Blast from the Past: A Former Rivendell Returns

I've been stating for some time now that I was going to share more about the newest addition to the bike fold. It's taken a bit longer than I thought to actually get to it, but here we are and I am able to finally deliver as promised.

My first Rivendell was the Sam Hillborne (that has remained in the fold since day one), but it was not the only Riv to come into our house. It was followed a couple of years later by Rivendell's A Homer Hilsen. I felt a little silly having both of these bikes, but they really did serve different purposes. When they were both in our home originally, the Hillborne was loaded up with racks and bags and was providing more of a city bike/grocery-fetching functionality, while the Hilsen was my road bike, stripped down to barest essentials. I went through a few rounds with set up switching between drop handlebars and more upright bars, but the Hilsen's functionality remained the same while it was with me.

Unfortunately, we ran into some unexpected expenses when Sam ended up in the emergency room, and we had some bills to cover associated with that visit. In order to help with paying some of those costs, I made the decision to sell the A Homer Hilsen. At the time, I thought I was okay with the choice, but soon after the loss started to set in. It wasn't that I minded selling a bike to cover the bills, but it kind of set me off on a strange course of trying to find the perfect (at least for me) long distance road-ish bike again.

Ultimately, I was able to find a great replacement for the Hilsen in the Box Dog Bikes Pelican. As you may recall, one of the reasons I didn't get an A Homer Hilsen when obtaining the Pelican was price. I just couldn't bring myself to pay today's prices and even though I'd been looking for years trying to find a second-hand Hilsen in the proper size, it just never materialized. I had accepted that it just wasn't meant to be in my life and went about using the Pelican as a much-enjoyed replacement.

Then, one day early this year, I received one of Rivendell's mass emails. While reading the email I ended up back at Riv's website on their special's page and discovered there an unpainted NOS Rivendell A Homer Hilsen/Saluki. My insides started to jump. Could it be? Sitting here in front of my eyes was the right-sized past bicycle I'd let go -- and for almost exactly the price I'd paid several years prior. It was as though someone was playing an April Fool's joke on me in January. A New Year's joke, perhaps?

A brief discussion was had, but I knew Sam was aware of how much I would love to have this particular bike back in my life, so there really wasn't much to talk about. I wasn't entirely sure at the time how it would fit into the current bikes, but I knew that I had to get the frame and I could worry about set up and function/purpose later.

The frame was listed as a Saluki frame, but it was my understanding that the Salukis and A Homer Hilsens were virtually the same, and for the size I need, I don't think there were any differences as far as geometry is concerned.

The best part was that I would be able to pick the paint color and I was told I could choose between A Homer Hilsen and Saluki decals for the frame (which just reaffirmed my belief that these were very, very similar). While I was excited about choosing a paint color, I also know that I have a horrible time picking paint for projects, but I also didn't want to waste the opportunity to be able to pick a color different from the standard either. Decisions, decisions.

I opted to go with the Saluki stickers, though I didn't really have a reason for the choice. Perhaps, at least in some small part, it's because I have a great love of dogs, but truly I would have been okay with either set of decals.

It took longer than expected for the frame to get painted. It was supposed to be a couple of weeks as was originally quoted, but ended up taking about four times longer than my overly-excited mind was ready to wait. Then, one day I received an email that stated, "Here is your frame..."

One of the photos received from Rivendell to let me know the frame was ready to ship.

Leaving the color technicalities to the folks at Rivendell had me wondering what would ultimately end up coming to me, but I was happy to see that it was pretty and bright - though not obnoxious - just as I'd hoped. I couldn't wait for the frame to get into my hands!

As I waited for the frame's arrival, I started debating what to do with the build. We had nearly every part needed to build up the bike, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to make it more road-focused or built ready to handle daily needs around town.

Since my hands have been struggling over the last few years, I decided to stick with the Albatross handlebars (as these work well for me), but thought that I'd turn them right-side-up to make it a little different set up than the current build of the Hillborne.

The Saluki was ridden this way for several weeks as I attempted to ascertain whether the set up would work for me or not. I was enjoying the set up, but it felt a little too upright. Even as someone who likes to sit up a bit, it was feeling a little too cruiser-bike-like for my preferences. I continued to ride though, hoping that I'd adjust to this set up. We even dropped the stem low, hoping that this would be enough to help me find the comfort I was seeking on the bike.

Eventually, I knew that I needed to change the handlebar set up, so we made a small switch, turning the bars upside down to match the set up of the Hillborne and added bar tape instead of the cork grips.

Even with the change to the handlebars, there still seemed to be need to keep tweaking things mildly, and I'm sure that will continue for a time until the right combination comes together. I do have other handlebar options as well, such as the butterfly/trekking bars like those on the VO Campeur, a set of Nitto drop bars, as well as a couple of other possibilities.

What has been interesting is to compare my memories of the A Homer Hilsen with the latest arrival. It can be easy to build something up from the past and give it qualities that it didn't necessarily possess, but I have found this bike to be all that I remember.

Since the set up is slightly different than the former version, I am finding a necessary adjustment period, but the bike itself rides as smoothly as I'd recalled. It is also a bit amusing that, just as with my first round with this bicycle, I am almost unsure of what to make of the appropriately sized top tube. Having grown used to being more stretched on the Hillborne, it is as though I expect a bike to have more reach. The remedy in the past was to use drop bars, which seemed to help cure the mild feelings of smallness, but I don't know if I'll go that route this time or not.

After riding the Saluki for a handful of months, I can say that I'm happy to have it back in my life, though I still don't quite know what its exact purpose is in the fold. Oh, I use it for errands and transportation, and I've taken it on a couple of rides just for the fun of it, but having filled the road bike slot with the Pelican, and having an appropriate option for getting groceries and other needs with the Campeur, and the somewhere-in-the-middle bike slot being filled by the Hillborne, it's almost as though I'm not quite sure where the Saluki fits in - and it's an odd sensation, as I expected it would immediately find a purpose.

In some sense, I suppose the bike can hold the position of fill-in for whichever option may be in need of repairs or maintenance at a given time. It's never a bad option to have a back-up, I think.

With all of my uncertainty surrounding a specific purpose for this bike though, it may seem strange that I was anxious to get the Saluki back. Certainly, I would have lived without having it, but there's a part of me that was hoping to recapture a bit of the past; a past that had me pedaling at my best. Although I realize it's not exactly possible to go back, there is a quality I've always appreciated about this bike that I can't quite put my finger on when pressed for specifics. It's an intangible, but it's there. While none of the photos seem to do it justice, I must say that the Saluki is a beautiful thing to behold, which doesn't hurt my feelings either.

Ultimately, it has been fun to re-welcome this blast from the past, and I hope to have many enjoyable rides as we move forward together. I don't know where the road will take us, but I look forward to figuring it out as we go.

