Donatello Does Machines: The Barker PM Mill

Adventures in Craigslist volume 231:  A horizontal mill in Williams, the next town over, and given the fascination and the rarity of affordable heavy (or otherwise) machinery here in AZ, I figured it was worth a trip over to check out.  It followed me home from another old guy's shop, him sighting that it wasn't up to the task of planing metal that he had hoped it would accomplish.  In addition to the mill came 10 or so slotting cutters, a new (to me) drill press and two metal tables, or rather table parts shoddily cobbled together to look like tables.  The price seemed right and without driving upwards of 700 miles or paying freight, this stuff is hard to come by in these parts, so I forked over some bills and loaded up the truck.  That was at some point last summer and upon getting it unloaded and onto a bench to inspect I decided that a full overhaul was in order and there it set until I found the time to mess with it last month.

Now I'm no machinist, more of a machin-er at this point, definitely a tool junkie, but I am not exactly versed in what to look for in a good machine tool purchase.  What I saw that day in Williams looked like it had potential so I brought it home.  A little research found that this is the PMO model Barker horizontal mill, with overarm support for slotting operations.  It has a micrometer feed on the z-axis and lever feeds on the x and y axes.  The action in the feeds was functional with a little slop, but seemed serviceable so I proceeded with a mechanical overhaul of the gibbs and slides.  The 4x12" table appeared to have had a tool or two run into it, not showing true mill grade flatness, but seemed adequate enough to bolt up a vise; and a little bit of galling showed on the y axis slide, but cleaned up with a file to smooth and tight action.  Little bits of Phil Tenacious oil and grease, a bushing here, and a new bolt there and within a few hours this thing was feeling mechanically sound.  Now to make it run.  

So the information listed above was exactly all of the information I could find on this mill, save for the fact that it is still in production relatively unchanged over the last 60 years and that the current purchase comes with a five speed belt drive and low or high gear set.  This feature seemed to be absent on this unit.  The 1750 RPM motor was geared up with a 1x3 pulley system making it suitable to cut plastic.....maybe.  No wonder my man in Willville couldn't do anything with this machine.  To boot, when I took the bracket holding the reversible drum switch apart to get a better look at the wires in the rotting power cord, the plastic drum promptly crumbled in my hand as did the rubber once containing three strands of copper wire.  Add those to the parts list.  

As my reading turned up that these are intended to be setup for single task production (PM=production mill), my main hope for this unit was if nothing else dedicated chainstay mitering.  But looking at the over arm support and the slotting cutters that came with this machine, it seemed that slotting would also be among the tasks performed, as well as main tube mitering.  There really is not much to this thing so it seemed as though changing setups between tasks would not be too terribly time consuming.  

The most productive source of picture information I could find on this mill was eBay.  That said photos were not very lucrative here or anywhere.  I was hoping to get a look at the gearing system, particularly one with the rumored low gear drives.  Nothing surfaced so I went about designing a new belt pulley gear system for this mill.  Working backward from what I perceived to be this mill's future work loads, I came up with a range of usable speeds I thought would be adequate.  It seemed prudent to use the slotted clamp piece dangling on the "rocker spindle," that solid 3/4" bar that balances the mounted motor with the mill head, as the basis a tensioning spindle for an idler pulley on a two belt system.  Now the question would be one of what would fit this relatively small space AND allow me the most usable gear range.  Several evenings of calculations with an online Belt Pulley Calculator (linked) proved invaluable.  

