We’re still around and, as you are reading this, so are you. Pause and give thanks.
With crisis comes change so let’s strive for better outcomes. In the meantime, support each other and don’t stop sharing. In that vein, here’s an update on Wheel Fanatyk.
It’s harsh now, even to be a cyclist.
Top Velo, 1998
Fortunate are artisans who love what they make. This is certainly true for Marcel Borthayre, one of the most important names in France’s tradition of great wheel building. Thanks to the generous efforts of his daughter, Maryse, we can share some details of his cycling life. The clipping above, attests to his devotion to wheel building. Read more →
October wheel building class in Port Townsend,
2 days + 6 rims and hubs + 192 spokes + 1 jolly teacher + 6 determined students (with an age range of over 60 years) = six excellent wheels and six future master builders!
Thanks to all who contributed to another successful Port Townsend Cycle School program!
A 1970’s image of a bicycle was so rare in US media that I clipped and collected every one I could. That would be absurd today but this early habit brought me an appreciation for New Yorker magazine cover art. They’re a throw back to an earlier time when original art was created for covers rather than the splashy newsstand bait that today’s covers have become.
For over 90 years, New Yorker covers have celebrated the changing seasons of nature, culture, and national events. More than their share feature bicycles and I began collecting these (with the help of Richard Sachs, similarly smitten). To date, there are at least 100 such covers, many are among my favorite cycling images of all time. Collectable all. Last week’s (May 7, 2018) cover, Biking in the Rain by Jean-Jacques Sempé is a wonderful addition to this charming tradition. New Yorker covers can be bought here.
A serene cyclist floats through the urban scene. © New Yorker
This latest issue profiles Sempé, my all-time favorite cartoonist. He has done 111 covers for New Yorker and, at 85, lives and works in Paris. His art, especially NY covers, has been a lovely background theme to my life. Like a musical tune that captures a time and place, his renditions seem timed to my career.
In 1979, this cover showed a pair of tandem riders scooting through the countryside with knowing aplomb.
Dwarfed by the world, but unflappable! © New Yorker
Six months after that cover my wife and I were married and honeymooned on our tandem. In 1983, Sempé drew Cycle Shop for the cover. Wheelsmith was our crowded workshop in Palo Alto. His image captured perfectly the context, the customer, and the mechanic.
Homage to the bike shop. © New Yorker
So, caps off to this gifted artist and the timeless style of New Yorker magazine.
A Zen teacher saw five of his students returning from the market, riding their bicycles. When they arrived at the monastery and had dismounted, the teacher asked the students, “Why are you riding your bicycles?”
The first student replied, “The bicycle is carrying the sack of potatoes. I am glad that I do not have to carry them on my back!” The teacher praised the first student, “You are a smart boy! When you grow old, you will not walk hunched over as I do.”
The second student replied, “I love to watch the trees and fields pass by as I roll down the path.” The teacher commended the second student, “You eyes are open and you see the world.”
The third student replied, “When I ride my bicycle, I am content to chant nam myoho renge kyo.” The teacher gave praise to the third student, “Your mind will roll with the ease of a newly trued wheel.”
The fourth student replied, “Riding my bicycle, I live in harmony with all sentient beings.” The teacher was pleased and said to the fourth student, “You are riding on the golden path of non-harming.”
The fifth student replied, “I ride my bicycle to ride my bicycle.” The teacher sat at the feet of the fifth student and said, “I am your student!”
Wheel building is booming, though it’s rare to see evidence in the cycling press. I’d call it a work in progress, rather like craft brewing back in the day. Pioneers were scrappy and uncertain. When they first appeared, the big brewers knew it would be sporadic and limited (college towns, resorts). They actually got murdered over several decades and now craft brewing carries a large percentage of that market. This seems to be happening with wheel building.
Today most small builders are in likely cities (Portland, SF, Seattle, Boulder, LA…) but their global rise (UK, AU, NZ, EU…) shows it’s not a local trend. Your area may be barren but many successful builders are elsewhere. Check these, among hundreds more:
Not personal recommendations (but all excellent). The more you look, the more you’ll find.
