Reviewed: Rivendell Roll-y Poly 28 mm Tire

I wanted fatter tires on my road bike.

Not fat -- just fatter. Something that might provide a little cush over the nasty New England pavement. Something that wouldn't blush and giggle every time I pointed them on to gravel side roads for a little exploratory jaunt.

On my Salsa Vaya, I'm running the 40 millimeter Clement X'plor MSO, so I'm well-covered for those long unpaved rides that require some paved connections. Now, I wanted my Jamis Quest to be just as flexible, but in reverse: perfect for long, comfortable road rides, yet more than ready when a dusty byway catches my peripheral vision.

After more research than I needed (mes oui!) I decided to sample tires from the company that has long been championing puffier tires for all. The 700 x 28 mm Roll-y Pol-y is made by the venerable Panaracer (the last bike tire company actually manufacturing in Japan) but conceived and marketed by Grant Petersen and his merry band of geeky bike elves over at Rivendell Bicycle Works.

After a couple hundred miles, I have some reliable first impressions. (I'll update this review in a few months with a more in-depth perspective.)

These are lovely tires, in various ways. The checkerboard tread is quirky and appealing (and probably completely useless). The old school-look of the tan sidewalls is always going to win points with me, a hopeless romantic. Above all, though, the feel of these tires grabbed me within two minutes of riding. Quality tires give a response that's very hard to describe. People mention "road feel" all the time, but misunderstand its essence: It doesn't mean that you can detect every pebble on the road, because that would translate into too much chatter for comfort. It means that the rider can sense the rubber interacting with the surface of the road in a subtle, refined way. This sensation makes me ride my bike differently—or at least with more pleasure.

In addition to lower air pressure, the extra width and beautifully rounded profile add up to very confident cornering and a sense of calm when entering marbly gravel patches on an unplanned detour. I even dropped pressure way down on these and took them to a local gravel/dirt trail to test them out: They took me almost everywhere my deeper-treaded off-road 700c tires do—from nicely-packed gravel trails...

...to chunky, soft turf (though a lot of power is needed in this stuff)...

...and even over sharp, oversized "gravel" (with some pinging and tire deflection):

So, I now have two very different bikes I can ride almost anywhere. Joy!

On the road, the Roll-ys feel much more sprightly than expected. Some reviews state that they're the lightest 28 mm tire out there, but I don't care enough to check. They spin up quick enough for this road-turtle when he feels a bit more hare-like, and they simply "feel quick." This probably has something to do with thread count or rubber compound; all I know is that I now have tires that feel better, provide more comfort, grip better—and don't hold me back. I'm pretty sure my long-term update on this review is going to be very positive.

Curse you, Petersen! You told me I wouldn't turn back once I'd tried quality wider tires—and you were right!

Hmmm... Wonder if the Rivendell Jack Browns (stated width of "33.333333 mm") will fit between the chainstays of my increasingly multipurpose "road" bike...

Bike Overnight: D.A.R. State Forest

The fam and I did a lightning overnight at the D.A.R. State Forest in Goshen, MA last night. I could go on and on about the delights, but will sum it up with Junior Velosopher's concise review: "Today was the best day I ever had with you guys."

I made it a psuedo bike overnight by riding up there from our place, once I finished helping Mrs. V pack the car. They passed me in the car on the way up (and up, and up...). We threw camp together, had dinner, and went for a walk in time to see the last of the sunset at the camper's beach, glimmers of light ochre reflected in the smooth black surface of the water. Ducks waddled about making soft trills and looking for treats.

Is there anything better than camp breakfast? Hot eggs and sausage, coffee made on the fire, the tang of woodsmoke thick in the chill air. The weather was utterly perfect, dry and sunny, so I motivated Jr.to accompany me on a ride to the famous fire tower -- a brute of a climb, including a steep mile of loose gravel, but unbelievably worth it. Unspoiled forest as far as the eye could see, with mountains in the distance. I'm guessing you can see at least three states from up there.

