Monday, January 31, 2011

California - Day 7...

I woke up today a bit bleary.

Okay, a lot bleary.

Last night I was up until almost 2:30 AM. That's local time; that means 5:30 AM back at home.

And when I went to sleep I had no bike to speak of.

My host did some analysis last night, theorizing that the welding affected the BB30 shell. When I finally got going this morning, I checked in brighter light, with a more clear head. I decided to check the shell's roundness by using a bearing for comparison.

We initially thought the bearings were being radially compressed. That means they were getting "shrunk" in diameter. Or radius, as the case may be.

That's really hard to do. Think about a round thing like a bearing. If you squeeze it, it'll tend to bulge out elsewhere.


And that's what was happening in the frame. The BB30 shell, which I'm sure was perfect when it was made, warped a bit due to the welding. Problem is that it's hard to source BB30 facing tools (right now I think they're unavailable). This seems a bit ridiculous because any time you weld a BB30 shell it'll warp just a touch, and you need to be able to get it right.

Cannondale and other big manufacturers do their machining after the frame is built. A small outfit needs that option, but it's simply not out there.

Note "line" to the left of the bearing. That's daylight coming through a gap.

Neither I nor the host have a micrometer so I couldn't measure and file. Nor could I use a pre-existing tool to face the thing; we didn't have one of those either.

I used the "visual gap" and "rocking" method to see where I had to file. A gap meant no filing at all. If I could rock the bearing back and forth, the "pivot" areas needed to be filed.

I'd given up yesterday after many hours of checking, filing, testing, refiling. I stopped when I started getting delirious, unable to maintain coherent thought, forget about conversation.

Well, I should have kept going because it took only a few minutes and one test fit to install the BB30 bearings.

After judicious filing, I got the bearing in without much trouble.

The other bearing. Also in without much trouble.
You can see the c-clip limiting how far in the bearing sits.

Bearing shield (black thing) and spindle.
It's still stiff - note the crankarm's unsupported position.

There's still some compression going on because the crank doesn't spin at all. But it went in okay, it turns, and there's no notchiness (last year the bottom bracket was so tight that the crank arms "indexed" as they turned).

I decided that's the way it'll be and proceeded with "the easy stuff."

Rear brake mounting nut access is tight.

I brought my Torx tools specifically because I knew I'd have to adjust the brake shoes. I didn't think it'd take me 30 minutes to find the stupid tools. I stuck them in my backup pair of Sidis. Note to self: check shoes first next time.

Cables, housing, tape, optimistically laid out.

You can see the theme here. Black and blue.

Front derailleur test fit, with K-Edge front chain guard.

The front derailleur mount put the tail of the derailleur into the chainring teeth. I knew I'd seen this before and couldn't remember the solution. After letting the problem simmer in my mind, I realized I need to simply file the braze-on mount until the mount's angle matched what I needed.

15 minutes of filing and testing and, voila, front derailleur.

Nokon gold link, downtube cable housing stops.

Nokon sets get assembled at a factory so I had to remove the links to "right side up" the gold Nokon key link on the left side.

The segment thing is nice because you can match housing lengths right and left, and you know it's exact.

Ran the teflon liner thing all the way to the bottom bracket shell.

I ran the inner liner the full length of the cable whenever possible. I ran them down both derailleur cables to the bottom of the downtube.

The brakes both have full length housing (the internal one has no stops, the housing just goes through the top tube). No worries about liners there - just run them through the whole length.

I want the blue to show so I used the beat up silver and black Nokons to fill in under the tape.

Nokon supplies just enough segments to cover the exposed portions of housing. Since I like their functionality most, I now put Nokons under the bar tape (normally you use a cheater piece of housing, included with the Nokon kits).

I have 3.5 bikes worth of Nokons (a friend gave me half a kit a while ago), and I only have two bikes with Nokon housing. I can go the full length in Nokon, just not in one color.

Teflon liner poking out of the hole in the seat tube, allowing the cable to go to the front derailleur.