If you are contemplating getting underway I recommend exploring two questions.
Where Am I?
You may plan a strong web presence but your immediate scene is your most important asset. Local riding is a key element in your opportunity.
© Sugar Wheelworks (Portland)
Put aside personal preferences and experience because, as a wheel builder, you should welcome, understand, and whisper to all forms of wheels. Can’t do too much research and preparation to cultivate your local community.
Who Am I?
There are many types of builders. Wheel construction seems pretty straightforward but those who succeed do not share one approach. One science I hope, but not one style. Who are you? Understanding your style helps direct your effort and avoid confusion.
1. Hobbyest
Handy with tools, good with gear, likes self sufficiency, finds building fairly easy, builds own and wheels for friends and family. Not so keen to make a simple task complicated or dramatic.
2. Social
If you’re gregarious, wheel building can bring quite a range of human variety your way. Creating a business around the needs and exploits of riders is attractive to customers. You’ll want a welcoming workshop with plenty of ambiance and regular outreach.
© gravy wheels (Novato)
3. Nerd
Many an engineer type is drawn to building and customers, in turn, to them. Emphasizing tech with gauges and instruments, sharing spreadsheets and charts, teaching the “how” behind wheels can be a central theme if that is your drift. But it is not necessary to reek of tech. Performance minded customers need to trust but rarely require knowing all about the science.
© Cutlass Wheels (Baltimore)
4. Artistic
Wheels are beautiful and there is room for plenty of self expression for a builder. The bar is very high for visual compatibility with the bike, high finish of components, and unity of design. Aesthetics are an ever changing scene, rules flex, styles evolve, and builders help drive change. We’ve all noticed what fixies combine on machines so basic they simply showcase wheels.
© Roues d’Olive (Fully, Switzerland)
We are combinations of such types but discovering that inner builder is key to separating your offering from vague and mainstream options. Riders seek custom building for more than alleged benefits of value or performance. They want to deal with a real person, not just an “add to cart” button. There is no “better” style but the clearer yours, the greater authenticity you broadcast.
Authenticity attaches to wheels, gives them karmic power riders remember for years. Authenticity of our prized possessions adds meaning to our lives. That’s your ultimate product as a custom wheel builder.
Go for it and please share your experiences with others (and me :-)!
Triumph of Collaboration
PBMA continues to gain members, supporters and influence. So great to see mechanics network like never before, debate important issues, and clearly begin to gain in stature and resources. Both the FB page and the organization are open for applications and eager to share the growing list of benefits.
Another great mechanic story hails from Rwanda where the National Cycling Center is taking shape.
From ashes to elite cycling in a decade.
One of the most memorable characters in our cycling scene of the early 1970’s was Phil Wood who, with his wife Vada and manager Bern Smith, pioneered the modern use of cartridge bearings in bike components. Here Bern recalls some of the special challenges:
Here’s an introduction to the complexities of specifying, testing, purchasing, re-testing, lubricating and assembling bearings. Some of this will be pretty pedestrian to folks with working knowledge of bearings, but there’s plenty other facets to it.
In the earliest days of Phil Wood & Co. circa 1972, once Spence Wolfe had convinced Phil to manufacture some maintenance-free hubs, and they agreed that 50 pairs would be the most they could ever sell, Phil started testing bearing and lubricant samples. He settled fairly quickly on a single domestic manufacturer of bearings, but the grease samples were…disappointing…
Spence and Lillian Wolfe at their Cupertino Bike Shop, hugely influenced many aspects of the Nor Cal scene.
He found ‘waterproof’ grease that dissolved in water, grease that absorbed water, swelled up and forced itself out of the bearings past the seals, and other oddities. Eventually he found a product from a local (Bay Area) supplier that was something of an oddity itself – the manufacturer produced only very small batches of this particular grease, and only occasionally. It was somewhat inconsistent in texture and color. But after Phil consulted with them a little, they changed the mix, and after that it worked really well in full immersion salt bath tests.
And it was green…
So we were off and rolling…
We specified that grease to the bearing manufacturer for lubing at their factory. Then the fun began.
