Dutch Bike Co Weblog

While we've lost count of the classic bikes we've repaired and restored here at the shop, our sense of wonder at the unusual and beautiful products of the last century is far from dead. When this 1959 Apollo rolled through the door, we realized early on that under all the surface corrosion and cracking rubber we'd find a gem. Some might call it an antique, but this classy old roadster has a new lease on life and a new chance to get out there onto the pavement. We had a great time working on it, and thought we'd share a little!

A shot of the bike before any work was done.

Steel wool, if you didn't know, is excellent at removing corrosion from chrome.

Left = pre-polishing, right = post-polishing.  So shiny!

The finished product.

Check out those sweet rod-actuated stirrup brakes.

They really don't make them like they used to.

Time and leather treatment and more time.

Shiny means smooth braking.

So clean you can see me in it!

I’ll admit it.  I’m a little jealous that Seattle gets a Snowpocalypse before Chicago does.  I take pride in my city’s brutal winters.  So now that Seattle has had its fun it’s finally Chicago’s turn to play in the snow.  And while Fritz may happily snip zip ties off his bike now that things are back to normal over there I’ve got three inches of snow on the ground and more on the way.  In a matter of days the plows will shove all the snow in the valuable lanes of pavement I like to ride in, and soon after that all that snow will be compacted into something far more slippery than snow.  So, sure, Seattle gets “battered” once or twice every year, but what about real winter? 

What about many sub zero days, lots of scorching cold winds, the possibility of frost bite, snow, ice, more snow, more ice, and the inevitable lake effect misery that is the reality for all us crazy Midwestern winter riders?  What good is a bike commute if every time I swerve to avoid a collapsed catch basin or perilous pot hole, I lose traction and end up a pile of painful person underneath my bike?   Anyone who has attempted to ride down the lakeshore path will know what it’s like to see the sheen of a vast expanse of ice ahead.  When I was younger and I rode my 1977 Trek TX550 through such conditions, I just barreled through and braced for what I knew was going to be a couple of very uncomfortable moments.  But that was back when I trusted my patellae wouldn’t shatter upon impact, before I had any sort of thoughts that some injuries are more than just annoying to walk away from and some pain is too great to ignore. 

Anyway, what do we do about the dangers of an entire winter of ice and snow?

The Answer is studded tires.

These are the Schwalbe Marathon Winters I like to use.  (and that’s Chris in the background)

These things are great.  Greater, I might argue, than the zip tie snow chains.  And I might argue this because, well, I’m a bit too classy to be uglifying my stately Dutch bike with silly little zip ties.  (Kudos to you, Fritz, for choosing such a bright and safe color for your snow chains.  Safety first!) Seriously though, if you plan on riding through an entire winter, the studs will save you just when you need saving.

Remember when Fritz boasted of his uncanny placement of the zip ties so that they bit into the ice while cornering?  That’s the whole idea behind the placement of the carbide studs in the Schwalbe Marathon Winters.  The studs are arranged so that when running at full pressure your tires will primarily be making contact with the road right in the middle, on the rubber.  When you start cornering, the studs will do their job.  Of course, when the roads do get totally nasty, and the ice and hard pack snow is everywhere, you might just want to lower the pressure and let the carbide studs do their thing all the time.  With the increases contact area of a soft tire, the studs give you way more traction. 

With 240 metal studs on 700cc tire I feel secure on my ride no matter what I roll over, I’ll keep my wheels underneath me.   They also have the Schwalbe standard reflective strip on the side wall which makes me feel not only bijster (very) European but also bijster visible. 

It’s true. You will sound like a swarm of bees when pedaling along dry clean pavement.  But the advantage when you need it is well worth the noise.  And when you arrive to work, or the bar, or back home again all in one piece, everyone will be very happy to see you.  

We’ve got the tires in stock now, and we’ll get just about any size you need.  Heck, I’ll even put them on free of charge.  That’s how much I care about your safety.

SNOWPOCALYPSE!

