patent 7815207 – Page 5

The Rorschach Pelican Test

Feb 142012

This is not a picture of the most phallic pinwheel ever.

What do you see when you look at the pitches for Kickstarter projects? Having founded a company before, I see a lot of hard work necessary to make something worth owning, but I’m not sure every budding DIY entrepreneur shares that same feeling.

Next week I fly to Portland to talk to a guy about a bike. Actually a lot of bikes. Given recent non-disclosable developments with this whole suspension system I designed, I’ve been thinking a lot about the viability of a new bike company. Some very serious people I admire and respect have expressed interest in doing something with the design I’ve patented, and I’m humbled and more motivated than ever to develop some bikes. I think I’m just waiting for a fortune cookie that says, “Make bikes, dumbass.”

Like every other company that doesn’t exist yet, this one would conceivably be currently in the “seeking funding” stage. Carbon fiber molds ain’t cheap. Under the circumstances, I’ve been thinking about my old friend, Kickstarter. Could you use Kickstarter to help launch a bike company?

A lot of the bike projects I continue to see on Kickstarter tend toward the thinner definition of “manufacturing.” The t-shirt above, for instance, can be yours for only $60 if you’d like to help fund Alden Seats, a guy’s venture wrapping already produced bicycle saddles in stylish “brogue style” leather, which, one imagines transforms them from boring old “saddles” to luxurious “seats.” Brogue is the new hotness, and these saddles are fetching, if slippery and potentially brick-like.

Likewise, the artisan behind this, Carson Leh, seems like a nice enough fellow. It’s just that most of what I see on Kickstarter has a kind of non-committal quality, whereas I’m talking about actually producing things that would cost a lot of money to develop and a lot of money to buy. Consider Carson’s bio from his project page:

Son of the Pacific Coast, born in Marin County, raised in beautiful Port Townsend Washington and a graduate of Western Washington University. I’m currently enjoying America’s Riviera known as West LA. I spend my summers rafting the great rivers of the west from Arizona to Alaska. When not trying my hands at winemaking, architecture, and everything in-between, you can find me jumping curb cuts on my bike, eating tamales and climbing the waterfalls in Malibu.”

While my politics trend toward “angry-hippie” as much as anything else, Carson strikes me as primarily a young man with a bit of a work ethic issue. I’m apparently old and unhip enough to believe that if you’re quite literally asking people to give you money, you might want to tone down the “my life’s a perpetual vacation” thing a little. But, as indicated, I’m a stickler for accountability, and not entirely at ease with the latest forms of do-it-yourself business. If I were to consider partially funding a major production effort through Kickstarter, I’d just assume I had to be absolutely and unquestionably accountable to my investors. I’d have a hell of a lot to do, and I honestly don’t think it’d leave that much time for exploring “winemaking, architecture, and everything in-between,” and I can guarantee my waterfall climbing skills would go all to hell.

The dynamics of the new DIY economy are unique, though. Consider that one of the comments for the “Alden Seats” project states simply, “Carson…can’t I please have a t-shirt?” Clearly there’s some new form of “meta-freeloading” out there, wherein even asking people to give you money prompts some people to reply asking for a free t-shirt.

So could a new bike with what’s potentially the world’s greatest suspension system be partially funded by the people, for the people? It’s something I’m wondering. What do you think? We’d be talking straight gift certificates redeemable for their full amount. Maybe some t-shirts at a reasonable investment price, but I promise no bullshit poster pamphlets for those who’d donate their hard earned cash to the effort, and I vow, here and now, never to show that angle of a pelican on any t-shirt we’d ever make.

Low Resolutions

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Jan 242012

My New Year’s resolution was to have a better fucking attitude about shit. I’ve found it takes a lot of coffee. And practice. I’m getting better at it, though. Case in point: I’m going to bring you good news today.

