Custom Tandem: Dream or Nightmare?

**For the squeamish, I thought I should preface with a warning that there is a mildly graphic (depending on your tolerance level for "graphic") photo included about half way through this post. It's not obscene, but I felt it only fair to forewarn those who are sensitive to such things.


"Eeeeek!!" I screamed aloud, despite the fact that, as is typical during the week, I was alone in my work space. I had just received word that our new tandem had been shipped and would be arriving soon. My excitement was plentiful so off went a quick message to Sam to let him know that we'd be in possession of our new double-steed in the next few days. I sat smiling ear-to-ear, clapping my hands like a giddy school girl.

If you are unfamiliar with our tandem history, I was a person who swore up and down that Sam and I would never, ever, ever ride a tandem bike. I was convinced that we would end up killing each other. He would want to travel too far or too fast and I wouldn't be able to keep up. At least, that's what I'd convinced myself was the truth and was our general reason for not trying it out. Even after my mom and step-dad had offered to let us ride their single speed cruiser tandem as a test, I was insistent that it would not go well and I was in no way going to put us through that sort of pain. I really believed that our pedaling styles would be too different - not to mention all of the other potential pitfalls that ran through my mind.

Still, for years I had -- mostly silently -- dreamed that it could be a possibility for us. I often idealized tandem riding, but I'd quickly return my mental state to one of what I believed to be reality: Sam and I were not meant to ride a tandem.

Then, as you may recall, I started what some might term a mild obsession with Rivendell's Hubbuhubbuh tandem. I had been on the reading list from the time it was announced as a possibility and the more I read, the more I found myself wanting to try it out. Just when we thought we'd missed out on our opportunity, one appeared somewhat magically and before we knew it, we were riding a tandem.

We had our down points with it, but overall we really enjoyed riding together. The biggest problem, however, was the fit. The captain position is set up at its most compact and is still truthfully too large to be effectively piloted by either of us. Still, we powered on, riding like little fiends over hilly and flat terrain, through dirt and gravel -- we just couldn't seem to stop.

Over a very short span of time, we realized we were going to have to find a tandem that fit us better, particularly if we wanted to ride more than about 50 miles (80km). Neither of us wanted to go a custom route (both for the time involved and the cost), but after an attempt to rent the smallest tandem we could find locally, we realized that unless we were willing to wait indefinitely for a mythical x-small tandem to show up secondhand somewhere, we'd have to go the custom route.

We decided on Rodriguez Bikes to do the build after a fair amount of reading and chatting with our (relatively local) tandem dealer. The biggest reason for selecting Rodriguez over the local dealer was that I'd had a custom bike made with Rodriguez in the past and there was a level of familiarity.  I have not had good luck with custom bikes in the past, but this was a situation that was requiring a custom, as far as we were able to determine. With both riders being under 5'4", finding something out in the open market that might work would take nothing short of a miracle.

And so it came to the moment described above during which my insides felt ready to burst with excitement. We both had some trepidation in regard to this entire process. It's a similar feeling, I'd estimate, to someone who's only ridden a cruiser turning around and ordering a custom road bike. Perhaps it's not quite that extreme since we do have a fair amount of experience riding singles of all different sort, but knowing that we'd only experienced riding one tandem, we had moments of wondering (or at least I did) whether or not this new two-wheeled friend would be what we hoped for.  It meant putting a lot of trust in the builder to make something that made sense for us.

Since we were going custom, we also had the opportunity to choose the paint color. There are endless possibilities when it comes to paint and I don't have a great history of being decisive with these sorts of things. From single colors to fades to fancy specialized paint jobs, the choices quickly became overwhelming. I love having the opportunity to choose our own color, but it's easy to go from one extreme to another trying to figure out what we really want. Plus, we both had to agree on something and we tend to have very different ideas of what looks good. In reality, I know Sam would let me choose whatever I wanted, but because it is something we both ride, I really wanted us to both have input into the color choice.

After some discussion, we had narrowed the paint possibilities down to two. Sam decided that he wanted to be surprised and that I should choose between them, so after some back and forth (one option was bright and fun and involved some paint fading, but I feared we might grow tired of it over time; the other was simple, single color, and more subdued) I chose one and kept it secret (which was definitely not easy for me!!) so that when the box was opened, Sam would have a bit of that surprise moment he wanted.

The box arrived on a Tuesday and as the delivery company was bringing the box to the door, I could see a large indentation, as well as several smaller holes and impressions in the box. My stomach sank. Great, I thought, just what we need to deal with. The driver was kind enough to assist me with opening the top of the box to check on the contents and surprisingly, there didn't appear to be any damage to the bike. I breathed a small sigh of relief, but knew we'd have to inspect it further when it was completely removed.

The bike had been sent almost completely built with only the need to attach the handlebars to the stoker position, rotate the front handlebars, and attach our choice of pedals and saddles. Sam had protested the full build somewhat because he believed it would be better for us to choose our own parts, but ultimately we made the decision to go with a full build, knowing that we could upgrade parts down the road. We were told it should be just a mater of minutes before we would be riding our new tandem once it arrived. This sounded ideal.

When Sam arrived home, we pulled the bike from the box and the remaining items were attached. I was amused at the comically small size of the bike. "It looks like a tandem for kids," I said, laughing at the absurdity of its size, particularly in comparison to our current tandem. "No problem with stand over now." I'm not sure if we're both used to riding too large a bike or if it really is that small, but the tiny size had thrown me completely for a loop.

