Bikes

Greg's been a cyclist (albeit initially of the "tri" persuasion) since about age 3, graduating to "bi" by third grade, likely a bit sooner. (Third grade stands out solely by reason of a certain weaving-on-gravel incident involving concrete, skull, loss of skin, loss of consciousness...all that good stuff. Several decades later, Greg still has the scars. Kids, wear those helmets!)

Like perhaps most students, Greg continued riding throughout high school, college, and grad school. His first two bikes are now consigned to the dustbin of history, but he still has his third (1987 Schwinn Le Tour, a.k.a. "the truck," 18,163.4 miles), fourth (2002 GT ZR 5.0, a.k.a. "the sports car," 19,400.5 miles), fifth (2005 Micargi Island, a.k.a. "the tandem," low mileage), and sixth (2007 Cruzbike Sofrider v2, a.k.a. "the SUV," 2518.81 miles and counting as of 31 August 2008).

Unlike most—albeit far more this year (2008) than ever before—Greg commutes to work on bike, too. This was a frequent but irregular occurrence back in the NASA days and an infrequent and even more irregular occurrence in the early Philips days. But when the price of gas hit an outraaageous $1.50 per gallon in June 1999, Greg made the switch to nearly full-time cycling, driving only in serious rain.^* (This is much easier in a state where the rain is conveniently clumped into roughly three contiguous months and where the temperature never drops much below 35°F than in one where, say, the rain comes and goes all year long, the ground is covered in snow and/or salt for upwards of six months per year, and the temps frequently dip below 0°F [occasionally -30°F]—or else exceed 85°F and what feels like the same relative humidity. Somewhat challenging, yes, indeedy.)

^* By 2004, Greg realized he wasn't driving even on the rainy days, so he and the wife got rid of the (second) car. Of course, up went the car-insurance rates... Thank you, insurance-industry bastards!

Sadly, 30,000 miles of riding in a crouch—two thirds of them on an aluminum frame—took their toll on ye olde cranio-spinal joint. Turns out it doesn't heal all that fast, either, and not at all when it continues to be stressed—go figure! But Greg's a happy guy (except when he's grumpy like our favorite editor), and clearly this could mean only one thing: new bike! Yes, any excuse will do...

Get 'bent!

In fact, Greg had been itching to buy a recumbent for close to a decade—and did, in fact, ride a couple on a visit to the Netherlands in 2000—but the US-made models had always seemed seriously ugly, and the European ones tended to be hideously expensive (as in, $3000 and up). Being notoriously cheap, Greg had a tough time rationalizing such a purchase until medical considerations forced the issue.

At around the same time, Greg became aware of a new breed of 'bent made by Cruzbike: reasonable price (for a recumbent, anyway), pretty nice-looking, high-racer style (for visibility in traffic), same-size wheels (easier maintenance, less junk to carry)...and front-wheel-drive(?!). Weird as it sounds, it got some very good reviews (e.g., the guy with seven bents who claimed the Cruzbike was his favorite), so Greg took the plunge and ordered one sight unseen.

Unfortunately for Greg, August 2007 was right when the company was switching the Sofrider model from v1 to v2, so two full months came and went (and then some) before he actually took delivery. (On the plus side, the price went up in the interim, so Greg got it for less than just about anybody else—recall "notoriously cheap" above.) However, it did eventually arrive, and after a few hours of assembly, Greg got 'bent, you betcha.

Of course, FWD does take a bit of getting used to, and, as recommended, Greg spent about three weekends practicing before he started commuting on it. But hot damn if it wasn't just as fun as everyone claimed! More surprisingly, it's faster, too. Despite weighing about 50% more (unadorned) than Greg's GT, on the Cruzbike he tends to maintain a cruising speed one to two mph above that on the GT: 23-24 mph on level ground in the morning, in calm conditions or with a light headwind (vs. 21-23 mph with the diamond-frame), and 26-27 mph on level ground with traffic (vs. 24-25 mph).^* Of course, there's no comparison in accelerating to those speeds—the ability to stand on a diamond frame means one will always have significantly higher torque and higher peak power there. But the recumbent absolutely rules while cruising—one can maintain higher power output with far less effort (no doubt largely as a result of having one's legs at roughly the same height as one's heart; perhaps also slightly better aerodynamics—though, with a high racer with above-seat steering, not that much better). And with the high crank position, one can maintain full power through any turn the tires will accommodate—which is remarkably fun and which turns out to be at least 27 mph in Greg's case. Oh, and it can do hills, too! Who knew?