A tangent (and a quiz) are required here.
• What is the highest rpm a bicycle bearing is ever likely to spin?
• How many rpm’s is a regular radial-contact industrial ball bearing typically tested to maintain without burning out?
• How hot do you think bearings get at max rpm?
• What causes that heat?
• What exacerbates it?
…and what is the maximum percentage fill of grease in the bearing assembly cavities (those gaps between the bearings, their retainers, and the seals) that most any manufacturer will agree to?
Back to the early bearings. We found soon enough that our idea of how much grease a bearing should have in it was vastly different from what the bearing suppliers were willing to provide. Typical over-the-counter industrial bearings are filled ~25% full with grease. That’s because those bearings, in a normal installation (an electric motor, say) might run as high as 10,000 rpm – 10 times higher than a bicycle bearing will ever spin. A bearing running at 10,000 rpm gets hot – really hot – from friction, and hotter still if it has too much grease in it (retaining heat in the assembly). Too much grease meaning anything over about 25%.
We specified 95% fill because our tests showed that provided satisfactory water resistance in the extreme tests we put bearings through. But the suppliers refused, citing product liability, and other not-pertinent reasons. So we had to lift seals and add grease to each bearing. That probly doubled our bearing cost.
At least we were getting good bearings…until…batches started arriving from the factory with large grit, wood chips, crystals and other unknown stuff. We rejected lots of bearings. It got so bad that, in the final batch we rejected from the original supplier, most of the bearings would not rotate. Now, there’s a handful of things a bearing needs to do, but above all…
Eventually we found a (foreign) company that produced consistently good bearings for considerably lower cost than the others. Were they eventually prosecuted for dumping bearings in the U.S. to put domestic factories under? Another story for another time…
Then the grease started to get weird…
Cartoon icon Alley Oop, enemy of corrosion and friction!
As you might have guessed, as we grew more comfortable with the grease we chose, we had an idea that maybe we could use that grease for other purposes, and maybe other folks might like it as well. In particular, we felt that the lovely deep green color itself could help sell the stuff, and we settled on a slogan – ‘It’s Green!’. Anyway, we asked the manufacturer about making larger batches, that we could repackage from 55 gallon drums into 3oz tubes. They asked how much we might ever sell…
Each time we got ready to order grease for repackaging, I went to the lab at the lubricant plant and inspected samples. They had a few minor problems and we rejected some batches – turns out that the grease mixing vat was used for several different products and occasionally did not get cleaned out completely between product switchovers. Eventually the plant assigned a mixer for this grease alone, and things smoothed out.
At one point, after about 3 years without a single problem, I asked Phil if maybe we didn’t need to go to the plant to check the samples first. We looked at each other for a moment and said simultaneously “Check the grease”…So I drove to the plant and met the project manager in the lab, where he pulled out the latest sample. It was a beautiful, deep black. Lesson learned the easy way for once.
Years later, after the project manager had retired, I related that story to his successor, who laughed, and said “Oh, yeah – he was colorblind!”
Phil and Vada circa 2009
Since wheel sages know tensiometers are optional for the highest levels of building, let’s ask, “Why use one at all?” After all, some are substantial investments.
I co-introduced the first consumer tensiometer in 1985 and still sell them today, so I have a bias (or 2) and some perspective.
What do they do?
Experienced builders are right, a great wheel does not require a tensiometer. Even for beginners, everything you need can be learned by trial and error.
Using a tensiometer reduces the chance of incorrect spoke tension, the most common fault of wire wheels. Both the average and the distribution of tension must be in a narrow range for components to blend optimally into a single, rugged structure.
Squeezing spokes, plucking them, and feeling nipple turning resistance are ways to monitor tension besides a dedicated measuring tool. A tensiometer prevents misinterpretation from:
– Thick spokes feeling tighter than thin because they are stiffer to squeeze.
– Nipples suggesting higher tension if they resist turning due to corrosion or lack of lubrication.
– Material and geometry of rim holes and nipples greatly affecting twisting friction.