Since the opening in the seat tube has no liner I had to use a Teflon liner to prevent the cable from garrotting the seat tube until it split in two.

Almost done. Chain and tape and SRM wiring harness to go.

So, I've left the chain, bar tape, SRM wiring, and maybe a seat post cut for tomorrow. I'm just too tired now to do anything and I don't want to screw anything up.

Good night all!

Sunday, January 30, 2011

California - Day 6 - Where's the Riding?!

Day Six. California. Training camp.

I've been under the weather, I got out for two rides, and... that's it.

Day Six didn't help things much, although I learned what I need to do. That's a big part of avoiding that feeling of helpless, knowing what needs to get done.

Today I decided to work on the bike. I thought of getting in a ride later, but when it rained, a kind of unusual event, I canned that idea of riding.

With the rain came the idea of committing to the TsunamiTwo. See, the one big thing to install on the new frame is the BB30 bearings and crankset. If they go on okay then the bike is fine.

If not, not.

First I did what I could without having to touch TsunamiOne - the fork.

Before that though I wanted to see what the bike would look like with a 90 mm tall rear wheel sitting in the dropouts.

I think about this time I mentioned to the host that I was glad I was building the bike here. At home I'd have rushed things, short for time, unable to spend too much time on any one project. Here, time stood still. I could spend 5 hours on the bike and still have 5 hours of daylight left.

Well, okay, I could spend 3 hours because I'm waking up later than 7, but you get the idea.

Wicked cool. If I glue some felt or hook and loop stuff on the seat tube it could act as a tire saver.

I should have pointed out that my host broke out the good camera. You can tell because the pictures are a lot better. Deep blacks, nice depth, yada yada yada.

Another look at the openings at the bottom of the seat and down tubes.
I wonder if they'll hum at all.

The blow-hole like opening for the front derailleur cable.
Note the pristine BB shell...

A nice look at the seat mast.

The narrow down tube. And the close seat tube.

Trial fit of fork, headset, and stem.

The 3T Funda Team fork is a lightweight (330g measured, cut, including sleeve) fork. It's a result of 3T's overhaul of its design processes, including the recruiting of an ex-F1 carbon fiber engineer.

(F1 is top of the level car racing, and the teams use carbon fiber everywhere.)

As the engineer put it, they were doing it all wrong. He went through the line and revamped pretty much everything.

This fork was one of those things.

The fork's important stuff.

The biggest danger to a fork isn't the huge pothole. Well, not directly. The weak point of the fork is the bit where the stem attaches. Due to overtightening of the stem, unseen damage after a fall, and probably a zillion other things, the stem/steerer-tube junction remains the most critical customer/shop serviced area. Cutting a fork, installing one, even adjusting the angle of the stem... they all rely on being able to consistently clamp the (if so equipped) carbon fiber fork.

3T now has a metal sleeve that you epoxy (two part epoxy) into place. A star nut sits in the sleeve, ready to pull the stem cap down.

First you cut the fork to the right length, then you file and sand the edges with very specific sand paper. In preparation for the epoxy, you need to wipe everything down with rubbing alcohol after sanding any rough spots. Finally a two part epoxy glues the sleeve in place.

Sanding the edges with 120g silicone carbide sandpaper.

Luckily most of the required items came with the fork. No nitrile gloves, no respirator, no file. But the sand paper, the epoxy, the Popsicle stick to mix said epoxy, all included.

Without epoxy, test fit.

Of course I cut the fork conservatively, 2 mm too long. I had fudged 2 mm because that's the width of the blade.

Properly schooled, I punished myself by passing out on the couch, sleepy like crazy. Then, a bit groggy from my nap, I went and promptly cut the next 2 mm off.

That's more like it.

With rain falling I decided to take the plunge and give the BB a shot.

You can see TsunamiOne in the background.
I'm optimistically installing the cranks on TsunamiTwo.