No matter how much we swear we've learned our lessons, Seattle always seems to get caught by surprise by the snow. There we were, minding our own business with our feet all toasty in our sandals and socks, when the temperature plummeted and it turned into Juneau in January. While this year the City did a much better job than last year at preventing widespread carnage and destruction, we at Dutch Bike Seattle still didn't bring in studded tires because it never snows in Seattle. Even if we had stocked them, I'm not sure they'd sell because it never snows in Seattle, right?

We found something else, though. Something else entirely.

You're not going to believe it at first.

It's quick, it's cheap, and yes, it looks completely ludicrous.

BUT. It works. It works beautifully.

I can accelerate, brake, and corner with aplomb, even on the vile snowpack/sheet ice mix the plows leave in the bike lanes. The zip ties dig nicely into the hardest packed surfaces, but they're thin enough not to bounce the bike around at low speed or on short pavement sections.

I've cunningly positioned the tie heads to dig in as soon as the bike goes into a corner while staying up and off the ground in a straight line. This is the place that the ties are most likely to interfere with the fenders, so if you're installing these yourself be careful to make sure you have or can create the clearance.

It is at this point that I must admit that I didn't dream up this amazing technique. It pains me to admit this not because my ego suffers, but because the zip-tie-DIY-bicycle-snow-chains idea appears to have originated with my favorite bicycle industry whipping boy: fixed gear hipster culture. Several years ago, I'm sure, some bright child with extremely tight pants and an asymmetrical haircut had a genius-caliber idea, and I hate that it wasn't me. So here it is: Fixed gear street bike hipster guys, I'm sorry for the things I've said over the years. It's not true that the only drink you like is 4Loko. It's also not true that you're not allowed to wear shoes that don't match your bikes. You can wear whatever you want. And finally, you have come up with a good idea besides brightly colored deep-section rims.

Fall is here!  Which means, for those of us living here in Seattle, rain.  A lot of rain.  Driving rain.  Endless driving rain.  I’m pretty sure that last November it actually rained every day.  However, any experienced Northwestern cyclist can tell you that the best way to combat the crushing depression of the winter months (other than maybe buying a SAD lamp) is to keep riding your bike!  And what this means, is fenders. 

There are many different types of fenders.  Because I insist on riding completely impractical bikes, my only option are the clip on, or “fairly ineffective,” type of fenders.

These fenders are convenient because they simply clip on to the seat stays and fork blades of the bike, and don't need any eyelets or mounting hardware.  They’re inconvenient because they don’t really work very well, and as a result my bike is always dirty

and my feet are always wet and sad.

So, despite the more involved mounting process, full fenders are a better option.  They provide much greater coverage, which is great for your bike because it keeps it clean, prolonging the life of your components, and great for you because it keeps you more dry, prolonging the life of your ride.  A great example of full fenders are the ones that Fritz has on his bike.  Look at that clean bike!

And look at those happy feet!

“But wait!” you might say.  “I ride a racy road bike! I don’t have room for fenders! Or eyelets!”  Not to worry!  Both Fritz and myself have extensive experience putting together custom fenders to fit on even the most race-oriented carbon fiber speed machine.  There are several ways we can do this, but our most common method is to actually fabricate some mounts out of rack struts (thin, rectangular pieces of steel) and use these to clear the tight spaces in between the tires and brake calipers.  In the case of bikes without eyelets, we can use different types of clamps to keep the fender stays attached to the frame.

So why wait! Get some fenders! Keep your feet dry!

We've carried bikes from Linus for more than six months now, and in that time we've sent a surprising number of the little guys and gals out into the world in both Chicago and Seattle. It's been a pleasure to see them locked to bike racks downtown in the Loop , rolling down the Burke Gilman, and hanging from the chain link outside bars on Capitol Hill in Seattle. I've seen them used for commuters, bar bikes, kid haulers, and “couples' cycling incentives.” Just as Linus riders seem to have discovered the versatility of the design, we've had a great time expanding the capabilities of the bikes themselves. Here are a pair of the projects Alex and I have set up with some of the bikes. We've had a huge amount of fun thinking up ways to keep the Linus style undiluted while adding function and some new ways to ride!  If you cold winter riders are  looking to set up your Linus, Chicago Schwinn or  Raleigh with a similar light set-up ask us about the Schwalbe studded tires for winter riding.  

