Folded, Spindled and Mutilated: My Foray Into Collapsible Bicycles

I've become a big fan of the multi-mode commute, using the combination of train and bicycle to get myself to far off points in Hunterdon County with minimal fuss and inconvenience. The rail line would often take me within a few miles of where I needed to go, and the bicycle would let cover those last couple miles with ease. Additionally, for the frequent occasions when a return train wasn't available, I could ride the rail out, then bike the 20-30 miles home pretty easily.
However, NJ Transit recently updated its policy to make it pretty difficult to bring a full-size bike on a train. Bicycles are only allowed on and off at high-level platforms, which includes exactly none of the stations I frequent. Now, I'm reasonably healthy and can walk or jog two or three miles from the station to my eventual destination, but for those late-night assignments I was faced with the choice of walking 20 miles home, hiring a cab or sleeping at the (outdoor) station until the 6 a.m. train.
Fortunately the rules still permit "collapsible bicycles" (and furthermore, collapsible - or folding bikes as they're more commonly called - are allowed on even during peak hours. Regular bikes are not). Unfortunately, I'm pretty much broke, and while there are some brilliantly designed folding commuter bikes out there, I can't afford a single one of them. Fortunately, I'm pretty handy at fixing up bicycles, so when the option to buy a used Raleigh Twenty came up, I jumped on it.
The bike, as I recieved it, was in pretty good shape, but needed a bit of work. There were some bearing and clamp issues, and while it was pretty rideable, a compulsive tinkerer like myself couldn't leave it at "pretty good".

Within five minutes of paying for it, I'd already customized it - I added a cupholder.

The primary concerns I had were the length of the seatpost (I'm 6'3", I needed a couple inches more to get proper pedal extension), the chromed steel rims which were heavy and provided very poor wet-weather braking, the headset which used a plastic bushing instead of top bearings and mismatched handlebars and stem.
The first step was to replace the stem and bars with some mountain bike parts I had lying around

I also swapped the saddle for a Rido that had been given to me by my friend Neil, and swapped out the front fender (which had a broken mount) for a carbon fiber recumbent fender from my buddy Dave's parts box

 

You better believe I kept the cup holder though (also donated by Neil)

I found a junker kids bike with 20" rims, which I pulled off and laced to the existing hubs. The front hub of the Raleigh has an unusual spacing (91mm rather than the now-common 100mm) and the rear hub was the three-speed unit, so I obviously wanted to hang onto that. Small wheels are pretty forgiving, and since I'm strapped for cash, I re-used the old spokes. They fit pretty well, but on the rear hub I they were juuuust a bit too long.

Mr. Dremel says "no problem."

By this point, the bike was working pretty well. I scavenged a new top headset cup from that donor kids bike, and used the fork crown race and some spacers to create a working upper headset bearing. I was still waiting for a new seatpost, which I'd ordered through Garden State Bicycle, so the bike was a bit short for me.

I did take it for some short rides, and even one train commute, where I could test out it's foldability

And finally the new seatpost (400mm) came in, which, with the addition of a stem riser made for a pretty comfortable ride.

Once I got all the componentry together, I took it for a leisurely shakedown ride on the D&R Towpath between my home in South Bound Brook and my friend's place in Highland Park, about an 8-mile total trip. I figured it would make for an interesting test of handling, because the canal path had been washed out during Hurricane Irene and is currently fairly rough and rocky. The Twenty behaved predictably, and was comfortable and stable to ride, if not as fast as my 700c-wheeled commuter bike. The folding mechanism on the Twenty is a bit different from the hinge on many modern folding bikes (Dahon etc), the frame is interrupted in the middle of the main tube by a pair of angled plates, which swivel around a thick bolt and are held in place by an L-bolt. The connection seems very strong and stiff, and, although the bike doesn't fold up nearly as compactly or as quickly as some of the modern folding bikes, it's quick enough and becomes a small enough bundle for a big guy like me to easily carry onto a train (and is, in fact, far smaller than some of the luggage I see folks carrying). Most importantly, though, from my perspective, is that because of the stiff folding joint and the slightly longer wheelbase, the bike rides more like a full-size city bike than many of the other small-wheel bikes I've tried.