We threw a few extra climbs in, headed back, and packed up. Before we left the park, we lunched by the beautiful swimming lake, toasted our tootsies in the sun, and took a dip in the clear, icy water. Ahhh.

Back at home now, it feels as if we were away at least two nights. Beyond food and gas -- barely more than we'd have spent if we'd stayed at home -- we were in for $20 for our reservation and $10 for our firewood. Not bad.

We will be returning for a much longer stay at this sylvan paradise -- a mere 35-minute drive from our door.

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Fort Hill, Amherst Mass

A great bike adventure doesn't have to take you hours from your front door. I discovered one last week just 20 minutes away, and you can, too, if you live near Amherst, MA. Fort Hill is near the center of town, but it's amazing how quickly it gets beautifully pastoral.

Everyone knows about the Norwottuck bike trail, which runs from Northampton through Amherst and out to Belchertown. Right off that trail, very close to Amherst center, is a small network of dirt roads and trails where I've managed to string together a good 15 or 20 minutes of fun for that moment when I'm passing through town and want a real nature break.

To access it, turn off South Pleasant Street/Route 116 into the driveway for Amherst Farmers Supply, and take an immediate left onto the bike trail.

View Larger Map

About a mile east on the trail, at the very end of the Amherst College tennis courts, turn left onto a wide dirt road, and then follow the main road, bearing right at the maintenance shack you'll see in front of you. You'll start climbing, and also playing with the various surface ingredients -- wonderfully packed dirt; loose, marbly gravel; and packed, flinty stones. (I recommend at least 28 mm tires.)

Keep climbing past the small pen of adorable pigs, and then 'round the bend after the buzzing beehives:

About 50 yards later, you'll top out and receive your reward: A panoramic view of the Amherst valley and the Pelham hills, from a lovely clearing with a picnic table.

The worn stone steps I found at the opposite side of the clearing made me wonder if Fort Hill had an actual military structure on its summit at one point. 

The table is in a nice shady spot with a light breeze, which dispels the heat and mosquitoes. If you return to the main road and continue down the other side of the hill, you'll end up at the junction of Southeast Street:

I recommend, however, retracing your path back down the hill a little, just past the piggies, and finding the opening in the trees on your left. You'll enter a small network of walking trails that creates a swoopy descent back down to the bike trail. One of the trails will dump you onto the bike trail right where you left it; enjoy poking around until you find that one. 

From there, take a left onto the other end of the main dirt road. Soon, you'll see a gate set in the trees on your right. Take this delightful little trail through the woods back up to the entrance of the Farmers Supply, and voila! You're back where you started. 

No muss, no fuss -- you don't even have to break a sweat to get a little dirt action, quietude, and a splendid view, right off the center of Amherst, on a nice summer day. 

It pays to poke around.

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The Joys of Wrenching Your Own

When I started riding again six years ago, and it became evident that I was in it for the long haul this time, I set my mind to learning to repair my own bike.

Wrenching at home eliminates a trip to the bike store -- where I might have to wait a day or three for my bike, and pay a nice chunk for the privilege. It increases my confidence on long rides, knowing I'm less likely to be stranded.

Perhaps most precious, it's a feast for the senses.

it puts my hands on something material and finite, a small metal and rubber puzzle waiting to be manipulated, twisted, aligned. It replaces rushing and talk and noise with the quiet tapping of metal on metal and the measured click-click-click of the freewheel. The heft of the bike as I put it in the stand, the cool feel of steel and aluminum, the balanced weight of a well-made tool in my palm, the satisfaction of dirt, grease, and grass disappearing beneath an old rag. The bouquet of quality machine lubrication, a scent I often leave on my hands for the rest of the day, to bring a smile as I sit before my computer or my clients, groping through the realm of abstractions.