At about this time I ran into trouble. When I finally managed to get the bearings into the shell, they'd barely turn. I mean we had to exert a lot of force to get the bearings to go even a few mm. I tried to get the spindle in but even with some really good whacks with a heavy mallet, the spindle didn't go through.

I'd talked about how I was glad I was doing the bike here due to the time available here. Well, another reason is the detail oriented host. He'd find anything and everything wrong with the bike. The BB30 trials cinched it. If it were at home I'd have just gotten a bigger hammer.

Instead, with the analytical host thinking in overdrive, I now know the BB shell got distorted (probably during welding). It has to be re-created in round so that the bearings would work properly.

BB shell with circlips. The clips keep the bearings from going in too far.

Optimistically installing a bearing.

I took the bearings out later.

Several times.

Cleaning out some grease. Or adding it, I forget which. I did that several times too.

The problem was the BB shell distorted the BB30 bearings, causing them to go oval. My host noticed the bearings would rock back and forth one way but not another. He noticed that he could see gaps in the loose bits.

The bound up the bearings made it virtually impossible to insert the spindle or to even turn the bearings at all. The first time I almost got the cranks on, they'd pretty much stay where ever you turned them.

No spin at all.

The weirdness I experienced last year was because of the same reason (and I measured up to a 15 watt loss in friction, pedaling furiously in a tiny gear while coasting at 45 mph). It wasn't a fluke. I think it'd caused by welding a pre-finished BB30 shell. I think that the shell needs to be machined after welding.

Problem is that there aren't any BB30 facing tools that I know of. I heard of one or two coming out but I haven't seen them anywhere for sale.

Therefore I had to use a different facing tool.


I'm using a Mark 1 facing tool, with an infinitely adjustable cutting range.
It has two hands, glasses (in my case), and very dusty hands.

Because filing is like cutting a fork - you can always cut more but you can't add stuff back - I filed diligently and slowly. After a lot of trial fits and such, I had to give up. I felt as tired as I did when I took my midafternoon nap.

Except this time it was midnight.

My host captured the moment.

"Wow. I got nothing done."

Look, at least the pictures look better. And I was wearing my Expo hoodie.

As far as the bike goes?


Yeah, I know, I know. But I really want to get it done tomorrow. TsunamiOne is down so I have no choice.

Saturday, January 29, 2011

California - Day 5 - LSD

My leg before I started riding here, picture taken Friday.
Permatan evident. So are a lot of Clone Wars figures.

(I decided to see what would happen with my leg in my riding here. This is a before picture.)

When I woke up today was dark, cold, dark, and cold. It's amazing what the desert is like, so cold at night, it's demoralizing compared to the bright sunny days.

I'd told some people that I'd be doing the Swamis B ride but everything in my body, just everything, screamed that it'd be a bad idea.

My legs felt sore, my glutes and quads especially, my upper body had that general fatigue sense of malaise, and my stomach growled at me.

I thought, well, I really want to go but I don't know if I can or should. I'm a big believer in following instincts, and in the morning, in the dark, in the cold, my instincts told me that I should not do this ride.

But once downstairs the sun peeked out, instantly warming everything up a good 20 degrees. Well, not really, but kind of.

You know how we have the windchill in Connecticut? (I know it's elsewhere, but I'm just saying.) It's 10 degrees but it feels much colder because the windchill makes it feel like -10 degrees.

Well, here, in Southern California, they must have a "sun warmth" factor.


Because I kitted up, and based on my instinct, I put on shorts, a short sleeve jersey, a long sleeve, and stuck a vest in my pocket. One layer on my legs and arms, two on my torso.

I went outside and my host looked at me a bit quizzically.

"No knee warmers?"
"No, it's warm. Why?"
"It's 49 degrees out."

It felt warm. Until I moved ten feet away, into the shade.


My vest came out pretty easily. I never put it back in my pocket, never took it off until we got back home.

We headed out, my host checking the time and admitting that we'd miss the ride. We headed down south towards the ride start point anyway.

First we dropped by the Campy Mothership.