If I may take a brief detour from our present path in this tale, the two of us were holding on to a (misguided) belief that when this tandem arrived, it would be perfectly wonderful and all of our tandem woes would be solved. Having gone through two custom single bike builds in the past, I should have known better, but I was living in my dream land in which (apparently) all prior experiences disappear into another plane of existence, logic completely abandons my body, and utter bliss is all that exists.

We had shared some email conversations with MG of Chasing Mailboxes regarding tandems (we figured who better to offer some advice than a duo who ride long distances regularly on a tandem - and we must thank both of them again for sharing their thoughts with us) and MG had cautioned us with a bit of wisdom. One of her last statements read:  "As you know, it takes time to really dial in a bike, ESPECIALLY a tandem. They're like cats, each with their own distinct personality."

Ah, cats. They're so soft, fluffy and cute. Perhaps it was the wrong part of those words to focus on (okay, it was definitely the wrong part to focus on!), but when one is lost in the depths of excitement, it's super easy to ignore such sage words. Perhaps it wasn't so much ignoring this thought, but rather glossing over it a bit, believing that we would be okay because, you know, it's built for us - it can't be that bad to get 'er moving down the road, right?

And so, we return to our story as Sam and I prepared our newly unpacked tandem for our first test. At least we weren't being completely foolish and realized that I should take the tandem out for a quick spin around the block alone first, just to make sure everything was feeling good.

The Rodriguez built as it came to us with pedals/saddles added

Before even riding the tandem, we noticed that the color appeared more of a yellow-green than the darker, olive green we'd expected. With the dim lighting in the photo above, I'd say it looks a bit more green than in real life (though with time together the color doesn't seem quite as yellowed as it did initially). Still, we didn't find it unattractive... and, paint is fairly easily changed, if desired, especially on a steel frame, so we weren't particularly concerned with this bit.

The next issue we faced (and the more important one) was fit and feel. After a short run down the block with the tandem, nearly everything felt wrong. I tried again around a couple of blocks and things just continued down the same path. I felt as though I had absolutely no control of the bike -- and this was without another person on the back. I felt crammed into the cockpit when I stood between the saddle and the stem, something I'd worried about all along with the sizing. The bike seemed to wiggle all over the road whether at slow or higher speed. The only way I could explain it to Sam was that it just felt "wrong."

He rode the tandem alone too just to see if he could understand what I was trying to express. He came back unsure of how to help me feel more at ease.

"Maybe we just need to ride it together," I suggested.

So we set out on a short path around the neighborhood to see how it went. This was a complete disaster. Everything felt even more wrong with someone on the back. I felt as though the tandem's steering was under none of my control and it kind of just went wherever it wanted to go. Every little bump seemed to cause the bike to veer off on its own in an unintended direction.

The bruising (which was truly quite painful) that had developed on my abdomen from hitting the steerer tube each time I dismounted. If nothing else, it illustrates my determination to try to get this tandem to work (and maybe explains a few of the tears too).

I'll save the retelling of each round of this, but there were several, each time ending with me in tears and Sam silently angry. He wasn't mad at me necessarily (though I'm sure there was some of that too), but my frustrations tend to come out in tears while his turns to silent mulling.

Then, I thought perhaps asking the manufacturer for some suggestions to help us get through this initial stage would be helpful. Unfortunately, nothing beneficial came from that conversation. So, we went back to trying to figure things out for ourselves.

There were several weeks of trying to "figure things out" but not actually riding the new tandem. It was suggested by another tandem rider/builder that I try putting weight on the back of the tandem with panniers or something else loaded up so that I could do tests without feeling the pressure of another rider. This seemed like a good idea, so I gave that a whirl too. It was probably the best suggestion I received in regard to getting used to the new ride without putting two people in jeopardy.

We'd also made some changes, putting the handlebars lower and changing the bars themselves to another style, as well as trying different tires. Although the intention with this tandem was to be able to travel longer distances which was the original intention of the drop bars, if I couldn't use them effectively, then it was all for nothing, and I wasn't loving the way the first tires felt either, so both changes seemed like a move in the right direction.

Riding without another person went okay. I felt ridiculous pedaling around on a tandem without another body, but I also wasn't ready to brave it with Sam on the back quite yet. I just needed to feel at least somewhat competent with this new bike -- that at this point wasn't so new anymore. Riding around several miles with the back loaded and with the new set up actually went reasonably well, but the biggest problem was clearing my mind of the initial shock (and fear) of how different the two tandems are from each other.

We continued to make plans for a ride, but would always end up on the Rivendell tandem instead. Summer was slipping away, but every time I thought about riding the new one, I'd become physically ill just at the thought of it. We really were not off to the best start and I wasn't sure how to remedy the situation.

We were even riding occasionally with a tandem group and several of the riders continued to question why we were still riding the "old" tandem instead of the new, lighter one. I'm not sure we ever truly provided a coherent explanation, so I always felt the need to push extra hard to prove that we could stay with the group, even on our heavy (though a joy to ride) Rivendell tandem. I have no doubt that it seemed crazy that we continued to talk about this newer, lighter tandem, and yet never rode it.

One day, a couple of months after having received the new tandem, Sam was exasperated with our lack of riding the new steed. "Let's just sell it. If we're not going to ride the tandem, what's the point in having it?"

He had a valid point. Having money tied up in this custom tandem that just hung from our bike storage wasn't exactly ideal. Somewhere in the back of my mind though, I truly believed that we were going to make this new tandem work for us -- we just needed to ride it and I needed to conquer my trepidation with handling this bike.

Then, one day in August, while Sam had a weekday at home, I suggested that we take the tandem out for a test. I think it shocked Sam just as much as it did me. As soon as the words were out in the universe I began to regret the suggestion. My insides started to turn and I instantly felt ill. However, I knew that if we didn't get some rides in, it was unlikely we ever would.