Envisioning a usable gear range somewhere between 100-150 RPMs at the low end and 1000 RPMs at the high, the next factor to consider would be the block width of the pulleys and the load on the spindle and bearings at the mill head.  Looking through some general information on belt pulley dimensions it seemed that a 1/2" belt (type A) would be easy enough to find and a type A pulley would be easy enough to make on the lathe.  The overall width of one pulley is 3/4" so that would give me room for a 3 pulley stack on the 1" diameter head spindle.  Pulley diameters were chosen using the distance between centers feature in the pulley calculator and by matching belt lengths.  Changing the input/output values for RPMs, and working forward starting with the 1750 RPM motor, then backwards from my desired working RPMs allowed me to determine that a fully overlapping transmission (such as one found on say a 12 speed drill press) would not be feasible.  The gear diameters required within such a small space would not allow for this.  With some room to grow back toward the machine casting I determined that a 2 speed reduction system off the motor would drive an idler/tensioner pulley stack, giving a six speed transmission.  There really is a lot going on here spatially, so playing around with the calculator both forward and backward was what made this all possible.  Low gear on the motor was determined to be 2":8" and low gear off the idler was determined to be 2":6" giving an overall reduction of 1:12 and a calculated low spindle RPM of about 145.  From here, belt lengths were held constant to determine a higher set of gears for both systems allowing for equal throw in the tensioner that had yet to be designed.  A leap of good faith here that with these rough paper dimensions in belt pulley calculations, something could later be created to accommodate belt tensioning in the remaining space.

With pulley diameters determined, it was time to shop for material.  Aluminum seemed like the best choice for shaping on the lathe for speed sake, and cutoffs were substantially cheaper as they got shorter, so it seemed smart to bolt together the pulley stacks.  Doing so would also reduce time on the lathe.  I filled a 35 gallon trash can with the stringers of four pieces of aluminum.

Below are the finished (mostly) parts.  From left to right: head spindle drive pulley set, tensioner/idler pulley stack with pressed in bearings, tensioner pulley spindle, motor drive pulley, and tensioner mounting bracket, coffee, tooth brush.  Hope my mostly made up names make sense for those still following.

As assembly commenced, some tweaking and re-working of certain pieces was needed, mainly the tensioner mounting bracket and spindle underwent several modifications to allow for clearance in the now tight space between the main casting and the motor.  The motor also had to be moved back an inch or so and was accomplished with a plate with offset holes.  One of the belts was miscalculated an inch too short.  Otherwise the whole process was void of defeatist notions and tool throwing, always a plus when fabricating on a "leap of faith."  Below is how the setup came out under tension and operational as of last night.  

Below is a closer look at the back side of the tensioning setup.  The square plate is bolted to the spindle with the two button head screws at a tolerance that allows the spindle to slip freely in the slot of the gray mounting bracket.  Tension is provided by the screw on top passing through the mounting bracket and threaded in the spindle.  What can't be seen here is the face plate (think four bolt bike stem) that now holds the mounting bracket to the rocker spindle as the original pinch bolt just took up too much room.  Eventually I would like to add a quick release mechanism to the tensioner screw.

Had to make some custom hole saw arbors for the 1/2" 3c collet.  I'm not sure yet if these are beefy enough to handling cuts with hole saws up to two inches, but it gave me a reason to learn to thread on the lathe.  Next move may be to try and make some arbors that bypass the collet and tighten up directly with the draw bar.

Finally the mitering setup at first go.  The vise pictured here leaves a little to be desired as clearances are tight when turned to angle and the jaws are fairly short.  Successful miters were made, but some tweaking in the set up of the z-axis along with some centering jaws in the vise would be very helpful.

So 2014 was the year of machine acquisition, making 2015 the year of machine production.  In the year that promises hover boards and flying cars my resolution is to program myself as human robot from 100 years ago.  Thanks for reading!

The Green Plastic Bin of the Dells

This project started off as many do, with a ride.  Matt has been riding mountain bikes for as long as I have, maybe longer, and mostly here in AZ.  When the call came for a new bike, Matt had gotten to steal a ride on a friend's custom 29er.  He was thrilled and raved about it.  I figured it was time to take a trip down to Prescott to sample some of their geology.  Prescott riding is great, some of the best in Arizona.  Its super accessible, but offers most of what can be found in both Flagstaff and Sedona, with an added element of backcountry remoteness that gets a little harder to find in my part of the state.  I asked Matt to take me on two rides that would exhibit the opposite ends of the Prescott riding spectrum.  I brought Shrek down to see how 26" wheels and Flagstaff steep build would fair and met my riding buddies at the Granite Dells north of Prescott for a day of technical mayhem.  