I did a little jump after a truck, the same spot where I jumped after the truck yesterday. Although I didn't feel like I went much harder than yesterday's sub-1100 watt jump, today I broke well into the 1300s.

The truck, though, escaped.

Properly warmed up we headed out. I felt pretty good on the bike, the aero wheels a bit wobbly in the gusty wind, but not terrible. The bike felt good - it'd expanded mentally a bit. The saddle didn't feel quite as low, the bars seemed just a touch further out.

I was acclimating to the bike.

I started noticing other things. I did a poor job taping the right side of my bars when I replaced the terrible carbon no-adhesive-on-the-back tape that had unraveled. I may have to rewrap that side with new tape.

I noticed, too, that the left side (which still has the terrible carbon no-adhesive-on-the-back tape) seemed to be migrating a bit. Maybe it was that monster jump at the beginning of the ride but there's definitely a spot appearing on the drops. Time to redo the left side.

I also, as usual, tilted my bars a bit too high up when I assembled my bike. I need to drop the hoods a few millimeters. It's great on the hoods but a bit odd on the drops.

The bike works overall though.

My legs seemed to roll pretty well on their own. I consistently saw numbers in the mid-200s while doing short rises and such, heart rate stable in the mid 160s. With an FTP measured recently in about 210 watts, and my heart rate typically limited to 168 or 170 in the pre-season, I felt pretty good about the numbers I noticed.

We talked a lot on our ride, with a discrete suffering rider latching on at some point, sitting on our wheels, and waving when he turned off. Although he never really interacted with us, I pointed out stuff in the road, signaled stops and stuff.

What struck me about him?

He stopped at the stop signs with us.

He stopped at the lights.

He rode respectably.

When he turned off it wasn't a big deal, but I knew we'd ridden with a good rider. Maybe tired, maybe tuning into his own sensations, but a good rider. A good guy.

I started to fade when we hit the long climb (the wide one, left road when heading south) by Torrey Pines. I had a bit of a Balance bar, drank my first sip of water, and felt a bit better.

We ate next to the golf place, checked out the blimp over the PGA game, and refueled a bit.

Blimp and a chopper.

This Z in the parking lot for the golf game looks like a HotWheels car.

Properly recovered we headed back.

It was grim.

We crawled along, tired, weak, sore. I quickly realized that had I been on the Swamis ride, I'd have gotten totally shelled at around this point. Plus, when we checked the ride info last night, the site said that today would be a special photo op day and that both groups would start together before splitting up, the fast group allegedly waiting to let the gap open to the standard 20 minutes to the slow group.

When I heard this I looked at my host knowingly.

"That just means that they'll drop the hammer and the whole ride will blow up."

My legs, on the way back, would have withstood little pressure, and such a blowing up ride would have meant disaster.

We turned into that rider that sat on our wheels earlier in the day. We rode grimly, quietly, let everyone roll by us with no reaction, and rolled along in our own little purgatories. Thoughts filled my mind, random ones.

The Missus grew up with a blue and white VW bus in her family. This is for her.

One of the BikeForums guys posted a picture of this sign. It's still there. After several SoCal training camps, his sign has become a familiar landmark for me.

I didn't drink a lot of water during the ride, never finishing one bottle, and at some point traded my host his empty for my untouched second bottle. I tried to drink some water but maybe I had gotten beyond the point; I never felt thirsty or even a bit dry.

I started to cramp and, in desperation, only a few miles from home base, I ate a new kind of PowerBar I just picked up, some electrolyte version. I had to drink water to wash the stuff down.

Well now.

I don't know what helped me, the sugar, the electrolytes, the water, or a combination of a couple/all of them. Whatever. I felt good enough to do a final jump on the final hill, replicating my best jump from yesterday. Weaker, yes, but no cramps, no bad reactions from my body.

At the end of a long day in the saddle, that felt good.

I worried about refueling that evening, but a birthday party at an Italian restaurant... well, I ate a lot. Pasta. Meat. Even a little bit of desert.