Classic headlight, classic tire generator, classic Roadster 3, and a nice warm yellow halogen beam.

Live on the top of a monster hill? The SRAM i-Motion 9 hub nearly triples the gear range of this Dutchi.

Dream it up and your Linus can probably do it.

Just thought everyone might like to know what happens when Dutch Bike Chicago heads over to Dutch Bike Seattle. Watch until the end to see who forms the head.  Who is that guy?

We've been repairing, maintaining, and upgrading all types of bikes here at Dutch Bike since day one, because while we love the somewhat exotic (here in the US, at least) mechanical aspects of the bikes we import, one of our core beliefs is that the best bike is the bike that you ride, whatever it is. Whether we're installing custom fenders on your 90's Bianchi racer or overhauling your 1976 Schwinn cruiser, we love keeping bikes on the road.

Particularly in the past two or three years, I've seen a massive upswing in the numbers of bikes being brought out of storage, bought used, or restored for everyday use. All types of reasons – economic, practical, or ethical – bring these faithful steeds back into harness, but my favorite of all is that it just seems to have become cool. With increasing numbers of bicycles on the road – many of them seeing their second tour of duty – every shop is seeing an increase in repair traffic and, more relevantly, more people are becoming acquainted with the world of bike repair.

For many, getting a bike repaired can be even more intimidating than “taking the car in.” I will be the first to admit that bicycle service shops do not have a stellar reputation for friendliness or customer service, and even though a bike is less complex than a car it can still be an opaque and mysterious opponent when it's not working properly. For these very good reasons, a large number of my service customers don't come to the shop for anything as specific as wheel truing or derailleur hanger alignment, but rather for a general tune-up. It might be every few hundred miles or every few years, depending on where and how you ride, how your bike is designed, and how it's stored and cared for. Whether your mechanic calls it a “tune-up” or a “general service” or a “maintenance package,” the basic idea is the same: make my bike work so I can keep riding it. You drop your tired, creaky steed at the shop, and a day or two later you pick it up shiny and ready for another ride. What actually happens to the bike, though?

As you've seen in previous posts, I enjoy few things more than deflating the fear and mystery around the technical side of bicycles, and so today we'll walk through exactly what goes on during a tune-up. Different tune-ups will include a variety of different operations (wheel truing, adjustment, part replacement, etc.), and different shops will provide a sometimes bewildering variety of options and levels of detail. The tune-up you'll see here is our “Comprehensive,” usually best for older bikes or commuters with medium to high mileage. If the bike requires less I'll suggest a less in-depth “Standard” or “Basic,” or simply perform a few adjustments a la carte.

First, I'll remove the wheels to make cleaning the bike easier and because I'll be working on them individually later. I'll spray and wipe down the frame and components with a weak cleaning solution (I like Simple Green), because it's much more pleasant to work on a clean bike.

Now for the wheels: cleaning first, then truing and balancing spoke tension.

Next I'll open the hubs to check the bearings and inject fresh grease. When I put them back together, I'll be sure to adjust them so that they'll spin smoothly when they're installed.

Back on the bike, I'll do the same to the headset and bottom bracket bearings if they can be serviced. Before I reinstall the wheels, I'll sand and pick debris out of the brake pads for stronger and quieter braking.

Now that the pads are clean and grippy, I'll adjust the pad position and spring tension of the brakes so they'll work powerfully, quietly, and drag-free.

With the brakes “dialed,” I'll move on to the derailleurs; adjusting the cable tension and limit screws, and the position of the derailleurs themselves to optimize the speed, smoothness, and above all the accuracy of each gear change.

Finally, I'll check the tire inflation and take the bike for a test ride to make sure everything is working perfectly!