Samuel B. Gause Retrieves Stolen Bike

Who’s Samuel B. Gause? He’s a Chemistry student at the University of Florida who’s once again the proud owner of an IRO Angus. Gause’s bike was stolen this past Sunday, but he found it for sale on Craig’s List and got his sting operation on, setting up a meeting to check out the bike and calling the Gainesville police, who ended up arresting one Collin D. Smith, a 5’6″ tall, 140-pound man who’d apparently been charged with battery and burglary the previous year. Gause, who appears to be nearly tall enough to race cyclocross for Kona Bicycles, sounds like a nice guy who was clearly nervous as hell setting up his first foray into crime fighting, and I’m happy he got his bike back. According to The Alligator, Smith, who was arrested and charged with grand theft and dealing in stolen property by use of the Internet didn’t return a phone call requesting comment, presumably because he was in jail. I suspect The Alligator also has incredibly poor luck receiving comments from deceased individuals and victims of kidnappings. Based on what we know, however, we can assume that Smith’s comment would have been something like, “You tall people with your fucking giant-ass bikes! I will find you all, and I will tilt your saddles into extremely uncomfortable angles! No jail will hold me, and I will find you! Gloating, towering, bicycle-riding, lanky bitches! You think you’re so great! I will find you all! I will make you so uncomfortable!”

Smith is currently being held pending extradition to Portland.

Something Completely Different

I know I’ve also been bitching a lot about the lack of innovative products out there lately, but I’m happy to report some people are still pushing the envelope. My friend Josh just let me know about a little company called Solstice.

Solstice owner and designer, Chuck Dunlap, is focused on making one frame. One pretty wild, innovative, patented suspension frame. The Solstice is built around something Dunlap calls an “inverted 4-bar,” and that really does make sense once you look at it.

I’ve noticed the fashionable thing to say about a totally unique suspension design you’ve only seen in photos is: “Looks like it has a vertical axle path.” Word is this does, however, have a pretty vertical axle path, something I was after with my design, too.

It doesn’t look particularly stiff, but there’s an article about the design in the Mountain Flyer, and it claims the rear end on this bike tracks great, and that it pedals well and absolutely stomps nasty terrain. Very interesting stuff.

The swingarm parts are cold forged, which is pretty cool and makes me wonder how a tiny bike company producing only a handful of frames can manage to create such a clean and professional looking machine. There’s a kind of beautiful simplicity to the design, despite the complexity of the suspension.

The Solstice features a fully “floating” rear shock, which is another way of saying it has a shock that doesn’t anchor to the main frame anywhere; instead, it “floats” or bolts to moving parts of the suspension system on each of its ends. Sandwiching a shock between two moving suspension members is scary stuff, as the shock rates can get really difficult to manage, but Dunlap’s design looks very well thought out.

The bike is getting 160mm of travel and no, there is no 29er version out there, as far as I know. At over seven pounds, it ain’t light, but there seems to be no reason this design needs to weigh much more than similar frames, so I think the heft represents a bit of caution on the part of Solstice. Better to have the occasional complaint about the weight, than to run into problems.

Most importantly, seeing this really cheered me up. Just the idea that here’s a guy hell-bent on making innovative new products–products that literally turn conventional wisdom upside down.

This is nice, this being positive bullshit. I think I can tolerate it in small doses.

I need a fourth cup of coffee.

How-to Edition: Get $1.5M and Calculate Your Shock Rate

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Dec 192011

Learning things one of the reasons I love figuring out how to do stuff like design a bicycle suspension system. I like knowing how things work–or, more precisely, it bothers me when I don’t know how things work. I’m also one of those people who learns by doing, and by having a project. I learned whatever basic programming languages and design ideas I could from needing to build a web site to sell stuff and not having enough money to pay somebody else to do it for me. Nothing motivates like a project, needing to get something done in order to make some money.

Nevertheless, there’s a lot to be said for having lots of money first. I’d often suspected the correct method for launching a new company looked like this:

Raise at least a million bucks
Get some friends together
Try to think of something to build with the money

Now Vimeo founder and dysfunctional nerd pseudolebrity Jake Lodwick is attempting to prove me right.

Yes, Lodwick has apparently raised $1.5-million for an idea he’s yet to have. Or maybe raising the money will turn out to have been the idea itself–in a kind of meta-statement about the inherent risk of VC funding. All tech startup guys are performance artists at heart, you know. Particularly the ones who can’t code for shit.

At any rate, congratulations to Mr. Lodwick for breaking new ground in combining dubious fame with virtual productivity and value. Even the most grievous example of self-promoting human furniture hasn’t yet figured how to literally get something for nothing.

Given all the white noise around guys like this, it can be difficult to determine just how much genuine intellectual property is being created in the U.S. today, but by almost any measurement, we still think up a lot of stuff.