Later, when I downloaded the ride, I saw the just-under-1100 watt number. Coincidentally I hit the identical number yesterday, but as a peak for the ride, not just one jump.

Overall the numbers were a lot more... modest.

Under 15 mph. 140 watts average.

Long slow distance.

I know LSD stands for long steady distance.

For us, today, the S meant slow.

But I'm refueled. My body is busy absorbing an immense amount of calories and protein and carbs. I can even feel my legs - they're swollen to the point that my jeans feel uncomfortably tight. It's not a bad thing though; my legs feel good when they get this way. I know my legs will come around.

No excuses for tomorrow.

Friday, January 28, 2011

California - Day 4 Shop and Ride

I had two items on my agenda: get the headset cups pressed in the new frame and go for a ride.

The first seemed pretty straightforward. Bring frame to local shop, a few miles away, get headset cups pressed in the new frame, and ride back home.

Then, because I'd be ready to ride, I'd just head out for a "real" ride. It'd be my first ride in FIVE days.


So I got TsunamiOne ready, brought the frame out, got everything else ready for the ride (helmet cam, SRM, remember gloves, etc etc etc).

I got outside, closed the door, and though, aw, it's such a nice day I should take a picture.

TsunamiOne with TsunamiTwo draped over the bars.

I tried to get going but realized that I couldn't even get my feet clipped in while holding the frame in one hand.

I puzzled over this for a bit and thought of a solution - wear the frame!

(This relates to an old Reader's Digest story where security prevented a passenger from boarding a plane with a lamp shade. Obviously the shade was very fragile and it'd be best to bring it onboard. Problem was the lampshade was a "carry on item" and the person already had one plus a personal one. Turned away, the passenger walked off. A few minutes later the passenger was at the front of the line again. This time the passenger was wearing a hat that resembled a lampshade. The passenger, and the lampshade, got on the plane.)

I tried to put the frame over my head but the helmet didn't fit through the small main triangle. Removing the helmet let me stick my head through, and I put my helmet back on.

I had this morbid thought where a passing truck snags the frame by a drop out or something and decapitates me as it pulls away, but I pushed this out of my mind. I didn't need any decapitations today.

I got lost on the way to the shop and had to navigate by looking at the freeway that I knew went right behind the shop. I'd turned west when I should have gone east. Whatever. I got there.

I got to the shop, Mike the Mechanic (seriously, that's his name) said he'd do it while I wait.


It may have helped that the team kit has Trek and Bontrager on it, and it's a Trek Superstore.

(I should point out that I'm wearing version 2.0 of the kit, the Hincapie stuff. It totally rocks!)

Well whatever it was, he pressed the cups in and charged me a nominal fee. I padded the ticket by buying some energy bar stuff and a second Halo headband thing.

I got back to home base okay, dropped off the frame (no pictures), emptied out the stuff I got, ditched some of the cold weather gear I'd packed "just in case" (I was already hot and I just had a jersey and shorts on), found my long finger gloves (I try to wear them all the time), and headed out to the Pacific.

As in the Pacific Coast Highway.

I forgot how different it feels to ride outside versus the trainer. My glutes got tired right away, I tried to get aero a lot to beat the kind of strong wind, and... well, I worked hard.

My bike also felt small, like I dominated the bike. It's weird because it's set up how it was on the trainer, although I'd been trying a 13 cm stem recently and I built it with the 12 cm stem.

The saddle felt a bit low, giving me a lot of power lower in the pedal stroke. The bars seemed close, letting me really jump hard.

In fact a truck kind of obliged and let me test my jump and roll out. I ran out of juice after a while and the front wheel got a bit wiggly with the swirling wind behind the back tires. When I checked the ride data after the ride I could see why the front wheel, the Jet6, got a bit wiggly - I was going just under 52 mph.

My need for speed properly satiated, I focused on more mundane things.

A few more jumps let me get a feel for the bike once again. They also reminded me that the Jets accelerate slowly and require immense amounts of energy to jump "energetically".