Finding Love Again: A Renewal with the Rivendell Sam Hillborne

For anyone who's been in a long-term relationship, most of us recognize that there is an ebb and flow when it comes to feelings. Unlike the ideas that are often taught to us (especially females) in our youth, relationships take work and it can be highly unrealistic to go into a partnership with another person expecting it to be (only the good parts of) a fairy tale. Rainy days happen. It's just a fact of life. Sometimes it's easy to feel madly in love with the other person, and at others it can be more of a sense of tolerating each other. We hope that the sunny days far outnumber the stormy ones, but we can't really count them until we are on the other side looking in the rearview mirror. As crazy as it may seem, I can actual find quite a few similarities between human relationships and the one I have with the Hillborne.

Recently, I had someone stumble across an old post about my Rivendell A. Homer Hilsen being for sale. She was wondering if I'd sold it, which rolled into a brief conversation about whether or not I still preferred the Sam Hillborne over the Homer. My response to her was something along the lines that if I had it to do over again, I'd probably have kept the Homer and sold the Hillborne, simply because the top tube is shorter on the Homer and I always seem to struggle with reach - particularly when trying to get the handlebars at a lower position. The Homer could easily have been built up in exactly the same way as the Hillborne, but would've allowed a bit more flexibility with positioning. This is the curse of being made shorter-than-average, and is never more true than when trying to find a good fit on a bicycle.

At the time of the sale, the only thing I could view the Homer fulfilling in the bike fold was my heavier road bike and because I had a road bike that was meeting my needs, the logical-to-me response for that moment was to sell off the Homer and keep the Hillborne. Had I thought it through, I could've built the Homer frame up in exactly the same way and had a shorter reach. But, alas, that idea didn't occur until many months after the sale.

I giggle a bit now looking at this photo and realizing that the brakes/hoods were in the wrong place completely... of course, I am sure I did this because I couldn't reach them if they were where they should've been.

The reminder of this situation put me into some deep thought about the Hillborne and I couldn't help but wonder if I really would have given it up in place of the Homer if I had it to do over again. I've had my Hillborne for over 4 years and it's been the only bike I've owned for any length of time. Most seem to come and go as I find (usually due to fit) reasons to send bikes on their way to a new owner. The funny thing is that even though the Homer had a more appropriate fit, I've grown used to the feel and fit of the Hillborne. Yes, it's larger, but it's almost as though my body has somehow adapted to it in some sense. While I still find that I struggle on longer distance rides on this bike (mainly due to the reach), and I question whether I, personally, could ever truly use it for even light touring because of the sizing, I find myself struggling with the thought of giving this bicycle up.

The idea of selling the Hillborne was brought up a second time in the not-too-distant past as I pondered the idea of selling it off to help fund other efforts. My initial response to the idea was to seriously consider it. I asked myself if it was a necessary bicycle in the fold and I came to the conclusion that I would be willing to give it up. During this time of reflection, I quickly found myself hesitating with the sale. I use this bike a lot and I've made some mistakes in the past selling a bike that I enjoyed, so instead, I decided it was time to play with the set up and see if I truly was ready to let it go. I wanted to ride it on some longer distances again. If I was able to do that and still wanted to give it up, I would let it go, but if I was unsure or hesitating, I would keep the Hillborne.

My biggest frustration with the Hillborne over the years has been my inability to use it with the handlebars in a lower position. No matter how short the handlebar stem, when I put it into a lower position, the reach is simply too far for me. Presently, I have the Hillborne set up in a lighter manner (meaning most of the extras -such as fenders, racks, huge bags, etc have been removed) so that I can use it for training on the roads. I find that there is a maximum lowering point for the handlebars though, after which I start having elbow pain, neck strain, and at times back pain. This was never an issue with the A. Homer Hilsen; however, I also recall feeling as though the Homer was almost too small (my feelings changed a bit as I got used to the Homer, but I do recall thinking that maybe it wouldn't work because of its smaller top tube at one point).

Wanting to attempt to find a comfortable position for my tests on the Hillborne, I located the point at which I could lower my body a bit for road rides without straining myself too much... and then, I rode. I rode so much that even after I received my much anticipated custom road bike, I continued to ride the Hillborne more frequently than the new bike. There were days when I simply wanted the feel of the Hillborne, and other times that I was really just trying to put mileage on it to test out its value in the bike fold. I started to find that I really wasn't much slower than on the road bike, so if I wasn't going for some sort of speed ride, why not take the Hillborne?

As I rode, it was hard not to think about all the transformation this bike has gone through. I expected a lot of it when it first came into my life, and in some sense, I recall being disappointed. Riding with drop bars was an impossibility, even though I attempted it several times. Saddles were changed almost too many times to count. Stems were exchanged as I attempted to fix reach issues. I couldn't decide what this bike was supposed to be for me and how it was supposed to fit in, but through it all, I kept riding, discovering the things that I loved and the things that I might change if it had been made specifically for me.

A couple of years ago, I gave up trying to use the Hillborne as a road bike. I decided to relegate it to more of a city-bike that could travel some dirt trails if needed. I loaded him up with racks, fenders, bags, and so on, creating a machine that often felt slower than it should have... but it worked. It allowed me to pull a trailer, to fetch groceries, to carry things that I might not on a road bike. Suddenly one day though, it just didn't seem an appropriate use for this bike any longer.

The idea of this heavy, slower bicycle was no longer appealing, but I realized I had done all of this to the bike. Lightening the load and switching its usefulness was just the rejuvenation I needed. It seemed in many ways like a new bike, but still had that familiar feel. The bumps don't hurt like they do on a lightweight bike. The wide tires are perfect to take it on dirt or gravel rides when the need or want arises. The magic has somehow returned in our relationship.

All at once, it was as though I had an epiphany. Throughout our time together, the things that I believed were the downfall of this bike, are actually the things that have kept it around. The fact that it can so easily transform from a road bike to a trail bike to a grocery-getter, that I can set it up in so many different ways, that I have this inexplicable desire to stare at it when I see it locked up against a bike rack, the reality that I honestly can't imagine my life without it... for these reasons and more, I know that this bike was meant to be with me. It has seen me through fatter days and slightly less-fat days, but it has always been exactly what I needed, sometimes without me even being aware of that reality.

Whether our relationship works because of the designer or because of its flexibility (or both), I will leave that up to someone else to determine. I think little has to do with the brand itself and more with the reality that I, for whatever reason, have always had the patience with this particular bicycle to work through our issues, and that hasn't always been the case with other bicycles. There was an immediate level of comfort - on an emotional level - with this bike, and I suppose that helped spur on the adaptations to help it not only stick around, but get so many miles of use.

Although I do still enjoy having a lighter weight road bike to use, and I can't say that I won't have something faster for road rides or a bike that's slower or heavier for tooling around town, there is something special about the connection I have with the Hillborne. Like a human relationship, we've shared good times and bad, we've had our fights and make-ups (okay, maybe I was the only one actually fighting), and we've each grown and/or changed over the years together. I know that I really love this bike though and am grateful to have a bicycle that I can always count on. It's taken time to understand what our relationship is and how it works best, but it was well worth the effort to arrive at this point.