Still, we seem to have a lot of disco-entrepreneurs like Mr. ~~Hoodwinked~~ Lodwick, versus some increasingly impressive young kids in other countries who are doing some pretty amazing stuff. Consider Nick D’Aloisio, a 16-year-old kid from London whose app, Summly, has some patents pending in the way it uses artificial intelligence, machine learning and ontology to summarize passages of text. One wonders if the D’Aloisio family sedan features a rear window sticker promising “our honor student makes computers smarter than your honor student,” but, according to TheNextWeb, he’s still pretty down to earth and will be staying in school,

currently studying Chemistry, Physics, Biology, Maths, English . . . Latin, Chinese, Russian, philosophy and history

That’s right: “maths.” I don’t think it’s a typo.

It also appears he’s electing to still live with his parents as opposed to buying those stupid sunglasses and moving to Silicon Valley. It sounds twisted to even suggest, but it’s almost as if he didn’t get into the startup game for the money and fame. It’s almost as if he just likes learning and making things.

At any rate, this weekend I learned a few things myself. First, the “gingerbread” Christmas tree decoration that my son brought home from school was not, in fact, edible, even though it smelled like cinnamon (I’ve had worse food at McDonald’s). Second, I learned how to create both rising and falling shock rates in suspension systems, and how to tell at a glance whether your bike’s suspension gets softer or firmer through the mid-range as it compresses.

Falling Rate/Counterclockwise Rocker

Salsa’s new Horsethief starts off firmer, then softens up through the midrange, then firms up again toward the end of its travel. All that information is contained in the upper link seen in the photo. Seen from the drive side like this, the upper link on the Horsethief rotates counter-clockwise, tracing a rough “U” in the air. There have been plenty of bikes that used a similar suspension system, but the Horsethief and Spearfish are really helpful to study, because it’s clear just from looking at them what that upper link does. Normally impacts on the rear wheel would be driving the seat stays almost directly toward the shock, but the little link there is clearly keeping that from happening. Instead of compressing directly, the force driving into the shock is sent on a small detour, looping down before starting to straighten out in line with the shock again. That detour slows the compression of the shock and increases the leverage ratio, making the bike’s suspension softer through that mid-section. Once the link moves far enough to start bringing the force back in line with the shock, the leverage decreases and the suspension gets firmer again.

Same thing with the Santa Cruz VPP system’s upper link, which lets the leverage on the shock increase slightly once the bike is into its travel. Keep in mind you can’t generalize much past the “softer in the middle” part, because the rate of rotation on the two rockers of the VPP system creates a unique scenario, but any arc that translates the rear axle’s movement into a counter-clockwise rotation should yield a suspension system that softens somewhere in the middle.

Rising Rate/Clockwise Rotation

Now consider the DW-link on a Pivot Mach 5.7. Don’t pay any attention to the location of the shock, but check out the orientation of the linkage here: it rotates clockwise, the opposite of the Salsa. That difference generates a rising rate suspension system, or one that firms up as the bike compresses. It’s the rotation of the rocker that dictates the mid-stroke shock rate.

Which way is better? Both. It’s not that simple by any means, and there are good arguments to be made about each method. If you want to know more about what shock rate means and how it works, you should check out Santa Cruz engineer Joe Graney’s excellent article about it, but all you really need to know is that higher numbers are firmer and lower numbers are softer. There could be some exceptions to these rules, but they’d have to have some pretty funky other stuff going on, like really complicated linkages.

What do Summly and shock rates have in common? Discovery. For me, there’s nothing quite like the feeling of discovering something–particularly when it’s a scientific principle you aren’t properly educated to have realized existed in the first place. It’s sort of amazing to discover stuff in the process of trying to create something, and I think everybody should constantly push toward discovering something new that’s maybe just a little intimidating. Instead of just buying a new part to replace something that’s broken, try taking the old one apart first and looking around in there. Instead of searching for a new app, search for instructions about how to make your own. I’m a firm believer that artists should program computers and engineers should start businesses. About the only positive thing I’m sure I’m teaching my kids is that great ideas are earned by constantly trying new things.

Except gingerbread Christmas tree ornaments.

Sell Yourself

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Dec 122011

Having written about some of the stupid and narcissistic examples of “projects” on Kickstarter, it’s only fair to draw attention to the polar opposite: the stuff that’s really very good. And the most really very good I’ve seen is Twine, a tiny square that can sense stuff going on in the world around it and text, tweet or email you to let you know what’s doing on.