For group rides I'll be using the Bastognes.

I rolled down the PCH past Cardiff on the Sea, out to where there's a Dog Beach (dogs allowed on the beach). I turned around there, just after two guys passed me (I was doing a lot of leg resting coasting and they kind of accidentally rolled by, then I had to ride kind of slow to avoid repassing them), and then headed back.

Of course the wind hit me pretty hard. Figures that I had a tailwind on the way out. But that was okay, I felt okay on the bike, surprisingly so. I rolled hard, focused on staying low, and realized that, once again, I felt more comfortable in the drops than on the hoods or tops.

I really like a bike that fits.

I rolled up to someone, tried not to pass, but eventually (after I stopped at two lights that the other rider ran), I decided I'd stop being polite. Look, the other rider was the one blowing the red lights. So I rolled by hard on one of the rises where all the surfers park, and he disappeared behind me.

When I stopped to swap the helmet cam battery, he rolled by just as I finished up. That was good - a few minutes gap in 15 minutes of riding.

At some point my legs just totally failed. No energy, no juice, and I spent a lot of time just stretching and stuff so I wouldn't have to pedal.

At one point, just before home, I did a trackstand (per usual) at a light. When I rolled away a CHiPs motorcycle guy said something to me. Since it wasn't "Hey, you!" or "Stop or I'll shoot" I kept rolling.

When I got about 30 feet away my brain finally processed what he'd said.

"Hey, nice trackstand!"

It was too late to acknowledge but it capped off a nice day. No decapitations, headset cups in frame, and I got a nice ride in.

Tomorrow, if things go as planned, I'll do one of the famous group rides in the area. Meet up with maybe a BikeForums rider or two. Hopefully not embarrass myself.

But first I need to eat. Oh yes. Eat.

California - Day 3 TsunamiTwo!

So, last night, finally, I got my TsunamiTwo frame. I'd started waiting at about 8 AM (the FedEx genie said the frame got on a truck at 7:10 AM).

I waited and waited and waited. I didn't dare do anything in case I missed the frame. I took the quickest shower in the world. I peed really fast. I didn't dare put myself in a situation where I'd be unavailable for 45 seconds and the FedEx guy would ring the doorbell, shrug, turn around, and walk back to his truck.

So I waited. And waited. And waited.

And finally, just before 5 PM, the doorbell rang.

I ran and opened it.

A guy in khaki slacks, white shirt, some brown/tan kind of tie, and fancy brown dress shoes looked at me.

I looked at him. Looked past him. FedEx truck. Looked back at him.

I started thinking, "FedEx really dresses up nowadays."

Then I thought maybe he was the driver's boss.

But then he asked for our host's daughter's friend.

Oh. It's her dad.

But what was the FedEx truck doing at the curb then?

I frowned, looking at the truck.

Watched a guy climbed out the back of the truck. He wore FedEx clothes. He had a big box in his hand.


I quickly opened the box, with my host's son's help (he quickly retrieved a pocket knife from somewhere, a bit worrying since he's all of 5 years old). He respected the knife though and stayed away from it once I started cutting tape.

The frame popped out pretty quickly.

It still smelled of paint. It's all good.

With a 5 year old's help the foam packing stuff came off.

Padding off.
Grubby fingerprints courtesy grubby fingered but very happy new owner.
Note spare dropout. Also note bare 5 year old boy's foot in right corner.

I didn't realize why the string was there until I noticed it went between the two cable housing holes in the top tube. I'll be running full length housing in the top tube. I hope I have enough Nokons to run them through from end to end.

The dropout is a nice touch from Joseph. Since I had it shipped a little closer to his shop, his shipping costs shrank. He included (at my request) a spare dropout rather than us having to deal with refunds and stuff. I wouldn't be able to use a few bucks but not having a dropout could be bad news.

What's nice is that the dropout fits the Missus's bike too. They're good dropouts, secured by a chainring bolt. You can tighten it pretty well and not worry about stripping some wimpy allen head.