Tensiometers can see through all of this, a boon for beginners.
A training tool
More than enabling appropriate tension, as you see tension numerically, associations form without conscious effort. You become trained to sense tension just as a heart rate monitor trains you to know your rate.
After thousands of observations, wheel tension becomes more and more intuitive. Rim models, tensions with various spokes and nipples, time to finish, and eventual long term outcomes, all become associated. This mental landscape is best built with a tensiometer and as experience accumulates your expertise grows. This intuition separates masters from learners and enables very fast builds.
The conversation
Since numbers are better than adjectives like “tight,” “not so tight,” “really tight,” etc.; component makers, builders, journalists, and riders can exchange ideas and discuss experiences with a shared numerical language. Kilograms of force and newton meters enable instruction and conversation. This ongoing discussion shapes product development and wheel designs. Without it, the cycling world would be more random and hazardous.
Reassurance
These days it is best to show you use a tensiometer and have respect for the subject. Sure, it’s part marketing but people tend to make snap judgements, especially when trust is involved. There are so few tools in wheel building despite its engineering feat. Callouses and name dropping go only so far to establish credibility. Modern consumers will often defer to a very neat and well equipped workshop over a spartan layout in spite of good reviews.
So remember
There are two levels at work in your building. One is the wheel before you, wanting to be the best it can. Two is the learning brought by experience. Building your intuition for component, especially spoke, behavior is an immense treasure – the key to speed, a reservoir of patience, a resource for advising riders, and a stimulus for design insights. No wonder many builders…
This piece is only of interest to a minority of professional bicycle mechanics. That’s my excuse for such a lengthy exposition and references mechanics will catch but others may not. The time for this story is now, mechanics are networking and organizing as never before.
A can-do mechanic.
Starting with a cadre of race mechanics, acquainted through events and programs like the USAC Mechanics Program, there is now a professional mechanics FB site that has grown to 3000 members in a matter of weeks. If you are a mechanic and not a member, please check it out. Many important discussions are occurring around shared goals of improved standards, wages, accountability, diversity, technique, and advancement. My two bits are related to those topics.
The following concepts are big but simple, so I’ll tell it like a story. The story is true in message but not every detail is exact. Please follow along and see if the points make sense.
Service in today’s economy
Service is one of the most secure, best paid, and fastest growing employment sectors in the developed world. Fixing and maintaining copiers, plumbing, computers, vehicles, elevators, espresso makers, etc. is in increasing demand.
Cheer up, it’s going to get better.
Yet bicycle service is plagued by low wages and high turnover. There are few paths to advancement, little diversity, working conditions are often primitive, and access to training is scarce. At the same time, employers (shops, teams, companies, riders) complain of a small pool of effective technicians, widespread low standards, unprofessional attitudes, and lack of accreditation.
Why the contradiction?
When I left retail in 1999, my shop was trying some novel service ideas. That experiment was interrupted but interesting points were raised. I dove into cycle manufacturing, particularly large scale wheel building. I found the economics of manufacturing surprisingly similar to shop service departments. Yet, in shops, service is usually managed like a subdivision of commodity retail.
Seeking answers for the mechanics’ dilemma, I interviewed service operations in motorcycle, auto, marine, and aviation. Perhaps their practices would help explain the contradiction. A telling experience in my quest was a visit with Cal BMW’s owner, Kari Prager (much admired and since passed). His Mountain View, CA business was among the premier BMW motorcycle dealerships in the US. I explained my quest and he asked a few questions.
“What’s your shop rate?”
I said “$95/hr.” My shop was 20yrs old and regionally well known. We had mechanics with high level experience and an impressive service department. Other shop rates went from $50 to $85, so we thought it wise to stake out $95 for ourselves. That’s the way most shops do it: we select a rate rather than generate it from our costs.
Kari said, “Great, I’m impressed. So you pay your mechanics $45/hr? I wish I could do that. Our starting wage is over $60/hr and still we have turnover trouble. They’re poached by auto performance shops that pay better.”