The "Cracks of Doom" at Landing Lane Bridge in New Brunswick, I had to get off and walk the Twenty across, but I've had to walk everything except for an actual mountain bike across here. It's a good fishing spot though. 

Once I was confident the bike would handle some real riding, I took it on a freelance assignement. I took the train out to cover a municipal meeting, clipped on my Niterider headlight, and rode home through about 20 miles of mostly rural back roads. It's not the perfect do-everything bike, but after spending a good hour and a half on it, I can say it's a pretty good utility bike, and with it's small size, comfortable riding position and ability to fold might turn out to be a fantastic bike for travel that involves some leisurely sightseeing or even some day tours (that don't involve major hills). I can think of some definite modifications I'd want to make in the future, including better grips (possibly with bar ends for a secondary hand position), newer tires and some general overhauling, but for a modest investment in time and money, this is a great bike.

Better Than Fiction: Around the World on a Bicycle

There's a whole class of literature these days dedicated to fictional adventures set in the Victorian age. The period is certainly fertile ground for imaginary adventures, global communications and travel were just becoming reality, yet there were plenty of blank spots on the map where European feet - in some cases any human feet - had yet to tread. At the same time, steam power, electricity and heavy industry were bringing rapid changes across the develped world.

During the period authors like Jules Verne and H.G. Wells were looking at the possibilities inherent in the new technology of the day, while more than a century later, modern science fiction authors look back to the period and imagine how that same world of steam and gears might have evolved into an analog analogue of our digital 21st Century society.

But at the same time, there was no shortage of actual adventure, as evidenced by the travel writings of Thomas Stevens.  In 1884 Stevens, who was born in England but had been living and working in the Western United States, packed a small bag of clothes, some rain gear and a Smith & Wesson revolver and set out to ride his new bicycle around the world.

The Columbia high-wheel bicycle he was riding was the latest innovation and was a triumph of Yankee engineering. The idea of connecting the cranks to the rear wheel with a chain drive was still several years in the future, but with its 50-inch-tall front wheel and solid rubber tires it rolled much faster and more smoothly than the boneshakers that were the former pinnacle of human-powered transport.

Stevens started out in California in April and traveled along railroad routes, canal towpaths, public roads and wagon trails across the country until arriving in Boston 3,000 miles and almost four months later. The American West in the 1880s was still pretty wild, and he could travel an entire day without seeing another soul, and when he DID reach a town or ranch (usually a full day's travel apart) he ran into some fairly eccentric characters. Often the ground was so uneven he found himself walking about a third of his daily miles. After crossing the plains, though, he found himself in more and more settled territory (and on better and better roads) until he hit the Big City in August.

After he become the first person to cycle across America, Outing magazing took notice and hired Stevens as a correspondent, and helped fund his travels from that point on in return for travel reports from abroad. He sailed to England by steamship the next spring and set out from London in April of 1885.

From London he crossed to the continent by steamer and traveled through Europe to the Middle East, wintering in Tehran and, after several misadventures false starts, set out across Asia, finally reaching Yokohama, Japan in December of 1886, having traveled more than 13,000 miles riding (and occasionally pushing) his bicycle.

The distance and difficulty alone are impressive, but better still were his observations about the people he met along the way. The bicycle, which today is one of the most popular forms of transport in the world, was a novelty at the time, so he often found himself treated as a sideshow performer, constantly being asked to demonstrate how it was possible to ride this strange contraption. Many passers-by regarded it as almost magical that a machine which couldn't stand unsupported could carry a person at the same speed as a horse.

It's also quite amusing to read Stevens' accounts of all the local merchants and self-appointed guides, in various countries and languages, who would try to swindle the "English Tourist" for as much money as they could get for their often dubious services - a complaint which is familiar from many modern travel writers.

Stevens was threatened a few times, almost robbed a few more, and run out of town at least once in his travels, but he never had to fire his revolver at another person, and often traveled through some of the most "dangerous" territories in the world at the time as an honored guest of the locals (although, perhaps not surprisingly, he was unable to safely cross Afghanistan, which was a tragic mess even then).

It's a long book, collected in two volumes, and takes quite a while to get through, but it's worth reading if you've ever dreamed of setting out under your own power, by foot, by boat or -of course - by bike and seeing just how far you could go.

Around the World on a Bicycle is available in paperback from your local bookseller or in digital form from Project Gutenberg