^* Peak speeds so far: 36 mph on level ground with a serious tailwind; 40.5 mph on a moderately steep downhill. Both were under full power in the highest gear, with full (day-)packs, lights and whatnot.

That said, there are a few drawbacks to recumbents in general and the Cruzbike in particular. Because the steering column supports not only the crank and "bottom" bracket (really more of a front bracket) but also a fair percentage of leg-mass, its rotational inertia is extremely high, which means (1) swerving around road hazards at the last second isn't easy, and (2) riding at or below about 3 mph, especially in the middle of a pack that's just getting underway, is pretty much impossible. No-hands riding isn't completely impossible, but it's quite difficult; most riders probably don't even want to think about it until they've logged at least 500 to 1000 miles. (Greg gave it another shot after 2500 miles, and while he managed a short, straight block, it didn't feel particularly stable, nor were his hands ever more than an inch away from the handlebars. Then again, Cruzbike's Maria Parker reported being able to do figure-eights after about six months of riding [with or without toe-clips??], so maybe Greg just needs a bit more practice in a parking lot.)

Cruzbike Sofrider v2, road-warrior edition.

In addition, as noted above, acceleration is limited—but not only by the inability to stand. Front-wheel drive also means the thing is a disaster when starting on dirt, sand, gravel, or wet or painted pavement; even on clean, dry, level pavement, it's quite common to spin during the first couple of cranks. Even worse, an unexpected spin at startup can completely throw off the rider's balance, thanks to the aforementioned linkage between drivetrain and steering. This is, of course, extra-specially exciting in Silicon Valley traffic, particularly in left-turn lanes...

Environmentally speaking, one's temperature is also somewhat harder to regulate, insofar as the rider's back is covered at all times. This can be a benefit in the winter but is a serious drawback in the summer. In addition, with one's arms angling up, blood flow to the hands is reduced, so numb fingers are possible even in 60° weather with no gloves, or 50° weather with full gloves. And let us not forget the rainy season... Greg has yet to experience it, but he imagines that, rather than running down one's legs and arms into shoes and gloves, respectively, the water will instead tend to dribble down both into what the folks on Firefly rustically referred to as one's "nethers." Ooooooo...chilly.

A more subtle drawback is the lack of mounting points for just about everything. Or so it seems, anyway. To a large extent, this is endemic to recumbents in general, but it's not necessarily something one realizes until faced with the actual problem:

• Bottle cage? Yes, behind the seat (two pairs of mounting holes, in fact—ironically enough, immediately behind the rider's kidneys). But if this is noted in the accompanying documentation, Greg certainly didn't notice it; indeed, he didn't discover it until ten months after the fact, while inspecting one of the photos he took while writing this page. (See also the Design Flaws section below for details about what Greg originally mistook for a third pair, nyuk nyuk. Oh, the embarrassment...)
• Bike pump? Nope.
• Front lights? Yes, if they're self-contained (no bottle-cage batteries unless the wires are particularly long) and don't extend much below the handlebars—that's also where one's knees go, and it is none too comfortable to bash them into a dangler (including the cyclocomputer's cut nylon cable-ties, for those models that happen to use that mounting style).
• Cyclocomputer? Yes, but with caveats—the front fork is much wider than normal (drivetrain, remember?), so the sensor needs about half a centimeter of padding to get within range of the magnet, and that's even with the magnet rotated 45° to close part of the gap. (See photo in the Work-arounds section below.) It would be a better fit on the rear wheel, but most wired cyclocomputers don't stretch that far.
• GPS? Sure, why not? At least, depending on the model, its mount, etc. Greg picked up a low-end Garmin Edge 205, which fits very nicely on top of the handlebar-clamp/extender thing (big chunk of aluminum in the middle). (Updated photo to follow...)
• Bell or air horn? Contrary to Greg's initial assessment, yes: right next to the stem, held in place partly by one of Greg's headlights. (Updated photo to follow...)
• Rear lights? Yes, so long as there's no rack; otherwise no, and kiss your rear reflector goodbye, too. (See photo below for cheesy work-around.)
• Rack? Yes, but only the seatpost-mounted mountain-bike kind; the Cruzbike is fully suspended, so the hypothetical lower attachment-points move relative to the upper one(s). And don't forget that the wheel-clearance when you're sitting on the ground staring at it does not equal the wheel-clearance when you're sitting on the bike. Greg had to tighten the suspension-spring significantly in order to avoid scraping when entering driveways and encountering other standard road bumps. (See photo at bottom of page.)
• Panniers? Nope—aside from the rack-mounted kind, and that's got a weight limit.
• Front bag? Nope.
• Seat-wedge bag? Nope.
• Backpack? Obviously not. (A Camelbak might be possible, but it would be under considerably higher stress than that for which Greg imagines it to be designed, so it's probably not a good idea.) Greg carries his street clothes in a fanny pack that he straps to the top of the rack-pack, just behind the seat.
• Jersey pockets? Surprisingly enough, yes—at least the two outer ones; Greg carries his squirt-bottle in the right pocket (cf. temperature above). It's also possible to carry a map or other paper in the middle pocket, but it's not a very good idea; it gets soggy within half a mile and starts shredding at the folds within two. (A front pocket would be awesome, but Greg has yet to find such a jersey. In the meantime, the leading edge of his lycra cycling shorts works reasonably well as a map "pocket.")