On an approximately 30-mile ride during our testing period -- The steerer tube still hadn't been cut (and may not get cut) because I always have a fear of wanting to raise the bars higher (or change them entirely). I've managed to "unbruise" though, so I must've figured out how to avoid hitting the steerer upon dismount. :)

The ride was short, but it went surprisingly well. I was still a little shaky and reminded Sam not to push too hard off the starts, but I actually felt somewhat in control. Then, we followed it up with a slightly longer ride, and that one went okay too. We had little hiccups along the way and brief moments of panic from me, but overall, it was performing as we'd hoped. Small bites at a time, this tandem was starting to feel like something I could handle.

Our next outing took us on a little over 50 mile ride with some extra climbing. I was frankly surprised at how I felt, especially given our very rough start with this tandem. We arrived home with me feeling far more confident and Sam grateful that things were heading in a more positive direction.

What was interesting to both of us was after our 50-miler on the Rodriguez tandem, we decided to take a 20-mile, fun tandem ride on the Rivendell, just to have a little time together the following day. We both commented on how much a difference having a lighter tandem made because our bodies could feel the difference in effort needed to move the Rivendell at the same or similar speed.

So, here we are now, several months into having the new tandem in our hands and I would say that the decision to purchase an appropriately sized tandem was a good one. I had my doubts initially because I truly didn't believe another tandem could feel so completely different, but despite the extreme delay in getting the bike moving on the roads, I think we made the right choice. Things that initially felt foreign and "strange" have started to feel normal and in some sense even good.

One thing we never anticipated with the lighter weight of the tandem was how much flex the frame would have. This was one bit that took both of us by surprise in the beginning. It took some time to adjust to, but I don't notice it nearly like I had in the beginning (or perhaps I've simply adapted). Although I initially felt cramped when standing over the bike, that seems to have disappeared too.

We still don't have the mileage on the Rodriguez that we do on the Rivendell at this point, but I think it's fair to say that things are looking up. Despite our very rough start with this new tandem, it has actually turned around and I am happy to say that we can ride the no-longer-new-tandem together without feeling as though everything is wrong. I still don't entirely understand why it threw me off so much initially, but it definitely got in my head and I needed time to accept that it just wasn't going to feel like the Rivendell.

Frankly, I didn't believe that we'd ever get to this point, so I'm grateful and thrilled that we've shed a few pounds (about 15+/-), which has helped ease the workload for our legs (especially when pedaling uphill). I don't think it's made us any faster, but having less weight to roll is certainly a welcomed relief (and a properly sized tandem is certainly beneficial as well). Hopefully, we'll continue to enjoy the "new" tandem and have many more opportunities to ride together (or two-gether, as the tandem couples sometimes say).

And here we are... rolling into May!

Whew! I feel like it's been an eternity since I've posted here, but I wouldn't want to break my "once per month" unintended rule that I've started for 2018, so I figured on this, the last day of April, I should continue that trend. Hopefully, it will be the end of that cycle and things will get a bit more regular... or at least frequent, but if you've hung around here long enough, you know that I often say that and then the opposite takes place, so we'll just leave it at the thought that I have hope for more writing, but won't promise that as reality.

In part, I've wondered if there's still purpose in the blog. So many have changed formats and are using more Twitter and Instagram, likely because it's easier and more convenient to busy life. I have to admit that even I find that media much easier in the sense that if something amuses me in the moment, I can snap a photo and share without having to sit and take the time to format more elaborate thoughts. But, the other part of me knows that I enjoy the longer process of forming ideas (whether they feel cohesive or not once finished) and/or coming to realizations as I write. It is often therapeutic to be able to rid my mind of thoughts and get them down on paper (or screen, as is the case here).

The truth is that life has been shifting. I've felt it for awhile and I have tried to fight it, but it's not always easy to do. Other priorities are taking up time and there's just a reality to how much time there is in an hour, a day, a week, and so on.

This morning's ride was shorter, but green is starting to appear, which means summer is on its way and the long sleeves will soon be a distant memory

Riding is always a priority, but sometimes it takes different forms. There are times when all I can do is transport myself by bicycle to the places I need to go, and there are other times when I can roam freely for hours and push physical limits. Sometimes I record the rides, and sometimes I don't. There is always an ebb and flow to the whole process and it is obvious to me today that inconsistency is just a reality.

Several months ago, I mentioned that a new bike had landed here. I have been riding it (somewhat inconsistently -- because, I wouldn't want to shake up the erratic flow of present life), but I've also discovered that I don't think it's quite the bike for me. I had high hopes for it and there are aspects to it that I really do like quite a bit, but as a whole, it's just not what I was hoping to get out of the build. So, while I do have a post started about the bike, it may be a bit before I can clearly synthesize what I want to share out of the experience and the bike itself.

Sam and I had also been pondering another tandem bicycle, as has been indicated as a possibility in past posts. The "pondering" became a reality though when we submitted a request for a custom about a month ago. We have enjoyed the tandem far more than I ever thought possible, and the reality of it being too large (specifically, for the captain) over longer distances has taken its toll. Not to mention that we've been attempting to use it for purposes never really intended by the manufacturer. While we tried to just be tough and suck it up, there is a reality to any bike being too large and in order to continue our new-found infatuation, it was deemed acceptable to spend a little money to hopefully find a lot of enjoyment.

So, while we wait for the outcome of this experiment (which shouldn't be too much longer, as we've been told the frame is in the painting processes as of a week ago), we have, of course, high expectations for riding together throughout the summer months. I'm anxious for climbing and exploring and the many adventures we will hopefully be able to take together over the next several months (and years).