One thing that's noticeable is the frame's narrow tubing.

It's not as apparent as on other frames because the frame is so small, meaning small in height. But it's still noticeable.

(Although I plan on running no cages I will probably install a couple... but ideally I want to run with just a CamelBak, for "aero-ness". Along those lines I dragged the HED Jet6 and Jet9 wheels to California so I could run a "full aero" bike.)

Two things stand out on the frame when I hold the frame, at least to me.

Cut out seat tube.
Note the small hole below the front derailleur mount - it's for the front derailleur cable.

The first is the aero seat tube with the cutout for the tire. It's very nicely finished, any welds finished off smoothly and cleanly. I didn't expect that to be the case so I felt pleasantly surprised when I saw the smooth edges.

The second thing is the integrated seat post (ISP). It's kind of integrated - it's an aero seat tube with a round section of seat tube fit into the top of the front of the tube up front. It's welded in place with the welds so smoothly filed down that I couldn't tell where one tube ended and the next started.

There is a ridge where the seat tube ends, but for me that's just a character ridge. It's the ridge a few inches down from the top that runs around the front part of the seat tube.

I never thought of myself as an ISP type of owner, but when given the option by Joseph, I decided, what the heck. I decided to go with it.

The plan will be to have about 2.5 cm of post showing above the collar. I'd have a lot of room to drop the saddle if I got a sleek railed saddle, a short height clamp post, or even a low foot-to-axle pedal height.

Or all of the above.

If I go back to a 170 mm crank (I have no idea why I'd do that) then I'd raise it a bit.

I'd like to see if the collar from the Specialized frame will fit - it's Ti with a ti/aluminum nut/bolt. The ti collar would be a bit more sleek, if memory serves me correctly.

Ultimately, if this works out, and if Joseph can source an efficient tapered head tube with a 1.25" lower steerer tube, I'll be very aggressive with the next ISP. I'll run it within a few mm of the top of the usable post.

One big debate is what to do about a post. I don't want to have a full 400mm post in the integrated post area, so I'll cut a post down to minimal size. I decided when packing TsunamiOne that I'd cut the post on that bike - it's a full length post, not a 250mm post or whatever the shorter ones measure. There was a good 5 inches in my seat tube on the regular frame. There's a lot of post I don't need, so I'll be cutting my precious Thomson post later.

The integrated seat post.

A slightly different look at the seat tube.

You can see that it extends back between the chainstays.

Braze on front derailleur mount. Forces me to move away from an N-Gear Jumpstop.

I'd discussed the aero cable situation with Joseph during the planning phase. I knew how he'd approach the bottom of the downtube, but I didn't have solutions in place for the cables after that. Joseph had some creative ideas.

Note the open bit of downtube to the right.
There's also an open bit of seat tube to the left.

Joseph's solution? He brazed things so that there'd be a section of open tubing at the bottom of the seat tube (as well as the down tube). The cables come out the downtube, into the BB guide, and then head up into the seat tube (for the front derailleur) and out to the normal cable housing stop for the rear derailleur.

The cable entry points are nice and subtle. String hanging out of the top tube one.

The speckly paint is due to the pearl black. It's nice but doesn't like flashes.

A slightly better picture, this time of the right side.

You get an idea of the pearl vs speckle feel, meaning the paint is really black with a pearl coat, not a gritty dirty black frame.

A no flash shot. The bike looks "black".

Without a flash the pearl hides. The frame looks like it looks like in person. The pearl just glistens in the light. In the sun it ought to be great.

The BB30 shell is clean of any paint, ready for bearings.

Before I do anything I'll trial fit the wheels. Once I check that I'll go ahead and put in the BB30 bearings. I'm going to pay a shop to install the headset, then cut the fork myself. I'll be aggressive and cut it down to the bare minimum, just enough for the stem to grab. No spacer like the other fork (I didn't want to cut the fork in case I put it back in the aluminum Giant TCR, the frame that donated its Reynolds fork to the Tsunami.)

