S.J wrote and talked with us about aftercare for Rest Area. Kali Rose said the snake I ran over on my e-bike was a good omen, and she’s never going to let that go. I arrive in Vienna, cafés I’d aimed for are closed for lunch so I find myself in Café Jelinek, a bit off Mariahilfestr. neighbourhoods I’ve biked through before. A second breakfast, after our all-’80s singing one in Landgasthaus Rodlhof on 3 hours sleep, raked from the work and hungover, is a big mug of coffee, croissant and honey, bowl of fruit and yoghourt, 4 slices bread with cream cheese, chives, tomatoes, all for 9,50 €. On the plane, easyJet to Schönefeld, they offer me two seats, ’cos I’m mad tall. I fall over myself into it. 4 hours later, a half before midnight and the Danube churning in my lungs, I arrive home. Katrin has left dinner on the table for me. Aftercare all the way.
My glorious Fulcrum Racing 5 CX wheels needed the front wheel’s cones tightened. Break out cone spanners and all the usual mess for a hub-gutting. But, no! All I need is a 2.5mm hex key to spin the pre-load ring tighter. Could probably be done without even removing the wheel. Out-farking-standing.
There was this moment, about 90 minutes in, when I’d unwound the bar tape, stripped out the old cables, trashed the old brakes, had a pile of new bits to install facing a gutted bike, and I thought to myself, “You know what you’re doing, right? ’Cos you can’t reverse out of this mess if you don’t, eh.”
“Nah, nah, nah, mate, she’ll be right.”
“Are you saying that for my benefit, or yours?”
”Also Frances, buy some fucking wire cutters, for fuck’s sake. You know how pliers butcher the shit out of cables.”
Lucky for me it turns out I more or less do, and it more or less did. If I don’t experience catastrophic improperly installed brake failure in the next few weeks, I reckon I’m good.
These are by far the easiest cantilever brakes to set the pads up on, and set the spring tension, and cable length, I swear, all that wasted time with shite cantis when I could have been using these. Enough time left after setup even to commit to drivetrain cleaning and swapping out the chain. Nice new Ultegra links to match Avid Shorty Ultimate braking mayhem. Finally I have cantis that I can skid the rear tyre on without doing a slight endo to de-weight the rear. Plus I swapped left and right levers, cos like driving on the left in the Empire’s former colonies, so too do we mash the rear brake by grabbing a handful with our left. I tried to be all proper German slash EU and swap to Rear is Right, but a lifetime of ingrained braking habits refused to change, and there’s nothing more confidence destroying than hammering a sketchy trail having to consciously think of which hand to squeeze.
Yay! Brakes! Yay! Still new wheels! Yay! awesome tyres! I took it for a shakedown ride this morning, plus fiddled with my saddle position. Well tasty. Gonna be putting some miles down on this in the coming weeks.
A late-afternoon, evening well mechanic-ed. And frankly, bike now has one well-sexy arse.
Once again, after some two hours of riding into Brandenburg, on country roads, cobblestone lanes, gravel farm tracks and single-track trails, just south of the new (and still unopened) airport, I reach the end of the road.
Magic end of road had a little hook through a copse, under a fallen tree, on the narrowest of barely-used paths, through a short spur of forest, spitting me out on the cleanest of new access roads around barbed wire airport fencing. Two more hours of gravel, cobblestone, track, trail, path, road, canalways, towns, fields, forests, to close the loop back in Kreuzberg.
“But were there Nazis, Frances?”
“Yes, Other Frances, there are always Nazis in Brandenburg. These ones rode crappy, old East German scooters with coal scuttle helmets through Zeuthen, and looked secretly ashamed and sad.”
“Hey Frances, whatcha got there?”
“Hey bike, oh, you know, a bikeday present.”
“What’s a bikeday present?”
“Just something I bought for you, like a birthday present.”
“Was it your birthday?”
“I’m not gonna answer that one, bike.”
“So whatcha got there?”
“Brakes. For you.”
“Brakes? For me?”
“Yup. Fukkin’ mayhem set of Avid Shorty Ultimate cantilever brakes. Cos you deserve them.”
“I love you, Frances.”
“I love you, bike.”
“Wanna get drunk and hoon?”
“You know I do.”
My flatmate is the best flatmate. (Was fully delicious. I scoffed it in bed while hooning the Regenbogen Autobahn. And followed it with a block of chocolate. Also was the full moon. Oh! And taken with my new, sci-fi iPhone SE. First images even.)
The brilliant Melanie Lane’s new performance, Wonderwomen opens tonight in HAU1, with: the awesome pair of professional bodybuilders that are Rosie Harte and Natalie Schmidt; set and costume design by Robert Bartholot; music by Clark; lighting by Fabian Bleisch; and feministing up in your dramaturgy by Frances d’Ath (yup, the one who has this blog). It’s on the main stage, and looks deadly. Here’s some photos from dress rehearsal yesterday.
I only care about white asparagus season because it means rhubarb season.