Note the way this project, which has raised over $300,000 so far, is the opposite of, say, a self-obsessed plea for somebody to fund you basically watching your own paint dry. Not to be overly harsh to the artistic side of Kickstarter, which does have some merit and every once in a while probably changes the world and all, but I much prefer a world in which, in order to be paid, you have to produce a good or provide a service to someone other than yourself.

Tough to say when I’ll just learn to quit bitching and take advantage of things–maybe launch a campaign wherein I ask people to contribute money in return for me letting them watch “the development of one of my blog posts, from blank page to finished work.” A five dollar contribution buys you a word, which I must incorporate into the piece somewhere. For $1,000 you can title the thing. Better still, for $15 I let you submit three random references that I will connect with an almost coherent critical thought–like The White Stripes, The Lord of the Rings, and the word “platypus.”

Somehow Meg White’s halting, simplistic drumming works because it’s stumbling along behind the almost incomprehensible talent of Jack White, a man who makes even gifted musicians look childish and insincere, and a man wise enough to know you get a hobbit to carry your rings, or play your drums. We can’t all be tigers and cobras, Meg. Even rock and roll needs the occasional platypus on drums.”

Surely, somebody’s done this sort of thing already–I mean convince people to pay them for essentially nothing. In fact, I’ve had more than one experience in business that proves it.

Twine, on the other hand, offers a product that could actually be used to do something, a product that does not leave you completely reliant on how interesting the interior of an artists head will or will not be once you’re allowed your peek inside. If you want to pay to watch people doodle, great–it’s your money–but in Twine you have a project that’s actually able to deliver a product, and a pretty cool product, too, a versatile sensor that can gather different pieces of information about what’s going on around it physically and turn that into messages for you. The artsy-fartsy aspect of Twine is simply that you have to figure out how you want to use a new kind of product, and that’s a big part of the appeal, too, but at the end of the day, you’ve contributed to the development of a product. The whole crowdsourcing applications of a new device and company developing a close-knit relationship with beta testers and early adopters and stuff makes a lot of sense for the two guys making these, but there’s also full transparency, here: they can make these things, and if you want in, here’s how you get in. It strikes me that this is how American business is supposed to work.

I’ve not yet seen an equivalent Kickstarter project involving, for instance, a new type of credit default swap or other dubious “financial product.”

At least not that I’ve found yet.

Meanwhile, my own attempts to Create Something continue to convince me I should either play the stock market or learn to grow my own food. See that nearly vertical blue 190.5mm long line toward the right? That’s the new shock position.

In order to get things just as I want them, it’s looking like I’m going to have to go with the Giant Maestro-esque “low shock” configuration, which should work just fine, except that everybody will think my design’s like a Giant, which will cause me to say things like, “Motherfucker!” all the time. Given the lower rocker position, I’m thinking about a pretty open machined triangle coming up from the bottom bracket shell. I think this could be made pretty light and extremely stiff.

Of all shock positions, the low vertical orientation turns out to work particularly well for this design, which is a little unusual. I’d initially thought a more horizontal shock was going to be the way to go, but, even though it looks like my swingarm is rocking forward, the front of it is really rocking about straight down.

Instead of being a ~~DW-link~~ Maestro system like the Giant, my shit actually pivots around the center of its own swingarm. Meaning the instant center is behind the bottom bracket and that I can make my rear axle move absolutely vertically if wanted it to. I don’t, but, given how much I like tire clearance and 29ers, I wanted a design that would let me get true vertical axle path and everything else that’s even close to it. I also wanted a bike that felt tight, like a dirt jump bike from the bottom bracket back.

Balancing out all the options is the biggest pain in the ass. So how much chain growth is really too much chain growth? How noticeable is a shock rate of .40 versus .43? Once I make the final decisions, I’m in for some assembly rebuilding. No fun.

I have to admit, it’d be much easier to try to get sponsored for drawing drivetrains in Steve Jobs’ head.

Vertical Integration

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Dec 012011

At market close today, Lululemon’s stock was down over 5%, after having been down more than 11% earlier in the day. I don’t mention this to suggest I had anything to do with it, but I did. Everyone knows that most savvy investors make decisions based on three things:

The weight and type of fish CNBC Senior Economics Reporter Steve Liesman has caught most recently.
A complex algorithm involving the peaks and troughs of bite patterns produced by Warren Buffet.
Shit I type.