Commonly the response of the people we encountered that day (hikers) was one of shock and disgust.  "You people ride your BIKES here?"  The dells offer the best in Arizona trials, straight out of the '90s. No doubt Hans Rey hisself has spent some time here.  Where Sedona gets off on big lines and picturesque landscapes to find itself pictured in nearly every magazine in print today, the Dells are just a little bit too far to the left to be mainstream.  What I mean is that even the most advanced riders at some point will be walking, or at least trying moves again, and always looking off line to see what else can be ridden.  The cool part is that as long as one is willing to try moves without getting discouraged, the area is actually quite friendly for group rides of multiple skill levels.  As slower riders make their way through challenges its never as though anyone is waiting with the surrounding playground.  At several of these points we stopped to make the bike switches.  What Matt was capable of aboard the 29er was instantly obvious to those of us watching him.  He had the confidence of a cat in native habitat instead of what more looked more like an uncoordinated ungulate taking its first steps.  The difference watching a truly seasoned rider was shocking.  We all saw it.  Aboard my bike I told him exactly what to expect, it is not as balanced and favors the downhill.  He jumped on for a move that transitions from a steep down into a steep up with a wheelie move in the transition.  He spit himself right off the back of my short stay 26er, just as I told him he would.

Our second day riding started with a familiar climb to the top of Mount Union in the Bradshaw range to descend the Yankee Doodle trail.  We and some others had done the first part of this trail on the last Intro to Bike Packing trip.  The first part would be dissuasive let us say.  Chunderry loose big rock rubble.  And while this fairly continues the whole way back down, the rubble does find its interruptions with fast sections of forest trail and near unnavigable rock drops.  This is the backcountry of the Prescott National Forest, usually only accessed by motos; it is in this steep terrain that my own bike shines.  Matt on his twelve year old full suspension Yeti, couldn't find the comfort zone of his bike in this rubble, and if it wasn't clear from the day before, it certainly was now.  He is riding beyond his bike's ability.  He didn't want to go faster down trails like Yankee Doodle, he just wanted to be able to make the moves with confidence.  Bearing these trails and rides in mind I went to work designing. 

Shorter stay 29ers are among the harder bikes to build in my opinion.  The large 2.4" rear tire eats up a lot of room so accommodations need to be made.  The actual stays (bottom bracket to rear axle) measured 429mm in the design leaving the horizontal measurement (what's left when bb drop is taken out of the equasion) at 425mm.  This was long enough to use my regular chain stays instead of a plate yoke and still have clearance for an XT double crank.  In selecting that double, however, a direct mount front derailleur was mated up for maximum tire clearance.  A curved seat tube was rolled out at my neighboring builder's (and sometimes my employer's) shop.  I turned down a piece of 1 3/8" sleeve tubing to reduce weight where the material isn't needed leaving the top to fit a standard size seat collar.  These pieces are fitted into the front triangle, thought figuring for and jigging an effective seat tube angle and an actual seat tube angle provide a bit of extra challenge.  Actual seat tube angle with the curved tube on this bike is around 69 degrees with the effective at the rider's saddle position being around 72 degrees.  The bike was fitted with a Thomson 27.2mm dropper post with under the saddle lever and the front end was designed around an Xfusion 100mm travel tapered steerer fork with 34mm stanctions for stability.  Interestingly I am finding that the benefits of larger stanction forks are much more noticable aboard hard tails than they are on full suspension bikes, as the rider tends to ride more "in the fork."  With the fork being the only suspension available a more forward standing position is assumed to push the front wheel through turns and obstacles (where prudent) when braking through these moves is less needed.  This in turn affects the design in terms of wheelbase and head tube angle.  The trick here is to figure out to what degree the intended rider will find any and all of this beneficial and balance all the elements of the frame's geometry.  In this case, Matt wanted a stable and predictable ride down the hairy stuff, not to go faster, so a shorter travel fork was selected to maintain the efficiency on the uphills and undulating technical trails.  