Mind Over Matter

The last several weeks have had me far more stressed out about my upcoming 100-mile ride than I should be. I wish I could be calm and collected and just "know" that I can do it, but the more riding I do, the less capable I feel, which can be quite disconcerting to someone who just keeps telling people she is going to do this ride - and before the end of summer. I want to feel confident, but the more 30-40 mile rides I complete, I realize just how far 100 miles is going to be, and searching out flatter routes in this area is challenging and adding to my fears.

This week, I made a promise to myself that I would break through the 40-mile barrier just to prove that I am capable of increasing my mileage, even if it is in small chunks. What spurred this action? I suppose it was a number of things. But one of the big ones was finding out that a friend of ours had passed away. He was just starting a new job after several years of unemployment, and was on a plane coming home when he had an aneurysm. It was sudden, unexpected, and as his wife has shared, no one could have predicted or stopped it. He was nowhere near an age that he should be gone, or even thinking about leaving his wife and daughter behind.

The death of someone close is always thought-provoking for me. I wasn't particularly close to this friend, but Sam basically grew into adulthood with him - meeting in the army and forging a friendship that would last... well... through his lifetime. They had their times of being close and distant, but they always remained in contact. The passing of someone known reiterates to me that I can never take life for granted. We don't know when our last moment may be on this earth, and our time here is very precious and fleeting.

What does the passing of a friend have to do with riding? Not much, but I can say that riding is always a good time for me to ponder all that is going on in my own life. It allows me the freedom to work through things that otherwise might take up time with those I love. The reality is, the "road" of life is unpredictable, and sometimes riding the physical roads is great therapy.

The day I decided to attempt my "longer" training ride it was hot. Much more than I would prefer (though it is typical for this time of year). I packed up water and a snack, headed out to see where the road would take me, and how far I could get in the time I had to spare. I knew it wouldn't be a fast ride, but I wasn't concerned about any of that: miles were all that mattered. Most of the ride was lonely, and I had a lot of time to think. Sometimes that's a good thing, but on this particular day I would have preferred some company. It didn't take long before I started questioning the "why" of the century ride. Who am I trying to impress and what am I trying to prove? Is there a reason for any of this? What does 100 miles prove exactly? Doesn't regular riding seem more important than some arbitrary number?

I was comfortable on the bike, but it was a very slow ride. Every mile seemed to take an eternity, and I had little climbing to accomplish so I couldn't even claim fatigue from the stress of hills. I started to question my body and its capabilities. I began to wonder if I shouldn't just head home and live to ride another day. I just wanted to cross the 40-mile marker and couldn't seem to get there. "This fat body just won't let me do it!" I started telling myself. "Why would I think I am capable of anything more?" The tears started falling when I realized that I was allowing myself to fail; that I was offering excuses in an attempt to permit myself to give up. At 34 miles, I was done. Mentally and physically, I'd had all I could handle. The glaring sun and heat had beat me down, my water was gone, and although I wasn't actually hungry, my body was telling me that it wanted food... real food. My brain was telling me to stop and try again another day, so I headed home.

Yes, I gave in to all of the garbage I was feeding myself, but some little flicker of hope (or maybe insanity) sparkled deep down, and as I rode the few miles home I told myself that I would get a little bit of food, refill my water, and head back out... and I did.

As I got back on the bike, my body was displeased. Again, I was perfectly comfortable, but I was tired and the mid-90-degree temperatures (even with the rare cloud cover) were not helping. I was riding slower than I had been even before I stopped to refill, but I was determined to get beyond the threshold of that 40-mile mark. Why was every pedal stroke such an effort? I simply couldn't understand why my body was so fatigued after such a relatively short distance. Then, just as I was feeling hopeless, I looked down and saw this:

I had surpassed the 40-mile mark... finally!  Ultimately, I ended up riding just over 53 miles - far exceeding what I thought I could, or would do that day.

The mind is a powerful thing. I am convinced that I can talk myself into or out of almost anything. Sometimes the mind is willing and the body refuses to cooperate; other times the flesh is ready, but the head is weak. Finding the times when the two necessary parts overlap into a state of cooperation seems to be challenging, particularly when riding distances alone. But, knowing the way I felt on this ride, and seeing that I was capable of going beyond what I'd hoped to do that day despite the obstacles, helps me understand that I really can accomplish this ride. It may not be fast, and all of the stars may not align to have a perfect day, but it is doable... and I will finish what I have started.

Why will I ride 100 miles? I will do it because I want to prove to myself that I can...Not because someone is making me, or because I think it will impress anyone (far better people have done far more, certainly). I will do it because I don't know when my last day could be on this earth. I will do it to prove to every person who ever said, "You can't (or shouldn't) do that," that they were wrong. I will do it because I am strong, and capable, and willing to put in the time and effort to accomplish this goal. In the end, that's all the reason I need.

Catching Up on Life and Bicycles

I feel as though I've gone a bit quiet here in the blogosphere. It isn't really intentional, but life has been full and busy and... well, unfortunately that means I tend to slack off on anything that requires me to sit and focus (e.g., the blog). There are things to share and they will come in time but I thought a quick post was in order for some quick updates.

On the personal/job front...
Sam has officially been offered a position locally, so it looks like we are staying here in Colorado for the time being. I think we were both a little anxious about leaving the area, but were willing to do so if needed for our survival. He is very excited about the position, the potential with the company, and as an added bonus, it's less than 10 miles from home, so he can bike a lot more frequently to work (always a nice discovery in our book).

As for Sam's health, he is doing much better after his emergency room visit. Thank you to all for your well-wishes, good thoughts and prayers. He was pretty quickly back to pedaling, running, kickboxing, etc, so I am grateful for his swift recovery.

My mock up (2-sides, anyway) of a potential switch gear box painting

A few weeks ago, I submitted a model of what I would paint on one of the several switch gear boxes around town through our local Art in Public Places program. My maquette, as well as the many others, went on display and up for public vote at the local museum, and I was informed today that I was one of the five that have been selected to paint this year. I am excited (and nervous, as it's a decent sized project), but grateful to all those who took the time to go and vote. I will do my best to take some in-progress photos as I begin working later this summer, and am looking forward to a new adventure.

On the bike front...
As some of you read here, I had put my Rivendell A. Homer Hilsen up for sale locally in an attempt to cover the out of pocket costs involved with Sam's ER visit mentioned above. Fortunately, we were able to figure out a way to get these costs covered without selling the bike, so I'm happy to report that I'm still riding him and glad to have him in the bicycle fold. I appreciate everyone who helped spread the word that the bike was for sale. I thought it would go quickly, but the universe has a way of working things out in the end, so I suppose he was meant to stay right here.