How fortunate for anyone short selling stretchy pants that I was so direct for once. Usually, the big players on Wall Street have to guess what I’m talking about after first decoding all kinds of whiny bullshit about bicycles and bad people. Which reminds me, here’s what’s really going on with the financial crisis in Europe:

But I’m not the only one sending messages. Turns out “comment spam” is one of the negative side-effects that comes with flinging rants and random thoughts out over the interwebs. The funny thing about comment spam is that it has to be written in a general enough way to apply to any subject whatsoever, and that makes it pretty funny to read. Here are some examples (typos have been left in, because they seem to be intentional attempts at authenticity):

“What I find so interesting is you could never find this anyrwhee else.”
Yes, I too find that interesting, Mr. Spam. We should get together and talk about how one person’s thoughts always seem to be slightly different from everyone else’s collective thoughts.
“We’ve arivred at the end of the line and I have what I need!”
Still comically vague, but also kind of ominous, that one. Makes me feel like I just rode the subway with Herman Cain.
“Time to face the music armed with this great infmroation.”
Yes, by all means, change your life based on some shit somebody you don’t know posted on a blog.
“Great cmmoon sense here. Wish I’d thought of that.”
You know what else if common sense? Spelling the word “common.” I’m not aware of any keyboard in which the “m” key is easily mistaken for the “m” key. Seriously, go ahead and try to type “cmmoon”: it’s barely possible when you’re trying, let alone possible to create by accident.

I delete these because they’re obviously junk, but does anyone out there know why people send these? They don’t seem sophisticated enough to be trying to dig their way into databases, and even if they did, I don’t have any useful information anyway, because I’m just writing a stupid blog. What are these things supposed to accomplish?

And what am I trying to accomplish? Another week spent crunching shock rates to no avail. I’m not sure why I keep being attracted to shit that’s not easy, but I need to knock it off. I do believe I’ve narrowed possible options down to a vertical shock position, though, so the nearly perfectly vertical blue line here is my current projected shock position.

Might mean I’m going to have to get my Giant Maestro on and go with something like a pierced downtube, but I’m thinking it would be no big deal to expand the machined part that houses the lower rocker (I’ve been calling this the “crankcase”) to include a lower mount for the shock. It’s possible that could be a single machined piece, which should be pretty light and should be able to create a huge surface for a not-too-hairy miter and lots of weld bead surface. We’ll see.

Thanks Giving

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Nov 282011

At some point during my turkey-induced lethargy over the past few days, the notorious Dirty Dozen took place in Pittsburgh, an event wherein cyclists seek out the most absurd climbs in the Pittsburgh area and ride their bicycles up them. Once upon a time, I sponsored a talented young man named Montana Miller, and this year he broke course records for running a 36×17 gear combination for the event. I’ll let you contemplate that for a while as you stare at this photo, taken by Jon Pratt, of Montana taking care of business.

36x17, bitches.

Montana is a fine writer, and little bit like a real-life action figure, which makes following his adventures worthwhile.

Speaking of poets and super-men, if only Friedrich Nietzsche could have lived long enough to see his work help Kanye West side-step a lawsuit. For me, the most interesting part of the entire article is that another rapper rhymed “stronger” with “wronger” and referenced Kate Moss, but the Nietzsche assertion that “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” is also pretty fun to imagine as the meme du jour for corporate and wanna-be corporate pop stars.

And what is it that guys like Kanye and other corporate Movers and Shakers are made stronger by enduring? Why us, of course. Mediocrity.

And you know who else grows stronger just from having to tolerate our pathetic existence? Chip Wilson, the founder of yoga retail powerhouse Lululemon, whose company has begun printing the catchphrase from my girl, Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged on the company’s shopping bags.

I don't know, but I'll bet he looks good in yoga pants and an overpriced hoodie.

The funniest part of all of this is the dippy, new-age self-empowerment spin Lululemon’s trying to put on Rand’s decidedly un-zen-like philosophy of personal gain at all costs. The company’s blog page has this to say about the bags.

Our bags are visual reminders for ourselves to live a life we love and conquer the epidemic of mediocrity. We all have a John Galt inside of us, cheering us on. How are we going to live lives we love?

Yes, how? Surely not by thinking about others–or even acknowledging the existence of others–but rather, by being really fucking thankful we were born into enough privilege to afford $68 yoga mats and dime store philosophy, easily digestible by the Kardashianic masses.