Above are the first specimens of the new custom drawn True Temper chain stay stock.  The stay on the right has the crush for tire clearance while the stay on the left just shows the raw bends laid out on the full scale overhead drawing.  These tubes will get and additional  bend clocked at 45 degrees at the rear to accommodate the disc brake on the chain stay shown in the photo below.  Dropouts are joined and brake tab attached to isolate the variables.  Then chain stays to BB is tacked.  Then seat stays bent up and mitered.

All is tacked in the jig, then removed for final brazing.  Then the real fun begins with hours and hours of polishing brass.  Finished bottom bracket assembly below.

Finished seat tube cluster

finished head tube assembly

Somewhere in the process comes the time to think about paint.  I have really had the best luck picking for people with guidance, as I know what comes out of the powder shop at this point and a good description often gets better results than looking at digital color swatches over the internet.  Matt had something specific in mind for this one, however, that warranted a trip up to Flagstaff to talk with my powder shop.  He wanted a flat green.  Extra polishing on my behalf.  Flat shows every flaw.  His description of the color was:  "There's this green plastic bin."

We got the bike built up in time for Matt to come up to Flagstaff for a test ride on our equivalent to the Dells, right before taking it out to the Sierra Nevada for a true test.  He was quickly out-riding me in my own back yard.  As for his extended field testing, well the words that follow are those of the rider:

  

Hello! So, headed back to Az, rode our last ride in Santa Cruz today. The bike has been awesome. Probably not by accident, it really came alive in my favorite ride of the trip, in South Lake Tahoe, which was quite possibly the best ride of my life. 5 hours of climbing on superbly laid out trail, fairly steep, periodic hard but rideable tech, insane views, huge trees, to a nice alpine pass. The descent was mostly through boulder strewn landscapes, but with a line through everything, some steep bouldery tech, back into the woods...
It was ideal for that bike. It turns really well, very light on its feet. And during the ride, I figured out the correct body position, which was back, of course, straighter legs and arms. In fact, especially when the seat was lowered, I found myself in positions I've never been in. So fun and fast and reactive, great on the steep steep. Its possible I e never felt more relaxed and tuned in at speed. Cool huh?
We rode three rides in Tahoe area, and they were all fantastic. The remaining two rides were south of SF and in Santa Cruz, and they were fun ripping in the forest, but nothing close to Tahoe.
So, I'm stoked. I can't wait to ride it in the dells, and the Bradshaws. It's best terrain is what it was designed for, go figure.

Thanks for the cool project, Matt.  Goats shred Trollville soon!

Summer Flashback Part 4: The Icing on the Cake

Funds were running low.  The pending return to the arid climates was still hours of driving away though, and at this point I hadn't been on my bike in at least three premier western states.  Unacceptable.  I headed inland, bound for the finest singletrack known to man.  Oakridge, Oregon, here I come.  I arrived later than I had hoped for a proper ride, but did have the light so was not hindered by daylight running out.  I decided to self shuttle the Middle Fork of the Willamette Trail and abandon my car.  My friend and local sponsor Eugene offered up his place to stay in town as well as a ride (and a lift) the next day.  Tough offer to decline.  With a ride back to town approaching 40 miles of mostly singletrack, I was more than a little dismayed to discover the wrong turn and 20 mile detour I had taken in getting to the start.  So it goes.  I'll have to forego that break by the river I guess.  Pedal on from now till dark.  

Now I've had a bit of a hard time motivating to ride by myself of late, and with the late start was doubting my effort this day even in my surroundings of the best trails in the world.  I keep thinking that there are more productive things to do with my time, forgetting that the ride is what brings me to that spot in my head where ideas are born and visions become clear.  When I hit the first turn in that soft hemlock needle cast that grips your tires harder than you ever thought possible, my doubts instantly vanished into a grin ear to ear and a single thought on repeat in the space between:  "ITS SO GOOD!  ITS SO GOOD!  ITS SO GOOD!"  Perhaps I had forgotten.