  Cruzbike design flaws

  A few of the Cruzbike's drawbacks are actually design flaws, i.e., things that are broken—or at least suboptimal—but need not be. None of them are serious, but they're annoyances, and far be it from Greg not to share his pain!

  The biggest flaw appears to be just a dumb oversight—or possibly even an error in the manufacturing/assembly process. As shipped, several of the Sofrider's cables pass through the front triangle's hinge. One of them, the shifter-cable for the front gears, then does a fairly sharp 90° turn before following the line of the adjustable leg of the triangle. Sadly, it does not include a metal sleeve, and after about 1500 miles of non-shifting (other than when it slipped while being walked, which was relatively frequent due to the Grip Shift handles and the asymmetric force of the chainring spring), the cable burst through its sheath:

  
  Front chainring-shifter cable at point of failure.

  On the positive side, one can still do fairly serious grades (up to about 8%, by Greg's estimate) with just the large chainring and eight cassette gears, and Greg actually likes not having to deal with the constant slipping of the left grip. On the negative side, the screw-adjustment to keep the chain on the large chainring without scraping the shifter mechanism was fairly finicky (though fine for at least two or three months now); and, of course, Greg won't be doing major mountains anytime soon. (Note that the Sofrider v1 didn't have a second chainring, so the v2's cable is effectively a version 1.0 item.)

  In the "acceptable but could still use improvement" department is the adjustable top leg of the front triangle, which uses a quick-release friction-latch to secure the leg...sort of. It happens that human legs can generate a considerable amount of force, and a friction-latch, even when made extremely tight, will slip. A better design (subject to metal-fatigue considerations, of course) would involve notches or holes for positive locking (e.g., via a locking pin). Quarter-inch (half-cm) or even half-inch (1cm) spacing would suffice; Greg has ridden fairly comfortably while the bar extended itself by nearly two inches over a period of six months.

  
  Sofrider slip'n'slide, as it were. (Plastic-wrapped tire pump rotated 90° for photos.)

  A rather more amusing "flaw" is the location of what appear to be bottle-cage braze-ons in precisely the most useless possible location: under the seat, inside the bracket for the forward end of the rear-suspension spring:

  
  Not the most convenient place for a bottle cage.

  But it turns out that not all is as it appears! In fact, according to the bike's designer, the "braze-ons" are actually "the ends of a pair of welded tubes that go through the whole top tube and provide a solid mounting point for the seat." Who knew? (In hindsight, it makes a great deal of sense—but apparently conversions have to do without?)

  In any case, it would be nice if there were an extra bottle-cage mount point on the bottom side of the other (curved) frame component. Maybe in v3... (Now that Greg has discovered the pair of obvious-in-hindsight mount points behind the seat, this is purely a wishlist item.)