Well, almost. I have to admit that, as positive self-affirmative aphorisms go, I don’t get this one–and yes, this is really something that’s actually written on one of their bags: “Children are the orgasm of life. Just like you did not know what an orgasm was before you had one, nature does not let you know how great children are until you actually have them.”

Holy shit.

But as frankly tone-deaf and disturbing as whatever-the-fuck that was supposed to mean might be, Lulu’s recent evocation of the Great Capitalist Virgin/Whore Pin-up Girl, Rand, is just a touch more disturbing still, because it confuses Rand’s philosophy with innocent snake-oil self-empowerment nonsense. The almost beautiful irony here is that Chip Wilson’s philosophy for Lululemon is to “elevate the world from mediocrity to greatness.” Granted, that’s probably as much bullshit as his sea-weed powered fabric, but it does fit within the bounds of Rand’s philosophy. The part that nobody likes to talk about with Rand, though, is that there are losers. Lots of them. Probably about 99% of the world. And still more important: at the end of the day, Rand is writing a justification for spoils that went to a victor for, well, some reason–that’s where fiction can be really convenient. One guy is really good at copper mining, which is clearly a skill one is endowed with at birth, and like Galt’s magic engine that runs on virtually nothing, Rand doesn’t care to go into details about how these people came to acquire this knowledge.

Presumably, there were just born that way. Better. And preternaturally disgusted by the stink of mediocrity all around them.

See where this starts to build some friction against the idea of self-empowerment? Like enough friction to power a magic engine its own self? The joke is that it’s a caste system. It’s closed to most of us. Who is John Galt? Not you, pal. In order for Rand’s philosophy to work at all, the whole concept of self-improvement has to be eliminated as an option.

Me, I want to be a guy who finishes designing a suspension system for a bicycle, and I believe Malcolm Gladwell’s right about proficiency requiring about 10,000 hours of energy. Why? Because I believe whichever intellectual has better hair, and Malcolm’s mad genius thing absolutely smites Rand’s “the logical purpose for hair is to protect your head from the sun, even if you never go outside” vibe.

But the most amazing thing of all is that we live in a world where a guy who made his fortune selling overpriced yoga clothing can claim to be “elevating the world from mediocrity to greatness.” That such an idea can exist–even as marketing–suggests our whole scale is off. It suggests, ladies and gentlemen, that the people flying Rand’s flag are not, in fact, the doers and the makers of the world, but those looking to explain their absurd success to themselves.

People like Dean Kamen and Dick Proenneke can make and do things, and maybe there are even some Ayn Rand fans out there who can actually do something, too. Here’s how I can usually tell: someone capable of actually doing something may talk about him or herself, but seems to really be speaking about everyone; someone who’s never truly created anything–maybe not since sixth grade–tends to talk a lot about everyone, but always seems to really only be talking about himself.

Anyway, still working on shock rates. I’ll leave you with a photo of my other favorite Lulu, which pretty much exemplifies life inside your own privileged bullshit bubble.

Survival of the Unfittest

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Nov 262011

After a few days eating turkey and banging my head against my keyboard, I realize I’ve officially entered the “negative obsession” phase of work on my suspension frame, wherein there is nothing even remotely enjoyable about the process and yet I keep working on it pretty much relentlessly. In some ways, the 2007 me who developed the concept for this and put through the patent on the design did 2011 me a huge favor: I have a cozy little intellectual property bubble within which to work away refining things. Nevertheless, I’d very much like to punch 2007 me in the throat for making that bubble really little and apparently out of steel, which makes for a design that’s apparently impossible to finish. All I need now are some acceptable shock rates and a slightly less Dr. Seuss shock position, but that’s seeming hard to come by. Many times, I’ve come really close, only to hit a brick wall and have to redesign everything from the ground up.

Endless revision makes for a lot of lines.

So I called a time out today, oranged up to reduce drawing friendly fire, and took the ‘cross bike out for a while–and I’m glad I did, because I actually encountered an exotic species of Mountain Hipster, a smiling guys on lugged steel bikes, one wearing a plaid cap in place of a helmet. They’d just climbed the back road up the mountain and had four miles of poorly graveled road to look forward to before heading down the sketchier Route 30 descent back into town. I’ve seen bear, porcupines, rattlesnakes (too many), foxes, giant-ass-snapping turtles, and turkey vultures up here, but I’ve never seen anyone on a lugged bike with a jaunty cap. Good day.