Old version of my Surly Pacer

In an odd twist, my Surly Pacer made a return to our household recently, but the only thing that remains the same is the frame and, hmm, well, that may be about it. I will attempt a post about that bike in the near future and all its fun changes (as well as more on how it ended up back here), but it was interesting to have a bike come back into the house that I assumed I would never see again. I recall that I didn't feel horribly fast on the bike before, and that has definitely changed with the modifications.

Somewhat recently, I wrote about my dilemma with a the Trek Lexa SLX. The Lexa remains in my possession for the time, thanks in part to Sam's diligence and the extension of the 30-day trial period from the bike shop. They assured me they wanted me to be comfortable and happy with the decision, and that they didn't want me to keep something I couldn't use, so I'm thrilled to report that after a much-fought decision on my part to go in for a bike fitting, the ride seems to be a lot easier on my hands (I really hate it when Sam is right). I am hoping that it remains comfortable and will be something I can keep and use regularly.

Today is bike to work day, so hopefully everyone enjoyed a peaceful ride in on his/her bicycle. Although I work from home, I did get in a lovely ride this morning and was happy to see so many out and about on two-wheels enjoying the day. It's a hot one locally, so remember to take it easy and bring extra water for the ride home. Happy riding, as always! :O)

Rivendell A. Homer Hilsen for Sale (and a tale about how this has come about)

The below post is several years old and that bike is sold. However, I have another 47cm A Homer Hilsen/Saluki frame for sale as of Aug 2017. You can find photos and info by clicking here.
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I started writing a post about the last couple of days, but I realize some may have no interest in the back story and just want to see the bike for sale. If that is the case, you are welcome to scroll toward the middle of the post where I've headed up the section with "Rivendell A. Homer Hilsen for Sale," or you can view additional photos of the bike here. For all others, feel free to start (or continue on) from this point. Thanks! :O)
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We had an eventful 24-hour period here in the E.V.L. household starting Monday evening. After Sam got home from work in the late afternoon, we were chatting (about bikes, of course), plotting out some final attempts with the Trek, and preparing for kickboxing, when he suddenly started having stomach pain. I thought little of it and went about my business, but after a few minutes, Sam was on the floor telling me that he could barely breathe and was in pain like he had never experienced.

"Do I need to call for an ambulance?" I asked, in a half joking tone. I truly thought he was okay and was just dramatizing a bit of gas or temporary stomach pain. Within a few minutes, I knew he wasn't kidding and we headed for the emergency room. As we traveled, Sam started saying things like, "If I die..." Not exactly what one wants to hear from his/her spouse in this sort of moment. I reassured him that he wasn't going to die (honestly, only half believing it myself because I had no idea what was going on). After arriving in the ER, it took about 2 hours to actually get a doctor and some pain medication flowing, but soon Sam was at least able to stay put without writhing in pain.

Sam waits for pain meds -
I had plenty of time for photos as the ER doesn't seem to be particularly speedy

After getting results of the blood work, the ER doctor noticed that there were elevated levels in Sam's pancreas. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on after quizzing Sam about what he'd ate, drank and done over the last few days, so he sent him in for an ultrasound. By this time, Sam was fading in and out due to the medication he'd received, but he was still aware of everything going on, attempting bad jokes with all the staff, and trying to understand himself what was going on.

The short story is that there is no definite answer to what happened. The doctors believe Sam was experiencing pancreatitis, and have no idea what triggered it or why it happened. He doesn't drink or smoke, he doesn't take any herbs or naturopathic supplements, and after the ultrasound, there were no stones anywhere to be found. They kept Sam overnight because they didn't know what had happened, nor why, and wanted to be sure that it wouldn't start up again before sending him home. They also wanted to check his triglycerides and so on, but had to wait until morning to do so. The doctor stated he could be there from 24-72 hours, depending on what happened. Thankfully, it was a pretty short stay. Sam is to eat bland foods for a week and avoid alcohol for at least two weeks. Additionally, a check up with his primary care doctor is on the books for next week. The good news is, it was a fairly quick visit to the hospital/ER and Sam is much better today. The bad news is, apparently after one gets pancreatitis, s/he is much more likely to get it again.

As I've stated before, I believe everything happens for a reason and it is all part of a bigger picture. What made me chuckle just a bit about all of this is that if Sam had actually started the job he was offered in San Francisco, rather than it being rescinded, we would have had no insurance (it wouldn't have gone into effect until July 1), and we could possibly have been paying for this visit for many years. Thankfully, we have medical insurance... but this is where the "bike for sale" part comes in to play.

Because we rarely (or in Sam's case, never) go to the doctor, we have to cover the costs of the deductible before anything will be covered by the insurance. Unfortunately for us, the deductible is a fairly sizable one which means we need to figure out how to cover this expense. Since bike shuffling has been taking place anyway, I've decided to sell off my very much loved Rivendell A. Homer Hilsen to help cover the costs of this emergency hospital visit. So, if you know of anyone who has been thinking about it, this could be the time to save a little dough and help us out of a financial pickle.

Rivendell A. Homer Hilsen for Sale
About the bike: This is a great bike for just about anything other than racing. It gets around easily and comfortably and is a solid machine built for the long haul. It would make a great commuter, light touring bike, city bike, and/or all-around fabulous bike. If you don't know much about it, info can be found here. *Please note that the frame being sold is in fact a darker color blue than what is shown in the photos through the link as it was manufactured in a different color when purchased. As you may have noticed while there, the frame/fork alone are selling new for $2300 (and complete bike builds are into the mid-$3k and up).  When I looked it over to take photos, I couldn't find any paint chips, etc. It is a used frame, so be aware that small imperfections may be visible if you were to go over it very carefully, but I noticed nothing of significance at all when looking over the bike (though there is some dirt, as it has been ridden). The bike has been well-cared for and never stored outside, as I intended to keep this bike for life. I have owned it less than a year now, and it has been a secondary bike so it has few miles on it.

Sugino triple crank (24, 36, 46)

What's included: The bike is being sold with frame/fork, headset, bottom bracket, handlebars, handlebar stem, wheels, tires (and tubes that are in them), derailleurs, rear cassette, brakes (and brake levers), shifters, seatpost, chain, crank, bottle cages, and cables. I can include a generic saddle (not the one pictured), if the buyer would like to have something to get him/her going.

What's NOT included: Saddle, pedals, any bags or electronic devices that may be pictured in other photos, and handlebar tape (only applicable if the bike is shipped as it's just been removed too many times to keep it in decent shape).