  It's hard to ding Cruzbike for the tapering at the center of the handlebars (insofar as it may well be the best possible compromise between structural stiffness of the steering assembly—recall the mass/inertia issue—and standardized handlebar components), but it did result in one of Greg's knee-bashing incidents, and that in turn led to the loss of his front reflector. The taper is most visible here:

  
  Sofrider v2 handlebars, showing central taper and upward-angled "knee-pits".

  The two headlights are mounted immediately outside the tapered region. Originally the reflector was attached approximately where the righthand light now sits but slightly inward—i.e., on the tapered section. It eventually slipped loose, rotated downward, got whacked by a knee a few times, and shortly thereafter lost either its nut or its bolt somewhere on Greg's commute. Ach, weel, c'est la vie!

  Cruzbike work-arounds

  Speaking of headlights, the mass of cables coming off the brakes and shifters had an unfortunate habit of getting in the way of Greg's lights until he tied them together with part of a rubber band (to prevent slippage) and a small velcro strap:

  
  Sofrider v2 handlebars, cable-tie solution, and bottle-cage/amber-blinky solution.

  The first photo also shows Greg's fix for the (perceived) bottle-cage ooper, which was to mount it (and a cheap amber blinky) to the steering column with a pair of hose-clamps. So far it's worked out very well, and it's certainly a convenient location for a water bottle. Of course, the blinky has some visibility issues due to the cable bundle (see second photo), but nothing short of mounting it on the front triangle is likely to fix that.

  Here's Greg's solution for offsetting the cyclocomputer's sensor far enough from the fork to actually detect the spoke-magnet:

  
  Cruzbike electromagnetism: the angled, foamy approach.

  And here's his cheesy work-around for the too-many-things-want-to-be-attached-to-the-seat-post problem:

  
  Not pretty, but functional...

  Yes, that is a pot-handle bolted to a steel-reinforced piece of PVC pipe, which in turn is mounted to the upper-left, inside corner of the rack (out of the way of the wheel!) with another hose-clamp and a couple of velcro straps. And yes, there's a stick, some paper padding, and a wire just in case something slips. (The additional velcro straps below the handle are simply to cover the loose end of the reinforcing steel strap, which is fairly sharp.) One of these days Greg will engineer something just a wee tad more elegant...preferably before the rainy season begins.

  Here's an end-on view, showing not only the PVC pipe and its mounting bolt but also the clearance between the rack and the rear tire:

  
  Base of cheesy taillight mount (left), and bottom of rack and top of rear tire.

  The seat and seat-post are visible in the background above the tire.

  Cruzbike conclusion (v2.5k edition)

  Lest all this sound overly negative, Greg should reiterate that, on the whole, he still loves the bike. In fact, if the need arose, he'd probably buy another; definitely so if some of the annoyances got fixed. Moreover, the putative reason for buying it in the first place—Greg's neck injury—was completely healed in less than two months, after nearly five months of no progress at all. (Likely it would have healed even more quickly if not for a certain Subaru's defective rear hatch. Ouch.)

  Though it took a while to get Greg's standard collection of doodads mounted, everything—including air horn and GPS—is in place and working well. The formerly front-mounted tire pump was subsequently moved under-seat; it required only two velcro straps and two cable ties—both of the latter for the rear attachment, the first around the frame and the second to attach the velcro strap parallel to the first. But it's incredibly snug and should keep the pump completely dry, too, with the possible exception of spray from the rear tire. (Greg's looking into fenders, front disc brakes, and a fairing for wet-weather riding.)

  Meanwhile, all the positive features Greg originally wanted still hold: recumbent design for health, efficiency, and fun; same-size wheels for ease of maintenance; short wheelbase for easier storage, including on the back of a small car; high-racer style for visibility in traffic; and front-wheel drive for a short chain path and no extra freewheels to slow things down.

  As a bonus, the standard tires are 100 psi, 26" x 1.5" mountain-bike (or hybrid) road tires, and they seem to be wearing exceptionally well—although the front one is definitely wearing faster. (Time to rotate 'em, eh?) Greg has had only one (pinch) flat so far, when he hit a large rock at high speed with an underinflated front tire. Greg's evil nemesis, tribulus terrestris, has yet to make an appearance.

  Stop by next year for the 5000-mile report...

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  Last updated 27 September 2008. Copyright © 2008 Greg Roelofs, you betcha.