Halfway down to the spring where I was filling up the water bottle before heading home, I passed Brian, a friend, dedicated racer, and owner of many nice bikes. He had the titanium Indy Fab ‘cross bike out, and we ended up riding back up the mountain together. This was a complicated process for me because:

I am fat and weak
Brian is insanely fit–fit way beyond just racing bicycles fit. Fit
We had plenty to catch up on, which meant talking while climbing
See #1 above

Before getting back to a batch of tech questions I need to answer for Dirt Rag and the next 1,000 hours I need to spend trying to design a bicycle, I’ll share a tip I have for climbing while having a conversation with someone approximately seventeen times more fit than you are: the key is something I call asymmetric conversing, and it goes like this:

Superfit Racer: “Have you talked to George lately?”

Fat Weakling: “No, no [with feeling].” (Note: minimum syllables and air required to produce those sounds, and the “with feeling” part says, “But have you? Please tell me about it?”)

Superfit Racer: “He’s doing pretty well. I usually talk to him about once a week.”

Fat Weakling: “Wife good?”

Superfit Racer: “Yep, they’re getting situated in their new house. Have you had any bites on the building in Laughlintown? Is it still for sale?”

Fat Weakling: “No, no [again, with feeling].”

Superfit Racer: “So anything you’re working on right now?”

Fat Weakling: “No. Do you believe in God, and why?”

See that? The key is to breath as much as possible by keeping the fit friend talking as much as possible. Think tennis: the more time the ball spends on the other side of the court, the better off you are. It’s simple survival.

And speaking of survival, I’d previously mentioned my idea for a truly tough, Tough Mudder event, but having found out about a guy named Dick Proenneke, I’d like to revise that. Keep your sissy heart rate monitors and tribal tattoos: my newest idea for a competition is to see who can build his or her own cabin in the Alaskan wilderness and live there alone for thirty freaking years. Anything less, and you’re a pampered little bitch.

I call dibs on producing the series, and the celebrity version, so no funny ideas, Mark Burnett.

Suspension Design for Dummies: Chain Growth vs. Long Chainstays

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Nov 222011

I haven’t been producing all that much hairy pseudo-engineering frame project dilemma blues lately, have I? Mostly psycho-socio-politico rants. As it turns out, I’m still trying to make a bicycle frame, and it’s still a lot like having a super violent bar fight all by yourself. Geeks, this one’s for you.

Ah, life’s timeless questions. Like how much chain growth is acceptable at full travel?

Designed for 29er wheel tire clearance and short chainstays at full travel, my original design was a near vertical axle path. I mean really near vertical. We’re talking a few millimeters. Vertical.

That all adds up to one thing: crazy short chainstays, a characteristic I’m pursuing in a big way on this design, but the trade-off is potential “pedal kickback.”

Depending on which suspension guru you’re talking to, and which side of the bed he or she got out of that morning, pedal kickback is either a nominal concern or the holy-freakin-grail. What is it? Well, there’s this line of torque that drives your bicycle. When you do your mad flailing attempts at pedaling a bike, the energy of your legs rotates the crankset and thus chainring, and at that point, power runs across the top of your chain like a group of magic little elves. It’s that top of the chain–the path that runs from the top of your chainring to the top of your cassette–that’s under tension and is propelling your bike along for you.

Well, when you add a rear wheel that can go up and down relative to the bottom bracket on your bike, you’ve done some strange things to the length of that line. What exactly you did to it depends on where your bike’s pivot center point is (most of those center points or centers of curvature are “virtual” or move around, though it’s easy to find the center point of a single-pivot bike: it’s just the pivot location). That center of curvature point created by the location of the pivots on a suspension frame determines the shape of your axle path.

Red line represents pure vertical, but the arcs of actual axle paths are determined by the center of curvature.

So as your rear wheel goes up and down, the magical “power line” connecting your chainring gear and the gear driving your rear wheel tracks along with the arc of your axle path–the one that’s being created by that center of curvature.