I said, “Whoa, we pay around $20/hr and are locally famous for such a high rate. I couldn’t pay more if I wanted.” Kari said, “That’s incredible. You charge $95/hr and only pay $20? What a clever guy you are. What do you do with all that money?”
I said, “No way. I’m always broke and challenged to make payroll. I can’t buy a new car. There’s no gold mine at my shop.”
He said, “Something is wrong. If you charge $95, where is the money going?” This led to a simple experiment: determine the ACTUAL labor rate. It’s simple: pick a period, divide all receipts for labor by all hours devoted to those jobs. Exclude phone calls, customer consults, and parts chases. Count only hours for jobs. This will identify the ACTUAL labor rate as opposed to the ADVERTISED rate.
We did this and found our ACTUAL rate was 1/2 our ADVERTISED. I have since done this calculation at a number of shops and never found an ACTUAL rate that was more than 1/2 the ADVERTISED rate.
Huh? Customers are asked to pay a labor rate, they agree and, without being told, are charged half. Mechanics are told their work is being charged out at a specific rate but then paid less than 1/4 in wages. Service business in the larger world doesn’t do this. This is broken thinking and everyone loses.
What do other service sectors do?
In auto, marine, and aviation service operations, I found similarities to each other but little resembled bicycle practice.
One way to make it easier.
The point is to know more precisely how service makes money, which usually leads to higher wages for mechanics. Here is how it is done: each task is assigned a flat rate that represents expectations (not necessarily outcomes) for each job. Mechanics record (with a time clock) the beginning and end of every task. Answering phones, service writing, selling, unpacking orders, these are clocked accordingly, NOT as service labor. This record keeping must be diligent, it’s nearly impossible to track without time clocks.
Time clocks are unwelcome in most bike shops, seeming impersonal and authoritarian. However, service is more like manufacturing than commodity retail. In manufacturing, time clocks are the worker’s best friend. They defend proper compensation. Management must prove that all clocked hours are paid. Time clocks are not exploitative but empowering evidence on behalf of mechanics. Likewise, if your efficiency as a mechanic is brought down by interruptions, the evidence should be available.
Using a time clock does not mean piece work pay. That is another discussion. The time clock gives the shop data to become smarter and, in turn, mechanics are usually winners.
Each week, data must be analyzed. Every job type (overhaul, tire install, etc.) is checked against hours to see how close it comes to expectations (flat rate). Each mechanic is measured for efficiency. Some are fast, some are slow. We know whose work is better (compliments, come-backs…) but who is consistently faster is often barely known.
What to do with this insight?
Some jobs need re-pricing, up or down; others require better specs so time spent matches time expected.
Mechanic productivity varies more than most think. Interruptions are extremely expensive. Mechanics who are best paid are too often slow. No other service scene employs so many that are not particularly mechanical. Intuitive mechanics solve problems while they move forward, anticipating parts and tool needs, and try and work as quickly as possible. It seems programmed into the very core of a gifted mechanic. Like commercial chefs, they do not work like home cooking aficionados. Many bike mechanics are enthusiastic riders. Some should be service writers, not mechanics.
Shops are like race teams. In general, the quickest rider is the best paid. Many shops do not know enough about speed. Faster mechanic numbers jump off the page. They can be 2-4X faster, may lack an interest in chit chat, may not ride so much, may prefer mechanical hobbies.
Our industry does a poor job of retaining them because they are not paid according to their productivity and drift to industries where they are. Too many cycling mechanics are not mechanically intuitive. Service businesses outside cycling normally pay at least 1/2 of their labor rate to the mechanic. If paid less, the shop rate may be bogus.
There is no correct response to this collected data. Anyone with it will have ideas. Slow mechanics are welcome but shouldn’t be paid too much. For tiny shops, time clocks may not be an option. The point is: too few in the service end of cycling seek or have these numbers. We’re not trying to make shops like factories. We want to be as smart as possible and not suffer any avoidable handicaps.
Until more shops measure service the way successful operations outside cycling do, gifted mechanics will have trouble being paid and the career will remain backward. Many improvements in the profession are needed but if the engine that pays is busted, progress will be slow!