As you can see, there's no mystery and no magic here, but the proper tune-up should have your bike riding like new – or at least close to it – and keep you going for plenty of rides. Having your bike tuned may not be the most glamorous, but the cumulative positive effects of a smoothly functioning bike can be far-reaching!

Some of us bought our bikes because we wanted to be mobile. Some because we find them so very pretty. Some because they're so comfortable. For whatever reason you purchased your Dutch- or Dutch-type bike, if you got even a reasonable imitation of one you benefit from how little they demand in terms of maintenance. In previous posts we've walked through repair operations that you (or your trusted mechanic) might have run into in the course of owning the bike (tire and tube repair, shifter troubleshooting, etc). In this post, I'll walk through a large component of simply caring for your bike: lubrication.

In many ways, the chaincase defines the proper city bike. It makes them compatible with any wardrobe, and it's one of the main reasons why these bikes essentially don't have to be treated like a bike. They can be left outside in the rain and snow (and salt, if you're our Chicago shop bakfiets) every night of their lives, and won't punish you for it. That said, since your bike can last your lifetime, you'll want to take care of it to the minor extent it requires. Chain lubrication won't quite be your most frequent maintenance operation, but it's extremely easy and takes very little time. Once every nine months will be enough under even the most adverse conditions.

First you'll want to pick a chain lubricant. The thicker and stickier a lube is, the longer it will protect the chain, but stickiness attracts dirt. This leads to a constant dilemma when maintaining an exposed drivetrain; balancing how much grime covers my drivetrain and legs with how quickly my lube washes off when I ride in the rain or mud. Because the conditions inside a chaincase are so much cleaner and drier than the world outside, we can get away with using an extremely sticky, persistent lube that would attract a large amount of dirt and grime were it exposed. It will take a little longer to soak into the spaces inside the chain links (the only area where it actually does anything), but since we're only doing it once a year or so...that's okay. On a city bike, the tiny, tiny bit of extra drag introduced by a heavier lubricant will be imperceptible to even the most sensitive rider. For the most persistence, I recommend Finish Line Wet; a heavy, sticky synthetic formulated to stick to exposed chains through the nastiest conditions. It's also a beautiful shade of dark green. Dumonde Tech Original (the blue one) can be a fair substitute. Inside a chaincase, you can expect a heavy application of one of these lubes to last most of a year!

Lighter lubricants are just fine, but won't last quite as long or protect as thoroughly. That said, lighter oils and oil suspensions like good old Tri-Flow or Dumonde Tech Lite (the yellow one) can be quite useful for lubricating and providing a water barrier for your cables. Spending a few minutes letting the handy principle of capillary action pull drops of well-shaken Tri-Flow into your cable housing can not only substantially reduce drag and improve performance, but when applied thoroughly enough can also prevent the unfortunate wintertime disorder known as “Chicago cable freeze.”

Isn't physics great?

While they have some handy benefits, wax-based formulas and solvent-suspension “dry” lubes don't have much of an application on the mechanical systems of your city bike. Because they don't protect the chain as effectively, and because their dirt-shedding properties aren't necessary within the protected environment of the chaincase, wax lubes shouldn't be used. Neither type will work at all well within cable housing, so best to save them for your sporty bikes...if you must use wax at all.

Once you've chosen your formula, all that's left is applying it! The vast majority of you won't need any tools for this, except you bakfiets and Secret Service owners. You'll need a one euro coin, large flathead screwdriver, or other prying device to encourage the lower rear section of your plastic chaincase to pop loose.

All you with fabric chaincases need do is simply unsnap the snap.

Now that your chaincase is open, you can inspect your chain's lubrication and tension (refer to the rough guide in the last post for tension). If you cannot see lubricant on the chain – or if you see any corrosion – you should apply some. Nose the dropper tip or extended straw/noodle of your bottle into the chaincase until it's just touching the rollers on the inside of the chain.  Carefully spin the pedals backward while gently squeezing the bottle enough to run a bead of lubricant along the chain, letting it soak into the spaces within the chain and coat the moving parts.

