no means thought I’d kind) not too long ago, this previous Friday I ushered within the weekend astride the freshly-105ed Milwaukee, and wouldn’t you realize it, that bike felt implausible too:
To me, the attraction of the Milaukee is its staunch conservativism. It’s metal, but not ostentatiously so, because it has no lugs. It makes use of 32-spoke wheels and has no crabon, however it has a contemporary 11-speed drivetrain and a threadless steerer. It has a sloping high tube, however it solely slopes just a little bit. And it has medium-reach brakes–not the short-reach necklace clasps you discover on race bikes, and never the nice massive long-reach barbecue tongs you discover on Rivendae. They’re simply extensive sufficient to permit a 30+mm tire or a pair of fenders, however nonetheless quick sufficient you may mistake them for shorties at first look. Actually, except you simply hate highway bikes on precept there’s probably not something concerning the Milwaukee to offend your sensibilities, no matter they might be. If it had been human, it might simply make a dwelling modeling garments for the Hole, and I imply that in the absolute best approach.
Then on Saturday morning I had some stuff to do in THE CAR THAT I OWN, and with the rain resulting from arrive at about mid-day I made a decision to take the ol’ AMPer together with me and make a cease at Cunningham Park, unquestionably the best singletrack west of the Cross Island Parkway:
And likewise essentially the most lung-like in most likely your complete tri-state space:
[PDF. They’ve added lots more trails since this map was made, too.]
The sunshine, agile AMP was instantly at house on the tight, twisty trails, although after years of using singlespeed mountain bikes after which the Jones with it’s single-ring clutch derailleur drivetrain I’d forgotten all about chain slap. Additionally, the hiss talked about in the Mountain Bike Motion evaluate Paul included with the bike was extra obvious than it had been on my first trip:
“Exhausting use causes the shock items to suck minute quantities of air previous the )-rings–not sufficient to trigger fading, simply an annoying hiss on massive hits.”
It is because, like a New York Metropolis condo, Cunningham packs a heaps and plenty stuff into little or no house, and so each few toes you’ll discover one other “path characteristic” to get the bike’s joints working–and hissing.
In the direction of the tip of that first trip on the AMP I’d additionally began having some points with the chain mysteriously leaping from the center ring onto the grandparent ring on climbs, which was odd because the drivetrain had been working reliably till then. Earlier than heading to Cunningham I’d lubed the chain and made positive the gears had been adjusted, however I quickly discovered that the issue was nonetheless there–and actually it was pronounced sufficient that it appeared pointless to proceed the trip. Clearly I’d must unravel this, however with the intention to totally unleash my idiocy upon the bike I’d want instruments and spare components and all that type of stuff, and so in the meanwhile I had no selection however to return to the automobile.
Feeling acutely the results of velocipedus interruptus, as quickly as I obtained house I exchanged the AMP for the Homer, intermittent rain be damned:
Upon reaching the village of Hastings-On-Hudson I discovered a protest underway:
I see no purpose to infect this weblog with politics; suffice it to say I feel we’re lucky to dwell in a rustic the place we get to decide on the president, and we’re additionally lucky to dwell in a rustic the place the individuals sad with that selection we get to stroll round with indicators. Nonetheless, I do have an issue with this specific signal:
I imply that’s a tiny piece of cardboard, barely sufficient to air even a single grievance, so even when the quantity of mistaken does exceed its dimensions that in itself is woefully inadequate to convey a way of enormity. For that reason, the signal’s diminutive dimension utterly undermines its level–except the grievance is actually that she doesn’t have sufficient carboard at house and this little scrap is one of the best she might give you. However within the age of Amazon I discover this tough to imagine. If something we’re dwelling in a Golden Age of Cardboard, and one can solely think about how far more highly effective the protests of the Nineteen Sixties would have been if there had been this sheer abundance of extra packing materials.
Anyway, no matter could also be mistaken with the world, or with the AMP, or with the rest, there wasn’t a single factor mistaken with the Homer. Even the rain couldn’t dampen my enthusiasm:
And no annoying hiss!