Soma New Xpress 650b tires

A bit more detailed info:
Frame: 47 cm (steel)
Top tube: 52 cm
Stand over: 73.5 cm
Crank: 170 Sugino XD2 triple (24, 36, 46 rings)
Rear cassette: 11-32
Tires: Soma New Xpress 38x650b (300 miles on them, at most)
Bottle cage spots: 3 (seat tube, down tube, and under side of down tube)
Wheels: 650b size (generic brand - see photos if you're looking for additional info or send me a note and I can attempt to get more information)
Handlebars: Nitto randonneur bars
Shifters: Shimano bar end, 3x8 (left is friction, right indexed)
Asking: $2,100 or best reasonable offer

I'm sure there are additional details that someone may want or be in need of, and if that is the case, please feel free to contact me at endlessvelolove {at} gmail {dot} com. I would very much like to sell this to someone in the area (Boulder/Denver) as I'd prefer not to deal with shipping the bicycle. However, if it ends up being sold to someone out of a reasonable meeting distance, please be aware that I will need to charge for shipping and professional packing. I've had too many issues in the past with problems in shipment and have decided it is the only way I will ship a bike. Charges will be actual (so I would need to get a quote for the individual) as I'm not looking to scam anyone out of money, but I also want the bicycle to make it in one piece without damage and it seems to work better through a bike shop. The buyer is probably looking at somewhere in the range of $200-250 (as a guess) for packing/shipping in the continental U.S. Any other questions, please feel free to drop me a note.

UPDATE: July 2013 - The Rivendell is sold. Thanks to all!! :)

Roadside Un-fixable

I'm starting my bike training early this season. In the past, I've waited far too long to get going on some longer, more challenging (this is code for riding hills) rides, and I have plans in the works for this summer, so I don't want to be out of bike-shape and not be able to do what I would like.

*Image found here

The first "real" ride I went on resulted in a broken/seized rear hub. It was one of those rides that just started off horribly. I felt tired, run down, and as though my legs weren't doing what I needed them to do. I decided to take a trail to the back roads rather than navigating through the car traffic, but spots that are typically quite easy (even over the winter) were brutal. I kept asking myself what was wrong with me, but just assumed it was lack of sleep and/or lack of bike training over the prior months. When I finally reached the back roads, things were going from bad to worse. I would try to crank harder on the pedals and it felt as though the bike was fighting against me. I assumed it was because I was traveling on a slight uphill and carried on.

Finally, I'd had enough and decided to turn around. I got about a mile out from the turn around spot and my bike literally began to stop. I could hear what sounded like my saddle bag dragging on a tire, but when I felt behind me, there was plenty of room between the two. What gives? I decided to just pull off the road and take a look. As I dismounted, my bike wouldn't move - literally. I went to spin the back wheel and it wouldn't budge at all. I had a brief moment of panic, but called Sam to ask if there was something I should check... of course, he didn't answer. So, I started looking at the brakes to make sure they weren't rubbing (they weren't), the saddle bag was well above the tire (and wouldn't make it so the wheel wouldn't move at all anyway), and I couldn't see anything that would be blocking the wheel from moving.

A few minutes later, Sam returned my call and went through pretty much everything I had already checked. "I think I'm stuck out here," I finally said, "because I just can't get it to budge and I can't leave the bike here." A friend ended up coming to get me and after some finessing to attempt to cram the bike into her car, I made it home safely.

My plea for assistance was quickly answered. :O)

Later, Sam determined that the inside of the rear hub had actually bent. Apparently the skewer had come loose and was tightening itself from the opposite side. Eventually, it simply broke the hub causing the lack of movement while I was pedaling. In many ways, I felt better about the initial ride out... after all, at least it wasn't that I was so out of shape I couldn't pedal anymore (or at least that's what I'm going to tell myself). I, however, was not thrilled about a broken hub that I've only ridden on for about 400 miles (or so). I suppose these things happen though, and the replacement part is en-route, so there isn't too much to worry about (I hope) for future rides.

The lesson I learned from this is that I can't always be prepared for anything that might happen on the roads. A flat tire I can deal with, but not a broken hub. Have you had an experience out on the road that was more than you could handle with the limited tools in your bike bag? What would you do if you were in a situation that wasn't repairable on the side of the road?

Carbon vs Steel Bikes: Test Ride of a Self-Professed Steel Lover

Through my adult bicycling years, I've often spoke about how much I love steel bikes. I love the feel, the ride, the comfort. However, every now and again I find myself eyeing a carbon bike, and can't help but wonder if it would be something that ultimately I would want to purchase. When I find myself riding more (and struggling up lengthy hills with those on carbon bikes whizzing past me), I find myself daydreaming about a lighter weight frame.  Over the last couple of months, I have found myself inching closer to the carbon bikes in shops to eye them closer. Recently, while wandering through a shop, I announced, "One day, I'm going to test ride one... just to see and feel for myself any differences." On one of our stops into a shop, Sam reminded me that we know someone who owns a carbon road bike who might also be so kind to let me borrow hers for a day or two to test it out. Ah, my brilliant Sam!

My somewhat timid (but hopeful) request was sent via e-mail to my friend, Joey. I'm always a bit hesitant to ask to borrow someone's bike because I know what mine mean to me, and how uncomfortable it can be when people start touching them, let alone wanting to ride them or take them home for a few days. She was more than gracious though, and said I was welcome to take her Specialized Ruby home for the weekend to test it out.  I was ecstatic. Finally, an opportunity for a test ride that extends longer than a few minutes around the block.

Specialized Ruby Elite

The first small road block is that Joey is a couple of inches taller than me, and has longer legs. I knew riding her frame would probably be a bit of a stretch, but I believed I could do my best to block out any sizing differences and just try to feel the actual variances in the frame itself.  In actuality, because my Hillborne has such a long top tube for its stand over, the stretch wasn't nearly what I anticipated. I promised not to disturb her set up other than lowering the seat post to allow proper pedaling, and I set out to do a few test rides to see what all the fuss is about carbon.

The first ride was just a quick couple of loops around the block. I wanted to be sure I could ride the bike without toppling over, and test out all the shifting, braking and so on. The "testing" went well, and it was time to take the Specialized out for a ride.

The initial "real" ride consisted of a comparison test. I wanted to physically feel the differences back to back between my A. Homer Hilsen (the steel road bike) and this carbon Specialized. I mentally mapped out a quick route that included hills and flats and took the Homer out on the road. After completing the ride, I immediately switched out and pedaled the same route on the Specialized. I intentionally rode the Specialized in second place to not give any favoritism to this bike. I didn't want a higher level of energy on the first ride to possibly increase the favorability of this bike. I realize that riding it after the steel bike could well have put it at a disadvantage, but this seemed to make the most sense for someone who is considering the pros/cons of something I don't currently own. I also threw in a third bicycle to the test: Sam's Bianchi Brava. He suggested that feeling the difference between my mid-20 lb steel bike, the carbon bike, and a lighter weight steel option might be an interesting juxtaposition as well. I agreed. So, after the Specialized was taken out on the road, the Bianchi followed in the third spot.

Several notes and observations were made while riding these bicycles back to back, but I definitely believed that the Specialized needed its own ride to truly test it out.  Keeping in mind that it wasn't set up for me, I didn't want to go too long a distance, but also wanted to give it more than a couple of miles to get a better feel for the material.