Continue this process until your chain is thoroughly soaked in lube. Congratulations, you've lubed your chain! This would also be a good moment to lubricate the shifter cable as it leaves the housing.

Close up your chaincase, and you're finished!

As you may have guessed, we love some internally geared hubs here at Dutch Bike Co.  We love the smooth shifting, the quiet operation, and the simplicity of use.  From the shop perspective, I enjoy knowing that our bikes are out there being ridden and loved - not worked on.
 
More than any other drivetrain, an 8 speed hub really doesn't require its user to be a "bike person."  An avid cyclist will certainly enjoy it -- as many of you have discovered for yourselves -- but anyone who can push the pedals will benefit equally from the utter simplicity and rock-like durability of this transmission.  Combine the system with a chaincase and in a year of riding you'll probably do no maintenance whatsoever.  You won't even have to wonder whether or not to feel guilty about it.

This brings us to the educational kernel nestled within this husk of a post: adjusting your Shimano Nexus hub.  At this point, you might reasonably grow apprehensive that I'll try to explain planetary gear systems, expose you to exploded views, or start talking about gear inches.  I won't.  Adjusting your hub is a simple and easy procedure that will likely take less than five minutes and won't get your hands very greasy at all.

Step One: Diagnosis
When I teach a repair class, this is typically the subject that receives the strongest emphasis.  Without understanding what's causing the problem, we can't fix it.  Bearing this firmly in mind, we'll quickly check the three main parts of the system: the shifter, the cable, and the cassette joint (I'll explain in a moment).  The cable will come first, because it's the simplest part of the system and -- relatively speaking -- the most vulnerable.  Around three out of four "mis-shifting" or "gear slipping" issues on our bikes have the same simple cause:



Here, the cable housing (the outer sheath) has been tugged out of the shifter, exposing the cable.  It has then caught on the edge of its proper place (the barrel adjuster) and failed to snap back in.  This 1/4" difference leaves the system totally out of whack.  The solution is even simpler than the problem: just nudge the end of the housing back into the barrel adjuster, and the tension already on the cable will do the rest, snapping it back into place.



If all is well so far, check over as much of the shifter cable housing as you can see for damage or kinks that could cause it to drag or bind.

Next, we'll move on to the cassette joint.  This is the little plastic unit on the side of the hub where the cable attaches, and that translates your pull on the cable into the actual gear change in the hub.  If you have a cloth chaincase (any Workcycle, Azor, or Jorg&Olif except Secret Service, Fr8, and Bakfiets) you'll need to open the back end just a little to see the cassette joint.  Unsnap the outside snap, then slide the clip out of the pockets on the inside.



Gently peel the rear section of the chaincase up and forward, and tuck it out of the way.



Now you'll be able to see the gray and black plastic cassette joint, and the little adjustment window with a yellow indicator line.  With a plastic chaincase you'll just be able to flex it inward slightly, and the view will be the same.



Now that you've ruled out problems with the cable, shift into fourth gear (you'll see a dot next to the number to tell you it's special) and check the yellow marks in the small window on the top of the cassette joint: if they line up, you're adjusted properly.  If they don't, then turn the adjuster on the shifter (with a couple of experimental turns to make sure of your direction) until they do.



...And you're done!  You've just done exactly what a good mechanic would have when confronted with Nexus hub "issues," and almost assuredly resolved them.  Take the bike for a quick test ride, and enjoy your perfect shifting.

It's been almost a year since I built and started flogging the strange hybrid beast that we named the Saison (a saison is a Belgian farmhouse beer style whose wild yeast strains produce a light body but strong earthy flavor).  The idea was to build a bike that could balance the toughness and "fuhgeddaboutit" maintenance interval of one of the Dutch bikes with the speed and acceleration of a modern American commuter.  Strong wheels, a strong frame, internally geared drivetrain, disc brakes, full fenders, and a comfortable riding position were required.  Add a few little extra touches for comfort (carbon bar and 28c Tserv tires) and style (gold Nokon brake housing and gold grips), and I was ready to go.