Of course, there's also a certain level of anxiety. Custom builds have not exactly been the best experiences for me in the past, and unfortunately with a tandem and our vertical challenges, it's really the only way that is possible. There is fear, like any other unknown, but we also know there will be tweaks to any bike - single or tandem - but have faith that the overall product will be good and usable for us. Only time will tell with certainty though.

In the meantime, we continue to ride - both solo and tandem - enjoying whatever time we are able to be on two wheels. I hope that you continue to roll smoothly through this spring and right into summer too. Feel free to share your adventures here as well. It's always fun to read what others are up to.

Choosing 650c Wheels

There are at least a handful of folks who read here awaiting a report on the new (I guess it's not really "new" anymore) road bike, but I'm still not quite to a point of being able to delineate my thoughts completely in that regard. Between winter and other preoccupations, it's been challenging to have many long rides since it's arrival, but I have been able to ride enough to understand that the choice of 650c wheels was likely a good decision.

During the process of building my (second round attempt) custom road bike, there came a point at which a discussion arose regarding wheels. I'd been avoiding the conversation as best I could, but I knew it was fast approaching. I had already been reading up on wheel size and was fairly certain this would be something we'd be discussing as the build moved forward. When a person is under 5'4" or perhaps even up to 5'5", the subject of wheel size probably should be a point of conversation, particularly with a custom build, but I didn't want to address it because I believed it would be foolish to build a bike with anything other than what I had considered to be customary.

*Image found via Fine Art America

I wasn't avoiding the topic merely because I'm stubborn either. Most anyone who's shopped for non-standard size tires can relay how challenging it can be to find tires necessary for a bike that doesn't accept the size ridden by the majority of the population. When I first purchased my Rivendell with 650b wheels, it wasn't exactly easy to find tires that pleased me. There were a few options (and the choices have grown with mountain bikes being manufactured with more regularity in the 650b size as of late), but even as compared to a 26" or a 700c wheel, there were - and really still are - relatively slim pickin's.

The 650c wheel size (at least in my mind) has always been associated with triathlon bikes too. Why on earth would I need this size? I have no intention of ever competing (at least competitively) in a triathlon with this bike, so would there really be a purpose in putting smaller wheels on my bike?

When I went on a quick online hunt for 650c tires, it became apparent that there were even fewer choices than for the 650b size. Why anyone would intentionally build a bike with 650c wheels was beyond me. It seemed as though I'd be putting myself at a disadvantage. Given my experience and discussion with local bike shop employees, I just didn't want to have a debate over wheel size. It seemed much easier to hold firm to my belief that I need 700c wheels. Perhaps I shouldn't have made this sort of pre-judgement, but it's easy to do when all I wanted was to make things as easy as possible and not add to any headaches that would potentially follow a decision to go with a smaller, non-bicycle-standard wheel.

The time finally arrived for me to make a decision about the wheel size and it was highly recommended that I opt for either a 26" wheel or a 650c, though the decision was left up to me. My belief (from all that I'd been told and read over the years) is that having a smaller wheel size was going to make me slower. I'm already slow, so the thought of adding to my tortoise status was not horribly appealing. I could choose a 26" wheel, but finding a moderate width tire for a road bike seemed even more unlikely as most 26" wheels are used by mountain bikers or city-cyclists - or bike tourists.

Then, I was sent a link to this article (which I highly recommend reading if you are considering a smaller wheel size). I will admit though that even after reading it I still wasn't convinced I needed a smaller size. Toe overlap has never been a huge issue to me and I tend to take corners and turns slowly anyway, so I just had a difficult time believing that it would matter.

I know that many of my beliefs prior to the current road bike stemmed from conversations with bike shop employees. If I really stop and think about it though, of course most bike shops are going to encourage me to ride 700c wheels. I can physically ride the bikes and this size is what is generally stocked in shops, so telling me that I require smaller wheels to be comfortable and prevent potentially dangerous situations could cost the shop a sale, or if they offered to customize it would come at a price - and perhaps they've learned that providing options at an additional cost for wheels hasn't been worthwhile?

Not that I think all shops or people working for a shop are attempting to fool or trick customers though. I truly believe that 700c has become such a standard that most don't stop to think of the potential benefits of customizing for a shorter rider - or, as pointed out in the linked article, it would cost a bit extra to actually help fit a cyclist properly, so manufacturers opt instead to stick with the generally accepted 700c size.

The more conversations with the custom builder, the more I realized that wheel size would be playing a huge role in more than just how fast I could travel or availability of tires. I began to understand that the frame itself would more than likely always have sizing (or more accurately, geometry) issues for me if I insisted upon running 700c wheels. If I was going to get the top tube short enough to be comfortable (and didn't want to compromise ride quality), a smaller wheel was going to have to happen. If we proceeded forward with the intention of using 700c wheels on my custom, concessions were going to be made with the frame build itself. It may end up being fine with a 700c wheel size, or it may be the worst decision I could make during the process.

As everything was getting mapped out, I could see that I would have body position compromises, ride quality adaptations, and perhaps I'd end up in a similar situation to my first custom build. Not wanting to end up in the same boat, I decided to go with the 650c wheel size and deal with the limited availability of tires - for better or worse (a bit of this was eased as we made the decision to build the frame able to handle both 650c and 26 inch wheels with only the need to switch brake calipers).

My frame of reference with smaller wheels caused a bit of panic with this decision. The bikes I've owned with smaller wheels have always felt slower to me than those with thinner, larger tires, but I didn't take anything into account other than wheel size with these thoughts. Obviously, much more goes into the way a bike feels than simply the wheels and tires. The wheels/tires play a big part, but if the frame isn't appropriately built for the rider, it would likely be the least of my concerns.