I should point out that my intention with these rides was never to specifically note the qualities or positioning of the Specialized Ruby, but rather to feel the differences of steel versus carbon, and I think this was a successful experiment. After each of the rides were completed, I was able to make several observations.

The rides taken allowed me to experience that there is definitely a difference in the feel of these bikes. While on flat land, each bike is capable (even under my unskilled pedal power) to get up to approximately the same speed; however, with the carbon bike there is an immediate sensation of "going fast." The effort being put into the pedals gets the bike up to speed much quicker as none of the energy is lost in the flex of the frame material (as seems to be the case on a steel bike). A similar reality became evident while climbing.  The effort to pedal uphill resulted in a slightly quicker speed (approximate 1.5-2 miles per hour), and beyond velocity itself it was as though the energy expended produced immediate results, rather than losing some of the effort in the climb.  It helped me understand in a more physical manner how and why the carbon roadies are able to speed past me, particularly when traveling up hills.

An old shot of the Bianchi Brava - it's seen several upgrades (including the wheels) since the time of this photo

One aspect I found rather interesting was feeling the physical differences among the carbon bike, my steel road bike, and Sam's Bianchi. I will note that there is little on his Brava that is from the original bike as he has upgraded 95% of this bike to make it a sub-20 lb steel road bike (I believe it currently comes in at about 18 lbs). I was amazed at how light his Bianchi feels even by comparison to my own steel ride. His lighter weight bike was seeing approximately the same speed increases on mild hills (about 1.5-2 mph) as the carbon bike.  So, is the speed difference based on the weight of the bike, or the material of the frame? Is it the sum of the parts, or is it the rider?  Did I simply expect that one would be quicker than the other and already have some kind of pre-conceived idea of the outcome?  I don't think there is any denying that the effort put into a carbon frame is more immediately evident, but I can also see that the weight of a bike must be playing a role in the overall speed as well.

All of this, in many ways, brought more questions than it resolved, but it also provided some personal answers I had been seeking. Even with my somewhat limited time riding the carbon, I can see that there is a time and a place for it, and I "get" why people choose this as an option for a road bike. Clearly, it has its benefits. However, even with that said, this experiment allowed me to re-affirm that my personal preference is still steel. I am a bit unsure if my fondness for this material has to do with what I am currently used to, or if there truly is better comfort for me on steel, but I found that I simply prefer the ride quality on the steel bikes. There are other reasons to love steel over carbon - such as recycling qualities and length of life - but, my preference has more to do with comfort over long distances than anything else.

I am not a racer, and even should I decide in the future that I'd like to achieve quicker speeds (which I can see happening), I think I would opt for a lighter weight steel choice... it is the material I personally like.  Could this change? Of course. Anything is possible, and I'm not willing to say that I would never own a carbon frame because I've already experienced changes in my style of riding over the last few years. However, if at this moment someone gave me the option to choose between the two, I would opt for steel. While I don't think this takes anything away from a carbon frame, and I better understand why there are folks who make this their material of choice, I have learned that I'm happy with what works for me. As has been said before, it doesn't matter what your preference... just get out there and ride.

*A very special thank you to Joey for allowing me to use her beloved Ruby. I appreciated having the opportunity to experience first hand why you love your bike so much! :O)

Post Script: We had another chat a couple years later that can be found here during which people chimed in about their thoughts on ride quality on various bicycle materials. 

Re-Learning What I Thought I Knew: I CAN Ride Drop Bars!

In the summer of 2009, my darling Sam picked up a road bike for me from a Craigslist ad. At the time, I had been riding upright/city style bikes and enjoying my slow pace around town. When I started daydreaming about long rides for exercise, touring, and so on, Sam decided to take matters into his own hands and found me a mid-70s Raleigh Super Course to try out, rather than spending hundreds or even thousands on something that, potentially, I may not have ever touched. When he brought it home my initial reaction was split: I was thrilled at the opportunity to ride a road bike (I hadn't been on one since childhood), but I was terrified of the position on the bike and the handlebars. Surprisingly, things went pretty well... except, that is, for the drop bars.

The bike was large for me, so we chucked it up to sizing issues and moved on down the road to the next choice. Even though the bike that followed was sized properly for me, I just couldn't seem to make any kind of drop bar work. I tried a variety of them, but every time I would be in so much pain, that I'd end up not riding for a week or more. I had tried classic style (code: old) drop bars, noodle bars, randonneur bars, but nothing seemed to help me find a position that worked. Ultimately, I gave up on the idea and just started looking for an alternative. The one that worked best for me was the albatross handlebar, and so, for the last couple of years, that has been my go-to choice for any bicycle - even road bikes. I've done just fine with them and travelled well enough that I came to the realization that every bike I'd ever own would have these bars. I even have a "spare" set -"just in case." Sick, I know.

The "usual" bicycle for long or organized rides

Still, I couldn't help but have some drop bar envy when I'd see folks pedaling by. In reality, there are simply more hand positions on this type of handlebar, and knowing that I do have hand/wrist issues to contend with, I stubbornly kept trying to make some kind of drop bar work for me. After each attempt and subsequent failure, I would return the set up to the albatross bar and let out a huge sigh. "I guess this is just what I'm destined to ride," I'd constantly try to reassure myself. I had switched out the handlebars on the newer Homer bicycle at least half a dozen times, convinced that I could make the drop bars happen. With my last attempt I told Sam, "Let's just put them on and leave them for an extended period of time and see what happens. I'll start riding them on short trips and just see if it's all in my head, or if there's some possible way to make these work." And so, we did. We set up the Homer with the randonneur bars, and I figured I'd slowly allow myself to try them out without the pressure of having to do a long distance ride.

Ah, but fate had other plans. The evening before my recent Venus de Miles ride, we had an incident with the Hillborne which left me without a saddle/seatpost. As we desperately tried to figure out how to resolve the problem so late on the eve prior to the ride, Sam and I looked at each other already knowing what this meant: I'd be riding the dreaded drop bars on an unfamiliar bike for the 51 mile ride the following morning.

"I'm a big girl," I said, trying to reassure the slightly-flustered Sam that I would manage this on a bike I wasn't completely used to riding. "It will all be okay, I promise." After having joked just days prior that this would happen, I honestly didn't expect it to actually be coming about (talk about speaking things into existence). Frankly, I was terrified that I would get 10-15 miles in to the ride and not be able to finish because of hand pain, but I wasn't about to worry Sam with such thoughts. We took a few minutes and did our best to get the Homer set up in a manner that would keep me as comfortable as possible, and while doing so, the handlebar stem was dropped significantly lower than it had been. I took it for a quick ride down the street and said, "Well, I think it's as good as it's going to get with the time we have."

In the morning, we agreed that Sam would come out and meet me at or near the first refill station/rest stop in case there were any problems.  When he arrived to meet up about 11 miles into the ride, I was doing great. "My hands don't hurt at all," I proclaimed with glee. "We'll see what happens as time wears on, but I'm really doing fine." We were both in a bit of shock knowing my history with this type of handlebar, but I wasn't going to fight it. We decided to meet up again close to the half way point, and off I went to continue the ride.