In its upper reaches the Middle Fork Trail crosses the cold but humble beginnings of one of the most major waterways in Oregon.  The trail is steep and tight with pinning corners that berm in sideways in the ongoing decomposition, defying gravity as knees approach ground level and brakes are completely forgotten.  Trunks of monster firs and cedars and hemlocks block the reflecting green light of the ferns and undergrowth in a shadow that only the rocks can trump.  I feel small.  My bike feels right at home.  It was these trails that prompted his creation almost three years ago.  Now Shrek rides his second return here, and all the fun still remains.

Proceeding downstream the trail mellows out into the valley that by the end of the ride will have me riding around the first of a series of reservoirs.  The undulations of the higher contours diminish into a more pedally flow, but the downward trend remains.  I pass through a burn scar and the light that now passes through where once blocked by canopy provides an opportunity for a swim, or rather a warm up afterward.  I strip down in anticipation of enjoying one of the great pleasures of the Cascades.  I get in up to my knees, but can go no further.  That Willamette is COLD.  I turn back, content with a bird bath in late August.  Another opportunity to chicken out was provided with a nice wreck of a log bridge across one of the tributaries.  A flood had pushed a tree trunk down and slammed this bridge, shaking its very foundation and cracking its spine, but leaving its body intact making for quite the off camber obstacle.  You could plainly see the line where all the locals ride across, but on this day alone I was convinced to pay my respects and hoof it.  

With the increasing flatness of the valley came surprising microclimates more reminiscent of Arizona than of Oregon.  I was surprised to see grass and a meadow with large Ponderosa Pines at this elevation west of the Cascade Divide.  It was a refreshing taste of home between the recurring thought bought on by the 10 foot trees and the sea of green below:  ITS SO GOOD! 

The hours passed and the light began to dwindle.  I was finally spit out on the road for my long pedal back to town.  I picked up my stash of warm clothes just as dusk had filled the valley.  A parade of fire apparatus passed by in procession as the road curved on by.  Pretty glad not to be in one of those vehicles and instead on board my mountain bike out in the air as the smoke set into the valley.  I made my way to Eugene's for a late dinner and a night of bike geekery.  

We were set to meet up with Luther, the crazy one-eyed Native Canadian, for a ride in the high Cascades, but delayed trying to fabricate parts onto a roof rack for Eugene's Civic.  We finally arrived back at the spot where I had left the space cruiser and began our ride.  Today we climbed.  And climbed.  It was blustery and overcast which made the climbing, well, somewhat more comfortable.  The climbing here is steep, and the granny gear is definitely still in fashion.  I was wishing I had one.  Hell, I was wishing for any sort of relief, but on a road trip whose initial destination was Single Speed USA, well, its what you got.  Though suffering, I managed to ride more that I had imagined of this relentless mountain range.  

We quickly climbed into a vast expanse of fir, both white fir and grand fir, and would remain in this forest for most of the day, though the level would span several thousand vertical feet.  Ground cover was more indicative of snowy climates as the trees two to three feet in diameter had an almost uniform hook to the base, growing sideways out of the slope before turning upward.  It was as if the ground that held their roots would try to tumble off the mountain, leaving the trees to hang on for dear life.  

We climbed.  And just as it seemed that we might get a break and go down just for a minute, we climbed some more.  We climbed past all the trees.  We climbed up and over the whole Willamette forest and into the next one, the Umpqua.  We went down for a minute and the we climbed back.  The clouds were breaking up, but the air was still cool.  Now it was time for the reward.  6000 feet of unprecedented anywhere else heroic, steep, carving, roosting, vein popping, drop your seat cascade descending.  Oh yeah, then a little more climbing of course!

You see there are no pictures of the downhill because there is no stopping to be had on the downhill.  Its just one controlled fist pump of a slide all the way back down to the headwaters.  You couldn't stop if you wanted to, and if you wanted to you'd be a fool.  Its not like you'd be fast enough with that camera to catch your buddy in a roosting corner anyway, so why bother trying.  Just get back to that thought playing on and on between your ears and think of nothing else because there is nothing else to think.