After riding the 650c wheels and tires for a few months now (though sporadically, I'll admit with everything going on in life at the present), I am happy to report that I don't feel any slower than I did with 700c wheels on any road bike I've owned. I'm sure there are many facets coming into play beyond simply the wheels and tires, but I am still happy with the decision to go with the 650c size. I'm sure as I get myself back into a rhythm with riding, I will find that this size was the way to go.

Yes, hunting down tires is a bit of a scavenger hunt and the options are pretty limited, but I think it was the right decision to make for me. If I were going to tour with this bike, I would have gone with 26" wheels/tires, and I still have the option to use them if I choose, but because I use this bike for road rides primarily on local passages, I don't worry as much about immediate availability of tires/tubes and can keep extras on hand as needed.

As for who makes 650c tires? I've compiled a small list to help anyone who might be on the hunt. Most of the tires are made for racers, but there are options to be found.

Continental Grand Prix 4000 II (max inflation to 120psi, 650x23c)
Continental Gatorskin (max inflation to 120psi, 650x23c)
Kenda Caliente (max inflation to 125psi, 650x23c)
Kenda Kontender (This is what I'm currently running as of the post date - max inflation to 125psi, 650x25c)
Michelin Pro4 Service Course (max inflation to 115psi, 650x23c)
Panaracer Terry Tellus  (If you can find them, this is a nice option to run a slightly wider tire - max inflation to 100psi - some have stated max 110psi, 650x28c)
Serfas Urbana (max inflation to 125psi. 650x28c - a nice, slightly wider tire. These can only be purchased, as far as I know, via Rodriguez Bikes)
Vittoria Rubino Pro III (no stated max inflation, but have read reviews of others riding at 120psi, 650x23c)

If you know of other manufacturers and would like to add to the list, please let me know (either in comments or drop me an e-mail). I'm happy to edit the list as others become available.

The first time I dropped into a shop and picked up an extra 650c tube, I definitely received some odd stares. The cashier commented, "Hmm, 650c huh? Don't see people buying those too often." I just smiled. Someone must buy them or they wouldn't stock them, right? Plus, the wheel size, combined with proper geometry, seems to have made a huge difference in the ride. I do have hopes that one day it will be a bit easier to track down tires, but until then I think there's enough available to keep me on the road and happy.

I suppose more than anything, I'm learning not to be so set in my beliefs about certain things when it comes to bicycles. It's easy to get caught up in a particular item or size and not truly look at the facts in regard to the way I ride, what I ride, and so on. Is the 650c wheel for everyone? Probably not, but it's a great option to have for those of us needing smaller framed bikes and more proportionate wheels.

A Custom Bicycle (Part 3): Hope on the Horizon

If you've missed the first two posts in this series, you can find the first by clicking here, and the second by clicking here. If you're all caught up or don't care to read the initial happenings, feel free to carry on from this point.

Lest I scare off potential custom frame customers (which is not my intent at all), I should say that I don't think my experience is typical for custom built bikes. Most people I know or with whom I've spoke about their builds have had wonderful experiences, and the pains they had prior to the custom were mostly if not completely eliminated with geometry made to the riders needs or specifications. The problem was that I didn't think I could get to a good point with this particular custom. I had tried to push forward in the hope that one day it would simply be right, but at some point I had to accept that this wasn't working for me.

One thing I pride myself on is being able to own up to my mistakes. I guess I've made so many of them it's easy for me to accept that I'm not infallible. When it comes to bicycles this couldn't be more true. For those who know my history in adulthood with bikes, you know that I seem to think one thing will be ideal and then come to terms with a reality that is often quite the opposite. I've made my peace with making errors, but I really don't like losing money; and I have to say, having mistakes with new, and particularly custom bicycles is a costly endeavor.

In all of this, I had begun communication with other bicycle makers and a couple of days after I'd sent off my notes to builders, I received replies from each. I already felt better knowing that I was able to communicate directly with someone, rather than having a go-between. I didn't know if they'd be able to provide answers to what had gone wrong, but I knew that I needed to be able to move forward. During my electronic communications, one reply stood out among the others and I started conversing with the owner (Dan) of  R+E Cycles in Seattle. They are the makers of Rodriguez bikes.

As you may recall, a Rodriguez was on my list of potentials when I went with the original option, but because I am somewhat acquainted with the manager of a local shop and I really preferred having a local contact, it seemed appropriate to go with the IndyFab. As I was reading Dan's reply though, I felt relieved that someone seemed to understand what I was going through - even if the reply was mostly perfunctory at that moment. As we continued to chat, he wasn't judging me or condemning me for my choices, but rather offered up some thoughts on how he might be able to help. He also advised me to give my LBS the opportunity to resolve things, and perhaps even contact IndyFab myself. I thought this was admirable, especially for someone who could easily have fed into my emotions about the custom bike which would've made the situation even more tense. Instead, he wanted me to think about possible resolutions and come to rational conclusions.

One of the first images I received from Dan.

There was more conversation with Dan during the first three days of our back and forth than I had through the entire process with the other custom build (come to think of it, there was more discussion in our first day of emailing). Dan had me send information about bikes that have worked for me (at least somewhat) in the past, the current custom specs, and we chatted about what was working, what wasn't, and what I was looking for in a bike. I received links to articles to read, CAD drawings/overlays of bikes I've ridden and owned, and so much information that I knew I was heading down a much better path, even if there still wasn't a definite outcome or resolution.