Then comes the commitment - I'll have to strip the TsunamiOne of its parts to build TsunamiTwo.

(I may start calling them T1 and T2 as typing it all out is a pain...)

The commitment comes from the fact that for a short time I won't have a bike to ride. Based on when I get the frame back I may do this Saturday or Sunday. By Monday I should be on T2.

At some point I weighed the frame. 1680 grams. 3.7 lbs. It's not the lightest but it's fine. It's about 500 grams (1.1 lbs) heavier than the Cannondale SystemSix, the lightest bike I ever had (15.5 lbs with tubulars). Since the components will be virtually identical to the SystemSix - they have to be since they came off that bike - I'm curious to see how the weight compares with the fork (should be light) and a cut down post.

If the bike gets under 17 lbs with tubulars it'll be close to the TsunamiOne. I'm thinking about this one saddle, I've used it before, it's about 100g lighter than the current one, about 0.2 lbs. I could go with the heat treated crit bars, also 100g lighter than the current bars I have.

That would be another 0.2 lbs.

Ugh. You can do this with almost any bike you have. I have to stop.

But I do own the heat treated crit bars, they're sitting at home. Maybe I'll do that later.

I've spent two days in California and have ridden, oh, maybe a quarter mile. I have some work to do.

Till then, ta ta.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

California - Day 2 Tsunami2 Frame

So I spent a lot of the day anxiously waiting for the Tsunami2 frame. In the meantime I started gathering the parts I'd brought here to SoCal to help complete the bike. I'd stowed them in various checked bags, distributing the weight and "dangerousness" so I wouldn't get charged (money or legally).

The easy one was the fork.

The 3T fork.

I thought I'd be packing it in my bodybag duffle but the bodybag was made for little kid-sized bodies. The fork box, with the uncut steerer, wouldn't fit.

Of course once I cut it down to the right size it'll practically fit in my laptop bag. But it's not cut and therefore I had to put it in my bike bag.

Except for the poor box design (which forces you to practically rip the box a bit when you open it... maybe that's intentional), the fork looks, well, confidence-inspiring.

The Missus balked a bit when I pointed out that the fork cost me half again as much as the frame. I explained that I thought about it a bit while on the trainer. I'll be descending down some big descent, chin tucked in just over the front tire, 55 or 60 mph, and I'll hit a bump. Or need to brake hard.

And I thought about what kind of fork I wanted under my chin. Would I feel okay if I had a $200 cheaper fork?

Would I trust a fork that wasn't designed by an F1 carbon fiber engineer?

(You need to picture me standing on one leg, the other leg up in the air per a "tuck", both hands holding the center of an imaginary bar, with my head held low, chin down, over an imaginary front wheel. Apparently it made an amusing sight because it elicited giggles when I explained it this way.)

The fork has very slim aero blades.
It also came with some very cool stickers.
Most importantly it inspires confidence. And I haven't even ridden it yet.

Clockwise from top left:
Iodine C headset; Contour battery; Park fork cutting guide; Ritchey 120mm 73 deg stem; blade to cut carbon fiber steerer tubes; Nokon housings.
Note also the bike scale in the top right (black item with LCD screen and buttons).

The rest of the parts took a bit more treasure hunting. Between the two big bags I managed to squirrel away everything. I imagine I'll find a couple more things, like the Contour battery charger (it's here somewhere), a front chain guard, and other things I'm sure that have slipped my mind.

I didn't find the bar tape till later (Cinelli white cork, Bontrager black fake cork) but I have two choices for myself. I couldn't find my white Titanio so I'll probably be using the black tape.

Oh... and I found more stuff.

Clockwise from top left:
K-Edge front chain guard; top and side "access" Specialized bottle cages; Contour battery charger (and battery); a bunch of extra Nokon segments; BB30 bearings and such.

I think that finalizes most of the stuff for the Tsunami2.

Now for the frame. Where the heck is it?