We got to the first spot in the descent where it had leveled off enough to regroup.  To the right was climb to a lake which we opted to take.  It was worth it for a breath, though we were again chasing daylight, now seven hours into our ride.  Who ever minded an extension of the downhill anyway?  Spandex monkey-drunkey single speeders in Michigan, that's who.  Our final downhill and downhill extension brought us back into the wet forests of the river valley and the uppermost sections of the Middle Fork Trail which I had passed by the day before on the hunch that this might happen.  The steepness through the hemlocks and their thick gravity-defying decomposition below brought new levels of speed and demanded quickness through the bobsled run.  It was alot to ask of a tired soul grinning ear to ear after 30 more of the sweetest miles ever dreamt.  But ask the trail did, and response was given from goat souls within, without hesitation from glazed eyes or frozen faces. 

Summer Flashback Part 3: The Left Side of the Map

Not the coast so much, but I did see it.  I don't often go to the beach, but swimming everyday means with certainty that you are on summer vacation.  The states on the leftern half of those united were the final leg of driving, which of course meant getting there.  The northland segment across Montana was the hottest of any in 6300 miles.  Why would anyone drive that sort of distance in this day and age?  Well in our race in Michigan was 500 miles from the nearest transportation hub of any means.  At least one segment was made in company.  The solo legs that followed were interrupted as best as possible with town stops, car slumber, and worthy rides where I could.  I had about four days to make it to Seattle before the festivities of the Wenger wedding.  That meant two lane roads and slow speeds to keep the mileage up.

I made a two day push to Helena on a whim and found a town full of good beer and mountain bikes locked all over the downtown.  My bartender that evening was friendly and pointed me in the direction of some good trails and free camping.  I found myself at a trailhead the next morning with loaded riders passing me by en masse.  Most were not Americans, four of five that I talked to were from other countries and were southbound on the Continental Divide trail.  How brilliant that folks from other countries ride our most stunning landscapes, while most transcontinental Americans opt for the hot summer plains and a headwind!  My ride was bound for the lower ridges outside of town, but in the distance lurked inviting backcountry adventure.  In my former days living in Montana, I had never really found the great riding of the north country.  There were plenty of adventurous dirt roads, but the singletracks favored hikers and were often overgrown and hard to follow.  Helena proved a bit different, with great trail access from town, and the promise of extended opportunities in the horizon of less rugged mountains.

The evening found my recovery in a hot spring along the Lochsa River, and quickly passing out in a valley smog after a rain had passed through.  This part of the world is spectacular with wild and its sad it has taken nearly a decade to return.  The alertness demanded of adventure in these parts is refreshing to the senses, though the chills to the spine are not so much.  

 

The wedding in Seattle was a blast from the past.  A quasi-reunion of fellow collegiate cyclists.  We were roadies.  None so much these days.  Mr. Wenger is an early supporter of my frame building efforts and less a cyclist these days than a cycler.  Our adventures have caused us each the gowth of much body hair, and the loss of that upon our scalps.  Chasing sunlight in freezing temperatures and snow aboard our steeds, long efforts, long efforts, followed by long efforts.  We aim for these festivities every few years, but have fallen off a bit of late.  I had never met Mrs. Wenger to be, but was promised an interpretation of a traditional Jewish wedding.  It did not disappoint.  My date flew in from Flagstaff, as did some very important Georgians with whom we stayed.  The spectacle drug on for three days, and in that time we managed to taste wine, and tell tales, swim in Lake Washington, and live the good life as one can only do on vacation.  Lets just say the theme here was "value oriented", as it was uttered a number of times.  That Chuppah is constructed out of the finest in harvested free range bamboo and duct tape.  Promotional flip-flops were offered by Hawaiian Tropic to assist ladies in high heels to the top of the grassy knoll for the ceremony, free of charge.  Table gifts from various sponsors were encouraged upon guests for the taking.  Someone even danced the worm in a dance off.  It went unanswered.  

Mazel tov!