The biggest problem now was that I knew I had to convince Sam that another custom bike was the way to go. Yep, I was at the point that I was considering a second build - scary as that sounded even to me. I liked the information I was receiving and the direction everything was heading, and it all made sense or paralleled my personal experiences. Through our conversations, I was finding a way to better explain what I wanted from someone who has the know-how and many years of experience.

I really didn't want to have the conversation about another build with Sam though because I knew that he was very much opposed to another long distance bike venture, let alone having another custom bike built, but I was convinced Rodriguez was the way to go. Surprisingly, Sam was pretty easy in this regard. I'd expected a bit of kickback, but after explaining the conversations I'd had with Dan, and providing some information about Rodriguez' policies, he accepted the reality that this was likely what I should have done in the first place. Without much of a battle, Sam was on board with looking at another build.

Of course, when I've had a not-so-great experience, it can be difficult to let go of my own doubt. Despite Dan's reassurance that he could see some issues with the geometry of the former custom for me (and I was already well aware of this fact), and even after all I'd read, I couldn't help but wonder if another build would really provide better results. I wanted to believe it was obtainable, but I have to admit I was terrified of another possible bad outcome. It helped that R+E wants their customers to be happy and will work with them if it isn't right, and Dan was more than convincing in his messages, but still the doubt clung to me like an annoying fly buzzing around my head.

At this juncture, I had put the former custom up for sale. I had to somehow fund the start of a new build, and of course it only made sense to let it go now rather than holding on to it and allowing it to age and lose more value. Just because the frame wasn't right for me didn't mean it wouldn't work for the right person. Plus, I know me, and if a bike frame sits around, I want to have it built up - even knowing that it will only cause physical pain. There was a lot of interest in the frame on the surface, but no one was ready to move forward with a purchase. I can't say I blame those who were looking. It's a lot of money to spend on something that might not work for the new rider either. It had to be the right person who would come along in order to make the set up work properly.

Even though I was waiting on the sale of the former frame, I made a decision to move forward with having the Rodriguez built. Our nicer weather was fading quickly - as in, it was pretty nearly over - and I knew I wanted to get the new frame underway. After having spoke with Dan for a few weeks via e-mail, the team at R+E was quick with getting my frame into the queue and I was told it would be just weeks until the new bike would be ready. Yikes! I sold off a few items to get the deposit I needed and prayed that the "old" custom would sell quickly.

As luck would have it, I didn't have to wait too long for the right person to come along to buy the frame. There was both a sense of relief and a little sadness watching the frame go off to its new home. It gave the whole situation a sense of finality, but I knew deep down it was exactly what needed to be done.

*Image from R&E Cycles
So many choices (and even more not shown)!

In the meantime, I set about picking a frame color. I'd asked if it would be possible to just clear coat the steel, rather than painting it, but was informed that they've actually tried this in the past and the frame rusted under the clear (bummer); and because I wasn't ready to watch a custom bike turn to rust before my eyes, I decided that I'd better make a decision on paint.

I am really, really, really horrible at picking paint colors for projects. One might think that it would be easier for me being a painter myself, but in truth, I love so many different colors and color combinations, and dependent on my mood, I can swing from loving something very subtle to something over-the-top bright. If you remember the (very long post on) the VW project, I stewed and pondered for a long time about what color to paint the Beetle. It is just paint, but I wanted to make sure it was something I would like, and after the failure with the former bike build, I was definitely against painting the new version purple (though part of me thought perhaps painting it a similar color would provide some redemption).

I had also debated whether or not to do a frame/fork only or to have R+E build an entire bike. Ultimately, I decided that I needed a fresh start and if they built it from the ground up, I would be speaking to people who would know exactly where we were starting, should something go wrong with the fit when it arrived.

As insane as this story sounds (and has been), I'm learning a lot through all of it - perhaps even more than I ever wanted to know. I'm not done with the process and am in the midst of waiting for the frame to be built, but I seem to feel a lot more at ease this time. I think it helps that I've had communication throughout the process, and if I have questions along the way, there is always someone who is able to answer in a timely manner, rather than having a go-between who may not necessarily get all the information to the parties who need it. There is a level of patience and information sharing that has been unparalleled in my experiences with other shops, despite the fact that we are geographically 1,300 miles apart.

I've  also learned that I couldn't see myself completing another custom build with a company that I am unable to speak to directly. I think for some folks (and maybe even the majority) having a go-between works out well. It provides a cushion and another source of information or another opinion. The problem was that the go-between didn't seem to be working for me, but rather assumed a lot and didn't provide any options or opinions along the way. The go-between also never provided specific information before final decisions were made. I made the assumption that because I had a connection with the local shop, things would somehow work themselves out, which is entirely my fault, and ultimately was the disservice or really the demise of the build in the end.

A part of my reasoning for not choosing Rodriguez initially was that I had read one short, insignificant review somewhere online that indicated that the person hadn't had an ideal experience with their bicycle. When I searched high and low, I couldn't find anyone who had anything negative to say about their IndyFab, and in fact, everything I found was glowing and recommended the company and their bicycles highly. While I cannot say that one company is better than the other (because I truly don't believe that), I should have known better than to allow one less-than-stellar opinion/experience to influence a decision so greatly - particularly from an anonymous source I don't know personally. It wasn't the only factor involved, but I know it played a part in the final decision.

I have no way of knowing what will come with the new custom at this point, so to judge or compare the tangible goods at this juncture is impossible. I could very well end up in exactly the same situation - with the very important exception that I know R+E will work with me to resolve any problems, even if it means (heaven forbid) re-making the frame. I will say that I have far greater confidence this time around and have high hopes for what is to come. With the information that has been shared by R+E, I've begun to understand that the issues I had with the first round frame weren't going to be resolved with a different stem, seatpost, or wheels, much as we tried.  I know I am particularly fussy about set-up and position, but it has been glorious to have a professional recognize so quickly why the frame wasn't working for me. In the end, I think this is what has been invaluable - the years of experience and work R+E has done with its customers to make sure the fit is correct for each rider.