To make a long story short(er), I made it to the end of the ride (including the ride to and from the starting/ending point) and I wasn't dying or in extreme pain. There was a bit of fatigue, though that was to be expected as it was a longer distance than I typically ride, but I survived and even rode again the following day and rest of the week.

Perplexed by all of this, we attempted to figure out what had changed about the set up, but the only item we could definitively point to was the act of lowering the handlebar stem. While this had always seemed counter-intuitive to me (to lower the stem, thus putting greater pressure on my hands), it actually had the opposite effect. Rather than making the ride more painful, it actually made it easier and more pleasant. When I rode, I used my core muscles more frequently, which kept a great deal of the weight off of my hands. The stem is still high by roadie standards (it currently sits just a tad higher than the saddle), but lowering it seems to have solved the problems I was experiencing with drop bars in the past. The lesson? I'm not entirely sure, but I believe continuing to experiment and try different ways of setting up a bike is important. I may have driven poor Sam absolutely batty with my constant requests to change handlebars, stems, etc, but in the end, I think we've managed to find a way to make this set up work.

The Venus de Miles Curse and Ride Results

"What curse of Venus de Miles?" you may (or may not) be asking yourself.  Every year, at the eleventh hour, something inevitably goes wrong with the bicycle I intend to ride (that bike generally being my trusty steed, the Hillborne), and I end up riding a bike that is both fairly new to me, and that I am not entirely comfortable riding as of the day of the ride. This year, was no different, and while I was completely prepared and ready to ride the Hillborne, I would have had to ride without a seatpost or saddle, and let's face it, that just wasn't going to happen. Instead, I ended up taking the Homer (a bit lighter, certainly, but it currently has the randonneur handlebars on it, and as many are aware, any drop bar and I just don't get along). I'll spare you all the details of how the disaster all went down, but suffice it to say that I was definitely worried about embarking on a long ride on a bicycle I am not yet comfortable riding - and with drop bars nonetheless.

Just before the ride started at around 7:15am
*Photo credit to Sam

Saturday night, I got about 2 hours of sleep. I was nervous (goodness only knows why - though I'm sure a great deal of it had to do with riding a bike I haven't ridden much at all). On Sunday morning, I couldn't eat anything more than a couple bites of oatmeal before I left, but still arrived feeling ready to take on the ride. I honestly wasn't sure that I would make it to the end, but I was going to give it all I could until I couldn't go anymore. Sam had rode with me to the start of the ride (it's an all women's ride, so he wasn't allowed to play), and planned on meeting up at a convenient spot at some point later in the ride with another friend (which we did).  I waited in line for the waves to actually get going, listened to the pre-ride music blasting through the speakers surrounding us, and prayed that I would at least make it to the first stopping point.

Waiting with the ladies to get going with Venus de Miles 2012

The first leg of the ride was pretty much all up hill, with a short exception of about 2 miles, and I arrived at the first rest stop to replenish water in decent time (for me). My hands weren't hurting and I still had lots of energy, so I didn't take long to get back on the road again.

First rest stop... still feeling great!
*Photo credit to Sam

As a quick side note, I would like to say thank you to all who chimed in regarding the chamois pad. I was a bit nervous to ride wearing this without having a lot of time with it prior to this event, but it worked out extremely well, and while my posterior is still sore, I was able to make it through without the normal pain that starts about 20-30 miles into a ride - so, officially, thank you to all.

Such creative "drag" outfits!

This guy was fabulous! He was missing his wig here (I caught him off guard at a re-fill station)

Rather than going through every detail of the ride, I will say that there were a few things I was very grateful to see. The first, was ice at every rest stop. It was a very warm day, and having ice to cool down the water was amazingly wonderful! The second was the men in drag. These guys are so awesome. With all the heat, they still came out and hammed it up, wearing dresses, make up, wigs, and so on. The gentleman pointed out in the picture above with a purple arrow was close to me most of the ride and he always took the time to say hello, check on me each time he passed, or offer words of encouragement as I struggled up a tough hill. The last thing that really impressed me this year was (thankfully) that everyone seemed to be incredibly polite, friendly and excited to ride. I was so grateful to be surrounded by women who were enjoying themselves and encouraging each other.

A good chunk of this ride is up hill (as I've pointed out). I would say 60-70% if I were going to take a rough guess, and as most know from reading here, I am not a hill climber by any stretch. While not all of the ride was pretty to see, there were some beautiful pieces in the higher climbs. Honestly, I didn't take enough photos because when I was going up I didn't want to stop for fear I wouldn't get re-started, and when descending I was so thrilled to be going faster than 5 mph, I didn't want to pull off either.  I am happy to report that I was able to climb every hill without getting off the bike... I was travelling very slowly on some of them, but I managed to make it through. My goal for this ride was to finish in under 8 hours (not a very lofty goal for most, I am aware), and I finished it in just over 4 hours of ride time. It wasn't lightening fast, but I didn't expect that I would be... however, I will say that I finished the 51 miles (even with all the climbing) faster than I normally ride the 33 mile leg of this ride that lacks the number of hills. In total, I rode just over 58 miles (including the ride to and from the race), and managed to still be able to walk at the end (sort of).


With the limited amount of preparation time I had before the ride, I think all went pretty well. There are so many people who need to be thanked and I couldn't possibly mention them all here. It was so nice to have little messages of encouragement throughout the day from my kickboxing pals cheering me on.  It definitely made me smile and kept me moving forward. Having Sam (and Will) meet up with me in a couple of spots during the ride was a welcomed sight, and as Melanie recently pointed out to me, Sam really is very much the one to encourage me, just like the commercial above. To the ladies of Inspire Salon, my God, it was nice to have smiling faces, the hand massage, and a cold towel at the end of the ride, and to everyone who donated to the fundraising efforts, I am so very, very thankful! Now, it's time to rest (and hopefully sleep) - at least for a few hours.

Rivendell A. Homer Hilsen: Initial Thoughts/Review

As some may have gathered after the guest post recently from Sam, I have acquired another Rivendell bicycle.  I intended to wait a bit longer to post any sort of opinions or thoughts about the bike, but because the cat is out of the bag, so to speak, I thought I'd write some initial thoughts and will follow up at a later time as things change, and as I have more time to ride the bike. Please keep in mind that these are just some thoughts after having the bike for a somewhat short period of time (a couple of months), and I'm sure they will change as more riding takes place.

The A. Homer Hilsen made its way here a bit by happenstance. While I was browsing bicycles (as I often find myself), I came upon a discounted frame and honestly couldn't say no. Okay, I could have said no, and perhaps should have, but I didn't.  I almost felt as though I couldn't turn it away because it was the correct size, and I (as many do) have eyed this frame for some time, wondering what sort of differences I would find, if any, between the Sam Hillborne and the A. Homer Hilsen. I went into the purchase with the mindset that the Homer would end up being more of a faster ride, road bicycle, and the Hillborne would be the hauler, long distance, eventual touring kind of bike. With that in mind, I decided to keep the Homer stripped down, and reserve the fenders, racks, large bags, etc for the Hillborne (though racks can be put on both frames).

