Freewheel and Determination
A report from Kent Peterson’s bike commuting diary
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Tuesday February 27, 1996
Seattle, Washington
Another mostly clear and cool morning. I left the house at 6:48, so it was fairly light out. On the downside, more cars were out. The temperature was around thirty and for the first few minutes of the ride through Issaquah. I
was thinking a balaclava would be nice, then I started thinking that some baklava would be nice and then I warmed up and mostly forgot about the cold.
On Newport Way, my bike missed a shift. This is very unusual, normally the shifts are super crisp, but this time as I was shifting to the biggest cog on the back (OK, I’m a wimp, but hey, my biggest cog is only a 21, so I’m not that
much of a wimp) WHAM! the chain climbs into the spokes. “Balzac!” I say as I grind to a halt. (I’m working on improving my language so I’m trying to replace some of my more common expletives with the names of various writers.)
I put the chain back in place and start to pedal. My first thought is that the cold has changed the derailleur alignment, but as I’m pedalling and watching my drivetrain, I notice that the freewheel seems to be having
trouble. It doesn’t seem to be doing it’s freewheel thing. It looks like it’s catching and forcing chain upward toward the front sprocket if I try to coast. Maybe the cold is making the pawls sticky. Maybe the fact that
I haven’t done anything to this freewheel since the Bush administration has something to do with it.
I press on. I move from the mostly uphill Newport section of the ride to the mostly downhill section through Eastgate. Whenever I attempt to coast, my bike makes a frightening Erector-set-in-a-blender sound. I pedal a lot.
I come down Honda Hill with enough RPMs to make a Barry White LP sound like a chipmunk on espresso.
I figure out that I can coast a little and I ease to a stop at the red light at the bottom of the hill. I need a plan. I figure I’ll make it on to the bikepath that goes alongside and under the freeway. There I’ll be able to
pull the bike apart with out having to worry about cars turning me into a road waffle and then I’m sure I’ll think of something. I ride onto the path, still doing the pseudo-fixed-gear thing. By the way, it seems ironic to think
of this as a fixed gear when I’m riding like this because my gear is clearly broken, but that’s a discussion for another day. I ride up to the Bellevue Slough where I remember there is a nice bench along side the trail. I ease to
a stop, flip the bike over and take a look at the freewheel. It looks real wobbly. I flip the quick release and remove the wheel. The freewheel falls free and bunch of tiny little ball bearings go bouncing away.
“Montaigne Falkner!” I cry as I watch the bearings go. It looks like the lock ring has decided it was getting tired of being so uptight. Things don’t look very field repairable. My freewheel is now a useless hunk of
Steinbeck. I realize that I’m very close to the Bellevue bus stop. The rational thing to do would be to walk the bike up there and catch the bus into work.
Rationality is for weenies. I’m riding to work and taking the bus would be admitting defeat. I pick up as many bearings as I can find and smoosh my freewheel back together. The bike frame and the quick release hold everything
together in a kind of half-Asimov fashion. I do some test pedaling. I now have zero ability to freewheel. My derailleur gives me a little slack but I really can’t shift around much on the rear cluster. I settle the chain of the 17 tooth cog and determine I can shift between the 52 and the 40 rings without any real problems. The one thing I can’t do is coast.
I climb up to Mercer Island without incident. I ride across the park, shift into the big ring and blast onto the bridge across Lake Washington. The Mercer Island bridge is fine ’cause it’s mostly as flat as the water it floats on.
I climb up off the bridge and through the tunnel. Now comes the real test: city riding.
Uphills are fine, downhills are strange because I have to keep pedaling while I’m braking to keep the chain from getting all bunched up. Every light I stop at reminds me that I need more practice at locking my foot into a
rotating toe clip. When you can coast, everything is so easy. Even a real fixed gear would be better because I would be able to apply back pressure with my legs to slow down. This is like driving a car stuck in third without
a clutch and the gas pedal and brakes welded together.
I pedal though every turn, jockey around at every light. I keep expecting my freewheel to explode into atoms at any second, but it doesn’t. I find I can take all the hills in a 40 x 17. My brakes get quite a workout. I’ve been going slow and I know I lost quite a bit of time fiddling with the bike back in Bellevue.
At 8:33 I pull up at the espresso stand by my office. I made it! An hour forty-five for my normal hour and twenty trip, but hey, I made it!
After my morning coffee, I recount my tale of woe to my nice boss who says “Sure, take your bike up to the shop to get it worked on.” So as soon as the shop opens I wheel my bike up to the Velo Store on the corner of Pine
and 11th. This is one of the stores that at least still recognises a road bike when they see one. I find that freewheels should be called somthing like $50-wheels, ’cause that’s what a nice Sachs freewheel will cost. The
mechanic recounts Suntour freewheel failure stories and besides who has Suntour parts anymore. I don’t want the latest Shimano stuff and I know they don’t need my money. Sachs it is. I have a talk with the mechanic about
commuting and he assures me my bike will be ready by five.
I go back to the office and do the usual work stuff until it’s time to go home. I leave work at 5:00, go up to the shop and they are true to their word. My bike is all ready to go. The freewheel was $50, 6.50 for the labor plus some
tax. I put the $61.12 on my VISA card. I slap my bag on the rack and set up the lights. I leave the store at 5:20. It’s still fairly cool out and the trip home is refreshingly uneventful. I revel in my refound ability to
coast.
The new freewheel has the same gears as my trashed Suntour: My old chain doesn’t mesh super well with the new freewheel, but it’s good enough to get home. I have a Sachs chain I’d been meaning to put on, so when I
get home I give my bike some overdue attention and a nice new chain.
Now I could have gotten the freewheel for ten or twenty dollars less from Rivendell or Nashbar, but neither of those folks would have been able to get me back on the road in time for supper.
Tomorrow, I get to do this all again.