So, this is where I leave you for now. Still a bit of a cliffhanger I am aware, but there will be a "part four" of sorts when the time comes to provide more information down the road. As the post title indicates, there is hope on the horizon, but without making the leap of faith and trusting that this will be a better experience, I wouldn't have the opportunity to know whether a properly built custom could be the answer I've been seeking. I have entered into this round understanding that there will be tweaks along the way and that likely no one could get it perfect out of the gate, but I think there is a far greater understanding between manufacturer and customer with this round. Whereas the first round I was worried throughout the process (justifiably so, as is apparent on this side of things), I find that I can simply let it go with this build, and trust that when there is a decision to be made, I'll be asked and/or guided to a proper answer - and then it's up to me to make the decision. At this point, that's really all I can ask for in a fresh start.

I am excited about what is to come. One of the benefits of being someone who often lives in the future is that I don't set up a nest in the past, the mistakes made, or dwell very long in what - if I really spent a lot of time thinking about it - could be viewed as quite a mishap full of physical pain, grief, and loss of money. As I've stated before, I tend to be someone who learns lessons the hard way. Mother can tell the toddler in me that the stove is hot, but unless I touch it for myself, there is always doubt in my mind and I wonder just how hot the stove is exactly. The new bike will arrive as winter weather is close to hitting, which means I probably won't get a ton of time to test things out; however, the future looks brighter with this round, and I'm holding out hope for a much happier ending with round two. Hopefully, the stove is turned off this time too - I don't particularly enjoy getting scorched.

A Custom Bicycle (Part 2): George Washington or Benedict Arnold

If you missed the first part of this post and would like to get caught up, you can find it here. Otherwise, feel free to carry on to part two below.

I was starting to think I was crazy, and that I'd spread my insanity to Sam. Had he just fed into my thoughts of what had been happening? I know that if anything he is a very sound and reasonable person, so odds are he'd sway in favor of the bike being fine and just needing some adjustments, but he seemed to be just as frustrated with his findings as I'd been with riding the bike over the weeks prior.

Expecting that we would experience a ride similar to the Crown Jewel - at least generally speaking in reference to set-up, we went to a bike shop to test a version of my former carbon road bike (my bike would be a now nearly 4-year old version, so we'd have to find the closest match). I couldn't recall with any kind of great accuracy the sensations I had while riding that bike any longer, but I remembered feeling fast and not weighted. Now, I simply wanted to know if I had invented an experience that never existed, or if it really was that I am simply not in the shape I was last summer.

I took the test bike out first, and over some very rough terrain - rougher than anything I ride on the roads locally. The road had huge gaps, cracks and potholes and was covered with chipseal, so I knew it would be an equivalent, or even worse than the rough roads I ride. What I noticed almost immediately was that I didn't feel any of the roughness or rattling like I had on the Crown Jewel. The ride felt soft - not noodle-like or squishy - but it wasn't hurting, and I could actually climb to get up a hill without feeling as though I was going to wipe out and my energy was going toward something that propelled me forward. It was all very confusing and I thought that certainly I was inventing all of this in my head, so I went back to the starting point to let Sam have a try. I said nothing to him and let him set out to make his own evaluation.

When Sam returned he said, "It feels like your old bike - easy to ride and it doesn't cause pain. I can actually pick up speed when I'm on it." He shook his head and said, "Honestly, I really didn't expect to feel such a huge difference between them, but it is more than obvious that something isn't right with the IndyFab."

I had to try it again. I got back on and rode through a shorter version of my earlier test and came to the same conclusion. While this bike was in desperate need of a tuning (it was definitely not shifting well), and it wasn't set up quite properly for me, there was no denying it had a completely different feel than the Crown Jewel. We left, scratching our heads and still thinking that there must be something wrong about the setup on the CJ at home.

An experimental ride with the IndyFab Crown Jewel during a stop off to see Sam at work.

After some reading, we thought the tires I'd chosen for the Crown Jewel were too harsh and perhaps causing some of the rattling that was ringing through my body while riding. We put the softer Schwalbe Durano tires I've had on prior bikes on the IndyFab and decided to give that a try to see if it would dampen some of the road vibrations I was feeling. After all, if we take things one problem at a time, perhaps we could figure out a solution for the whole bike.

During the research, we also discovered the possibility that the wheels on the bike could be causing the heavy/dragging/weighted sensation. I questioned this possibility as the wheels had worked fine on the prior carbon bike without issue. Additionally, when spun freely, there didn't seem to be any kind of drag or stopping taking place. Would I have to replace the wheels in order to really find out?

The next day, I decided to do a direct, back-to-back experiment with the Crown Jewel and the Hillborne. I took the CJ on a 25 mile ride, followed by the exact same ride on the Hillborne. I intentionally took the CJ first because I knew I'd be fresher and ready to take on the ride. If anything, this would give the Crown Jewel an advantage, and since it was currently at a disadvantage, I wanted to give it all I could to stand a chance.

To put it bluntly, the CJ ride did not go well. I had to stop multiple times over the first 12 miles just to get the numbness in my hands to stop. While riding, other people passed me on bicycles as though I was standing still, and while that is often the case for me, I could feel the effort I was putting in, and yet, there was nothing I could do to prevent them from easily zipping by. I was tired by the time I rode the Hillborne, and definitely in pain from the Crown Jewel, but I somehow still managed to travel more easily - even being on a bicycle that outweighs the CJ by at least 15 pounds.