To provide some sizing comparison info for the two bikes I'm riding:

Sam Hillborne
Frame Size: 48cm
Stand Over: 74.9cm
Top Tube (effective): 54.5cm

A. Homer Hilsen
Frame size: 47cm
Stand Over: 73.5cm
Top Tube: 52cm

To obtain more info on sizes, geometry, etc, you can see Rivendell's size chart here. There's also a ton of information that can be read on the Rivendell website in regard to each frame, as well as numerous reviews to be found with a quick search of the web.

Initially, I was excited about the Homer's size because I've always felt that the Hillborne is just slightly large for me. What I found amusing, is that I've grown accustomed to this "large" feeling, and now it is simply comfortable, so when I first rode the Homer, I wasn't sure what to think. I started saying things like, "I feel cramped on this bike," and "Why are the handlebars so close?" The Homer was set up with the same size (same reach) stem as the Hillborne, but after a few rides, I was fairly certain it would be difficult to get used to the closeness. I believe part of this could be due to the pressure on my hands. Having the handlebars farther away helps me distribute weight to the rest of my body more easily, rather than resting it all on my wrists/hands (or at least, this has been my experience to date). After obtaining a longer reach handlebar stem, I felt much more at ease on this bike, though it has now become an issue of perhaps being too stretched. It's funny how a small change (50mm) can make a big difference.

A slightly off topic note on the handlebars:
The Homer was built up first with randonneur bars (from Nitto). I have wanted to try these and thought it would be a good opportunity to give this a go. I took the bike on a few rides with this set up, and ultimately found (as I have in the past with new bicycles), that I, personally, cannot seem to get a good working set up with any kind of drop bar. I really like the "hook" portion of these bars, as it feels like a more natural hand position (to me), but inevitably, after 10-15 miles, I find my hands and wrists to be in severe pain. So, off came the rando bars, and on went my old standby: the albatross bar. A few rides later, I started to think that maybe I should try the randonneur bars again (maybe I hadn't given them a fair shake), so they were put back on, and then subsequently removed when I came to my senses. I have to admit, I definitely have "drop bar envy," and it's difficult when I desperately want to make this type of handlebar work for me. I keep trying, so perhaps one day I'll find the right set up.

The Homer is most certainly a lighter bike than the Hillborne. Routinely, the Hillborne is pushing close to 40 lbs (if not more) by the time I get everything I need. In addition, the Hillborne frame is physically heavier, so even if they were set up exactly the same, the Hillborne would weigh more than the Homer. In its current set up, the Homer is around 26 lbs. Obviously, this is a significant amount of weight to lose on a bicycle... yet, I don't find that it adds to my speed. Where it does seem to make a difference is on hill climbs. While the actual speed I'm travelling doesn't seem to vary much, there is significantly less effort needed to climb with the Homer. Of course, if I were used to riding a 15 lb carbon frame, this might be a completely different story.

In more arbitrary terms, I find the Hillborne to be a stable and solid bicycle, and while I wouldn't say that the Homer is not solid or is unstable, I have yet to find the right balance on this bike quite yet. If I look at the history of edits with the Hillborne though (of which there were many), I know it is likely just  a matter of finding the right pieces to the puzzle to help this all come together. I have noted, however, that the Homer seems to ride a straighter line without steering. Meaning that if I were to take my hands off the handlebars on the Homer, it would pretty much steer itself straight ahead (assuming the road is level, of course), whereas the Hillborne, in my experience, requires a bit more handling to keep a straight line. Neither way is bothersome to me, but I've just found it interesting.

There are some minor annoyances to date with the Homer. One that stands out most to me is that the seat tube bottle cage mount is too high on the frame, and I cannot get a standard height bottle into it, so instead I use a short bottle (fortunately, we have many, many bottles sitting around). The Hillborne mount is lower down on the seat tube, and I'm not certain why the Homer has different positioning. A similar problem occurs on the mount under the down tube, though I expected this due to the small frame size.

I am still trying to determine exactly how to set up the Homer so it functions in the best possible manner.  Most of the parts were items sitting around, so they weren't specifically sought out for this frame, nor are they particularly exciting, but I will share them regardless. Currently, the bike is running with a Sugino XD2 crank (24/36/46), a 3x8 drive train (cassette is 11-32 teeth), Pari-Moto 650b x 38 tires (which, actually are kind of exciting, but I can share more on those later), an inexpensive wheel set picked up on e-Bay last year, and Shimano 8sp bar end shifters. The derailleurs are also nothing impressive - both are Shimano - the front is Sora, and the rear is an XT Deore. I have switched back and forth between the Brooks B-17 and the B-72 saddles a few times now, but I'm having difficulty finding one that works well. If I lower the handlebars, the B-17 works better, but with the stem raised higher, the B-72 is a closer fit (thought still not ideal).

Not being mechanically inclined, I'm hesitant to comment too much on the parts making up the whole; however, I will state that one advantage thus far I've experienced in the Homer vs Hillborne saga is the shifting. The 8 speed gearing on the Homer seems to shift much smoother than the 9 speed on the Hillborne. I don't know if possibly this has to do with the smaller frame sizes, and thus some agitation with the chain moving across more rings? Perhaps someone more informed/skilled can provide better details in regard to that matter.

I have yet to mention the looks of this bicycle, but it is in fact gorgeous. Perhaps I assume this goes without saying? People stop and stare, want to touch, ask if it's an old bike, and so on. If this bothers you, perhaps it's better to go in another direction - it's hard to keep people from touching it, frankly. In fact, I had it at farmer's market recently and it was definitely a topic of conversation (which included some caressing and touching of lugs/paint/handlebars/saddle/etc. I have made my peace with the idea that it's simply a bike that needs to be touched, and I understand that it's part of having a bike that's different from what most are riding.

Ultimately, this bike has already undergone a multitude of changes, and they will undoubtedly continue as I attempt to understand it better. I am happy to update about the Homer at a later time, as I'm sure some thoughts and opinons will change. Would I buy the Homer again? Yes, I believe I would, though I will be happy to have it settled into a more permanent state. If I had to choose between the A. Homer Hilsen and the Sam Hillborne, which would I pick? That may be a topic to tread upon lightly. I think I can more accurately state that if I were looking for a road bike to race with, I wouldn't choose either of these (but if you're looking at one of these, it likely isn't for road racing anyway), but if I were looking for an every day bike, a ride that can do distance and provide comfort, and/or a bicycle that works in many different set ups or variations, one of these two would definitely be on the list. Time will tell if one wins out over the other, but for now I am enjoying simply discovering the differences and similarities between the two.