I headed south for Oregon.  I was running low on funds, but had to eek out some rides.  There is nowhere more spectacular than the cascades, but the entice of some recently relocated friends brought the space cruiser and its contents first to the coast.  The hobo known best as Aqua fired up his grill and skills and put on a proper performance for an unannounced guest.  Hospitality is a prideful sentiment amongst the hobos.  And the perpetual rainy season of the coast Oregon is all the more reason to take in a guest from world's past.  From bums in yuppieville to yuppies in bumville, not much has changed but the zip code.  Thanks for the stay in Depoe Bay dear friends.

There was one last stop on the tour.  5000 miles and counting to this point.  I needed out of the car.  The driving had relentlessly mocked the time spent in the saddle.  The events of the two subsequent weekends demanded this, but my body and mind needed redemption.  I headed east to Oakridge.  It will get its own post. 

Summer Flashback Part Two: The Upper Peninsula

It was heard that people from Michigan travelled over 10 hours in state to get to the Upper Peninsula's northern most upward pointed thumb.  Makes 30 hours from Arizona not seem so bad, especially considering two rides in Colorado for training.  All race associated events will be mentioned only in text for lack of photographic evidence.  No one is sure this really happened.  The Single Speed race was laced with shenanigans from the start.  As expected really.  However those not expecting this behavior were the citizens of Copper Harbor.  The town is nearly all summer resort at this point and has no police, so when an officer in a ride reminiscent of Starsky & Hutch era enforcement showed up the people of the town were uneasy.  He did little to curb the drunken behavior and prolific lawn wrestling; he just walked around and made his presence.

The race brought out the costumes and flair associated with such a gathering, from both racers and spectators alike.  I had never formally raced a single speed race before, and couldn't imagine too well before hand how a pack of riders presumably with similar speed capabilities would pan out.  A long road separated the group and I found myself amidst the group I would be riding with.  This spot on Lake Superior is surprisingly rich in topography and the trails feature numerous wooden planks and intermixed rock gardens.  The riding was way better than expected.  We got to a downhill section known as Downtown and to my dismay I was forced to a stop aboard a wooden plank structure with no room to pass.  This is completely unacceptable.  When the dirt resumed I found myself more off the trail than on passing people in the foliage as it brushed by.  People walking, braking, and doing anything but handling their bike.  It was as thought the competition had flashed back to the '80s and were taking the Tom Ritchey approach to down hilling.  At one point near the bottom people were actually marching in a line like ants with their bikes on their shoulders.....DOWN A HILL!!  I looked to the right down a steeper line that cleared through what I would consider a moderate move and never thought twice.  Nine ants squashed....until the work of climbing the next hill is to be done.  Apart from a mostly fun course, some bacon and whiskey as per tradition, there's really not much else to say about the race.  My Flagstaff contingent shared sentiments about the Downtown section.  We all made the line to the right and were proud to be goats.  Most notably Judy who surely gave plenty of dudes a bad day and encouraged at least one teenage heartthrob from an on-looker.  Moustache Rides...others walk. Judy takes third on the ladies podium.  Second place was a dude!  Shame on all you who think of yourselves as mountain bikers and walked a downhill in Michigan.

We had really come to the race for the race....as in hosting rights, and were looking forward to the late day competition.  The afternoon brought a water race beer chug relay with a shootout....well until the canadians complained that they don't have guns and the coloradans were too lousy of a shot to warrant another round of BB gun range.  We goats faced off against North Carolina and defeated them easily...we do pride ourselves in the chug.  And onto the second round.  That night showed us an event unbeknownst to anyone in the audience save for Mr. Reno himself, bringer of the train tramp game of Bucket Wrestling.  Opponents faced off hands and knees locked sitting on adjacent buckets.  As I understood the first to lose seat on the bucket loses the match.  Maybe it was the first to the ground, but we'll never know.  A series of no shows set us in good position for winning.  Much chaos ensued.  Commotion.  People feeling left out.  Missouri even had two teams.  We defeated one of them and found ourselves in the final against a very drunken Wisconsin.  Well it turns out that goats are not the best of bucket wrestlers in the end, but the Shindaggers do put on a hell of a show, enough to draw out three Starsky & Hutch police cars.  