The Frame
Predictably, I couldn't let myself simply order a frame designed to do exactly what I intended for it (they exist).  Instead, I decided to use the wrong-est frame to build this multi-speed city bike: a single-speed mountain bike.  The Surly 1x1.  And yes, I am perfectly aware of the abject silliness of this premise.  That said, measure the actual radius of a 26" wheel with tire, and a 700c wheel with tire, and you'll find a surprisingly small difference.  Measure the wheel/tire clearance of a 1x1 and you'll run out of measuring tape; you could lose a medium-sized child in the depths of that gigantic rear triangle.  Even with tires half again the size there would be plenty of room for nice beefy fenders, too.
 


With tough steel tubes, convenient horizontal dropouts, and easily adjustable brake caliper mounts, the Surly would have been a fair bet even if it weren't super cheap.  And deep down, who doesn't want to ride "the thing that should not be"?

The Build
Lace up a wheelset: light-ish rims made for 29'er mountainbikes on a Shimano Alfine hub (the stealth-bomber version of the eight-speed hubs in our Workcycles bikes) and a mostly-matchy front hub, and slap them into the frame.



Throw on the rest of the parts.  Get a different crankset because the chainstays are so wide that the arms of the compact road crank I'd planned on using wouldn't even come close to clearing...wow.  Bend the fender stays and install spacers to clear the brake calipers.  Install lights on the brake bosses because they're just sitting there doing nothing.  Install the KitchenAid headbadge because this is supposed to be an appliance, right?

The Ride
The first impression of the ride is the quickness: even though it's a big bike with a wide bar, it feels very nimble and responsive.  You just point your shoulders and the bike zips that way.  It's difficult to sufficiently emphasize the nimble feel of the bike and the resulting confidence: the handling is so intuitive that maneuvers that would be nerve-wracking on a more conventional bike just happen naturally and with little fanfare.  The wheels and frame are highly rigid, and even with relatively big tires and the flex of the carbon handlebar the ride isn't Dutchbike-smooth, but it's not punishing.



The Alfine hub and shifter snap off quick, positive gear changes with almost no lag or interruption of power transfer.  The disc brakes (Avid BB7 calipers and Shimano XTR levers) offer a surfeit of power and smooth enough modulation to keep it under control, although after putting in the miles on our roller brake-equipped city bikes they feel surprisingly aggressive. 

The Year
Now, after a year of riding around Seattle, up and down stairs, through alleys, around parks and pump tracks, through street brawls and farmer's markets, and over every nasty piece of pavement and road debris I could find, I can actually evaluate the bike.  It has commuted, gone on dates, shopped, and pubcrawled.  It's been taken on countless test rides, and borrowed for extended periods.  Through it all the Saison has required very little of its rider in terms of either maintenance or even basic consideration.  After a few adjustments for break-in, the mechanical systems have functioned as close to flawlessly as any bike I've ridden.  A little chain lube every few weeks, and the occasional stack of batteries for the cheap blinky lights I can't seem to get around to replacing with a sexy generator setup.  It's not quite as impossibly maintenance-free as a Workcycles bike, but it's not too far off.

I can explain the experience of living with this bike best by calling it "enough."  It's tough enough that even through the year of abuse I've barely had to think about it, while remaining light enough to accelerate and climb with pizazz.  It's fast enough to really feel fast, and -- most important of all -- fun enough that I consistently want to ride it.  The best bike is, after all, the one that you ride.

Want one?
With a somewhat less extravagant component selection, you can have one for right around $1700.  We're custom building each one of these for the time being, so even though you're dodging the challenging "experimentation phase" of a project like this you can still have plenty of input on the specifics of your Saison.  An albatross bar, a Brooks B67 saddle and 38mm wide tires for a more "Dutch" feel?  A narrow cut-down riser bar and racy tires for tackling traffic?  A Workcycles Transport-style front cargo carrier?
No problem.  Have a tall, chilly glass of Saison.