All this just means your chain gets long and shorter as the suspension moves through its travel. How much deviation in chain length you have affects whether or not your bike’s suspension system tugs backward on your chain (which sucks if not moderated effectively) or slackens your chain (which also is no fun). Usually, the point at which your suspension is the most compressed is the problem, as that’s the point at which the distance from your chain’s engagement on your chainring to its engagement point on a given rear cog is the greatests. That hurt my head even to type, so here’s an image. Check out the gray numbers. Those represent the length of the chain when the bike isn’t compressed (494.76mm) and when it’s compressed all the way (495.63mm).

Note the gray numbers: 494.76 (uncompressed) and 495.63 (fully compressed).

In order to get those numbers so close to one another, I had to redesign my frame, and what I traded was approximately 8mm of chainstay length.

So here’s my question to hardcore bike nerds out there: Which is more important, minimizing that chain growth at the end of the bike’s travel, or having really short chainstays?

I’m really only concerned with end of the axle path (full compression). If you have a vertical axle path, your chain grows a good bit (like up to 10mm), but if you arc your axle path inward slightly at the end, you can all but eliminate any chain growth. During the rest of the axle’s path, I’m still going to have very little rearward axle movement. It’ll be there, but it’ll be minimal. So the big question is how far forward to eliminate chain growth do I let the axle roam at the end of the bike’s travel? The further it moves in to maintain consistent chain length, the less clearance between the rear wheel and the frame’s seat tube.

Anyway, that’s what I’m working on right now, instead of sleeping.

Made in the U.S.A.?

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Nov 072011

One of the criticisms I often hear of high-end bike companies is that all of their frames are made in Taiwan (or, increasingly, China). The assumption here is that production costs in developing countries are so low that brands are outsourcing to drive up their profits and make more money–and that’s usually a pretty good assumption. But as a guy trying to get a prototype frame built, so far it’s been my impression that Taiwan is not the cheapest, but rather the only place to do it.

I hope I’ll be proven wrong, but so far companies in Taiwan, and their trading agents, have proven to be drastically more responsive and interested in building the frame. Stateside builders I’ve talked with either lack resources and need a year or more to get something built, or don’t seem interested in getting back to me. And that sucks. I’d rather build this prototype here. In an ideal world, I’d even like to have options in a fabricator, and get this single frame built in six months.

But what’s become pretty obvious to me is that there’s just not much small-scale manufacturing going on here. That isn’t to say we can’t make things. In a backyard DIY sort of way, we’re still the top of the food chain. We still have enough of a middle class that once upon a time had disposable income for some of us to have small machine shops and painting booths in our garages, and we know how to genuinely create something. But we seem to go straight from “I have a friend who can MIG weld” to “Alcoa,” without all that much in between.

No, we’re more of a “Service Economy,” which means we better hope they keep opening new Starbucks.

At least BikeRumour was showing off some serious hardware that’s U.S. made.

Speaking of the prototype I’ve looking to create, most of the questions I’ve been getting revolve around (pun intended) the lower rocker. Here’s a detail shot:

One of the patented aspects of the design is the position of that lower rocker. Unlike a lot of short lower rocker orientations, this design lets the swingarm attach at the front of the rocker–ahead of where the rocker attaches to the frame. This allows for several things I believe to be very good, but one key characteristic of the design is a 29’er-friendly axle path.

Most people can understand that the larger diameter rear wheel causes clearance issues with the frame–in particular, once a bump force acts on the suspension and moves the rear wheel upward, it doesn’t take long for that arcing big wheel to get really close to the bike’s seat tube. That part’s pretty straightforward. But a 29er’s bottom bracket also sits lower relative to a bike with 26″ wheels. Because of that lower bottom bracket (aka “increased bottom bracket drop”), a totally unladen 29er is a little like a 26″ wheeled bike that’s already partway into its rear travel.

Center of the bottom bracket sits significantly below the axle.

This all means that axle path relative to that bottom bracket shell is critical on a 29er. (In the process of working this out, I looked at Niner’s CVA system, which is a pretty brilliant way to deal with the challenges of the added bottom bracket drop on a 29er.) Getting sufficient travel without having to shove the seat tube forward (shortening the effective length of the rider’s compartment) or pushing wheel out behind the rider with longer chainstays (which can decrease maneuverability and make the bike ride “flat footed”), is a challenge.

After a whole lot of hours testing rocker widths, angles, and orientations, I believe I’ve found an axle path that will let a 29er be as agile as most 26″ wheeled bikes. There was also a very specific effect I wanted to see happen with the swingarm, and I’ll have some more on that later.

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