Turns out that the after party the following day was the real reason for coming to Michigan.  Great times with friends from a time past.  Bike rides.  Porch Sitting. Bike rides to lakes.  Bike rides on trails; real fun trails.  Porch Sitting.  Sponsorship Beers.  Fly Swatting.  Shootouts.  Bike rides to badminton and berries.  Swimming.  The weekend spent in Copper Harbor, Michigan can best be summed up with the pictures below.  All told, our host EP put on a hell of an event, but trumped himself with the afterparty.  Thanks Eric and Alicia!

Flashback: Summer Vacation 2014

In the chaos that is maximal fun interspersed with maximal work, I find myself looking through pictures taken not all that long ago and remembering what it was like not to be in a period of maximal work.  It was awesome I tell you.  I managed three or so weeks of a summer vacation this summer between odd jobs and various never ending bike projects, shop upgrades, machine acquisitions and general busyness.  In my three weeks off from the busy life I do believe I logged 6300 driving miles on the old space cruiser.  Tired she is, though far from actually being what she looks like: space junk.

The trip was first destined for the northernmost point in Michigan that isn't an island to do some riding.  Yeah, it was a work trip.  Our chosen route found us with the difficult decisions of where to stop along the way for team training with my fellow Flagstaff Goats.  Colorado was the obvious choice, but leaves for so many choices.  We departed with a loose plan that time and daylight would ultimately decide and being unable to turn up any last minute riding buddies in Durango, we opted for Phil's World outside of Cortez.  Maximal fun!

The sun set.  The night brought furious milage.  We stopped and slept.  I forgot a sleeping bag. 9000 feet.  The tarp will have to do.  In the morning we found ourselves at the top or Monarch Pass and headed east.  "Now THIS is Colorado!"  became the saying of the day after reading it on a road sign.  Where and how the emphasis is placed no one may ever really know.  Now the Monarch Crest is a shuttler's ride and forget ye not this fact.  There are also motorcycles, and hikers aggravated by your presence and everybody else's.  Now this IS Colorado!  Beyond this are the pictures that follow, an amazing ride, creeks to put your head in, rock screes to float over at speed, meadows, mountains, marmots.....maximalism, with beer and pizza at the end of the road.  NOW this is Colorado!

 

The plains of West Kansas, and Nebraska past in the dark hours until a camp was found by careful choice from the map.  The sleep was minimal and well earned.  The morning drear of the plains cast its shadow upon us with a check engine light before coffee.  This is not an option.  The modern world of those with smart phones left us able to interpret diagnose the code, and it passed as insignificant.  Roll on.  The evening found us in the company of one weary traveler's family, wealthy with accommodations, and joined now by those Shindaggers.  That's right, Flagstaff brought the band.  We would travel the rest of the way to Michigan as a space posse, complete with radio comm links.....

To be continued....

Receiving Department

I get to wear many hats and do many jobs in this venture.  Aside from being the fabricator, one of my favorite jobs around here is the receiving department.  I'm always stoked to get a package of stuff on the doorstep.  Here's a few of late:

Paragon Machine Works:  Nuff said.

L.H. Thomson:  a full stock of stem and seatpost offerings from my favorite aerospace rednecks.  I've been running the 27.2 dropper post for the past month with good result so far.  It is the only dropper post to live up the the testing standards of a bicycles seatpost.  Though having that nifty little switch to lock S-foils in attack position did distract me enough to crash out hard.  User error. 

And my latest:  A full stock of "unfinished custom golf shafts"...as stated on the packing slip.

The "Golf Shafts" are actually polished out custom drawn 7/8" True Temper straight gauge chromoly.  They really do put the "chrome" (chromium) in chromoly.  I expect this tubing to be a fair bit harder than what is available at retail from the aircraft suppliers.  This order comprised of two different gauges of 7/8" tubing totaling over 400'....its pretty much a minimum order.  Should be about enough for 60 bikes worth of both handlebars and chainstays.  Now onto re-tooling the forms....