Here's what I've been able to learn so far, in no particular order:

• Repair flats, in all the many varieties
• Apply handlebar tape
• Install/remove pedals
• Remove, replace, adjust front and rear derailleur
• True a wheel with either traditional or bladed spokes
• Straighten derailleur hanger
• Remove/replace handlebar stem
• Lower/raise handlebars
• Adjust sidepull and mechanical disc brakes
• Install/remove fenders, rack
• Properly fit a bike -- seat height, bar reach, etc.

I'm proud of this list because it took years to compile. I'm not essentially mechanically oriented; Mrs. V. does almost all the repairs around the house, having been raised by a very handy father. 

About the only items that caused long-term frustration were the front and rear derailleur adjustments. I went years before I realized the role that the limit screws can play in easing a shift up to the bigger ring in the front. I was setting the screws by the book -- allowing a minimal clearance between derailleur cage and chainring -- and then trying to make the cable do all the work. Allowing a bit more play in the limit setting allowed me to ease up a bit on the cable tension and nail that shift. No mechanic, including the one I'd paid to teach me, ever mentioned this. Perhaps it's not even kosher -- but it works like a charm, every time.

In the rear, the magic wand was my new derailleur hanger adjustment tool. It's a beautiful Park Tool piece which cost upwards of $50.00, but was worth every penny. No one ever told me that some derailleur hangers bend when you simply look at them funny, nor that the very slightest misalignment means you will never, never be able to properly adjust your shifting in back. If you're unable to find the sweet spot with your barrel adjuster, and you've got trouble shifting both up and down, and your chain and cassette are not worn out, don't worry: you're not crazy. You just need to align your hanger. Once you do, the thing will shift just as smooth as silk, and your next ride will be soooo pleasing.

Finally, here are the repairs I'd still like to master:

• Remove/install chain (this one probably just requires an occasion to try)
• Install/remove brake and derailleur cables/housing
• Install/remove crankset
• Install/remove bottom bracket
• Install/remove cassette (probably just need chain whip)

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(Edit, 9/7/13: Added "apply handlebar tape" to can-do list.)

Review: Just Ride, by Grant Petersen

Like so many cycling fanatics I know, I recently got my hands on a copy of this lovely little paperback, unusually tall, narrow, and well-designed (and released by Workman Publishng, New York, 2012).

I'm familiar with all the Petersen critiques -- he's a fanatic, too militantly unfashionable, too stuck on his own eccentricity. Well, it turns out that, no matter what rules you make up, they'll apply to some folks somewhere, and between his storied history at Bridgestone and his leadership at Rivendell, Petersen built himself a soap-box just tall enough to reach each one of that select few -- and created a sub-culture in the process.

Myself, I'm leery of cults of personality. Petersen's a master marketeer: his copy on the Riv website is enchanting and insidious. It feels just like it was written after hours over a beer and a burrito by a guy who deeply cares how you feel on a bike. Eventually, after one too many mini-articles touting his latest nouveau-retro innovation, I start worrying that my bike is too light, my tires are too narrow, and my handlebars are too low. 

He's got magnetism to spare; it's that Cali surfer-dude allure, shared with guys like Gary Fisher and, well, Jeff Bridges. It just makes the Northeasterner in me suspicious. 

And yet, I found gems in these pages. I like Petersen for his strong advocacy of common-sense bicycling. It supports my ongoing attempts to de-compete myself, to turn into a knowledgeable bike rider who has handsome, useable bikes, instead of a pseudo-racer trying to keep up with the latest guy who burned me. This is the book's main thrust -- the freeing of bicycling from the deleterious influence of professional bike racing -- and, for that, it gets three stars.

Turns out the book is a lot like Petersen: Charming, a touch too self-consciously quirky, and yet, occasionally alarmingly helpful. 

Face it -- sitting through the rantings of a guy who's been taste-making in the bike business for decades is always going to be worth it. I say, go for it. 

If you're unsure, do as I did, and request a copy through your local library. Or, splurge and buy yourself one; when all's said and done. the man runs an honest and passionate business, and that's a value we all need to support.