Sam had given up. He stated his opinion as simply as he could when he advised me to give up on this Crown Jewel and get something that would actually ride properly for me. Yes, it would be difficult to lose the money and mentally painful as I had picked out what I wanted, but it was insane in his mind to continue to try to adapt something that apparently wasn't resolvable.  As difficult as it was, I was starting to swing to his side. In fact, as I'd been riding the Crown Jewel during my experiment, all I could think about was being done with the ride - the exact opposite of what I would hope for in a bicycle. I want to want to ride. I don't want to dread being on my bike or make excuses as to why I'm not out using it.

Looking over the information that had finally been e-mailed to me by the bike shop, I realized that the top tube had been made more than two centimeters shorter than I typically ride. I know they had concerns about my weak and damaged hand/wrist, but I had explicitly stated that what I'd been riding was working fairly well with some small exceptions. Why would they randomly change this - and particularly without telling me? It just seemed like a dramatic change and I couldn't help but wonder if this was playing a role in many of the issues I was experiencing.

One of the biggest issues with this custom build is that I wasn't speaking to Independent Fabrication myself. Instead, I was going through a mediator - the local bike shop - and who knows what information was given to whom, and how that information was being interpreted. In that moment, I wished more than anything that I'd selected a company I could speak to directly, rather than playing this game of telephone - for which I seemed to be using a tin can with no string attached. It's a horrible realization to suddenly comprehend that because the bike shop determined that I didn't need to know any of the actual measurements, I was now potentially left with a bike I couldn't use.

I felt all sorts of emotions. I was angry - both at the LBS and myself. I was frustrated - because it felt like there was nothing I could do to resolve any of this. I felt stupid - for having thought that a custom bike was the answer I'd been waiting for all this time. I was in pain - literally from all the weeks - and now months - of riding something that just wasn't right. I was feeling all sorts of craziness and it was difficult to put it into words that weren't laced with profanity.

E-bay searches were quite common for about a week or so. I wanted to know what prices others were getting for their IndyFab's. I had passed the stage of caring what happened with this bike and just needed to know how much money we were going to lose. My searches were a bit eye-opening. It was easy to see that I would be lucky to get half of the cost back I'd spent on the frame and fork. Selling the bike whole wouldn't provide much more return, and with that thought, I was left to ponder whether I was really prepared to give up on this bike.

As we discussed the issues taking place with the CJ and the potential loss, Sam reiterated that he was perfectly fine with losing some money, as long as I got a bike that would work for me. In my frustration, I agreed that the Crown Jewel was not working  - however, in the back of my mind, I still couldn't stand the idea of giving up on it. I'm a bit hard-headed with certain things and this seemed to be my current fixation, but I agreed that I probably needed to look at something else.

People - friends, family, and even occasional passers-by would ask about the Crown Jewel. Those who knew me wanted to know how it was working and if I was still happy with my decision to get a custom bike. Honestly, I never knew how to respond. While I wasn't sorry about the actual act of working on a custom bike, and I wouldn't discourage anyone from moving forward with their own, I was really struggling many days to find the good in this new bike. My responses were always vague and non-committal. What else could I do at this point? I wasn't ready to bash the bike or its manufacturer because some small part of me still believed it was possible to get it to a place that worked. I know how finicky I am about bike set up and maybe this was just part of the process, even if it seemed like it should be going more smoothly.

The next decision was to try switching out the wheels on the bike. We had another set that were of supposed lower quality from a past build that had since been parted, but maybe it would make a difference. The wheels were supposed to be heavier, so I was doubtful it was going to improve the situation, but when trying to find solutions, it's better to give all avenues a try, rather than stubbornly avoid something.

At least the summer wetness left us with beautiful greens that lasted much longer than is typical.

As much as I believed there was no way the wheels were going to make any difference, they in fact made a change to the bike - enough that the Crown Jewel felt rideable - for at least very short distances - without causing me to break down in tears on the side of the road. We'd also switched the stem again, and put a different (though exactly the same model) saddle on the bike (this saddle has more miles on it, so it's a bit softer in feel than the previous one). This particular outing was better than many I'd been on with the CJ and I was glad to feel that the wheels did seem to resolve some of the problems. A lesson to be learned - no matter how expensive a set of wheels, it doesn't necessarily mean they are the best.

Of course, the wheels didn't fix or lessen all of the problems, and the twitchiness still remained. I figured this was merely something I would have to make peace with because even the longer stem we'd switched to wasn't entirely helping. The extreme hand problems seemed to have slightly lessened, which was great, but they were still present to greater or lesser extent, depending on the day/ride/route. In part, some of the pain may have been caused by the wheels, but I think it was also the roads I chose to ride (which are often chipseal and/or full of large holes) and the fact that I wasn't giving my body a break between experiments/rides. I also believed some of this was due to the reach on the bike.

One day I decided to just go on a quick spin in every day clothing - no gloves or padded anything - just to see how I felt. I wanted to pay particular attention to anything that seemed odd or out of place. I didn't take a GPS because I didn't care how fast or far I was going. I just wanted to know if there was any possible resolution. The things that were almost immediately noticeable:

1) The pressure on my hands was greater than almost any other road bike I've owned. This would explain (at least in part) why my hands go numb quickly into rides.

2)  I found myself wanting to move my hands back from the hoods about 2 inches. When they were sitting on the hoods, I had no bend in my elbow, which I know can create problems as well. This caused me to think that even though the top tube is shorter than other bikes I've had, the reach was somehow too far (I'm sure adding a longer stem hadn't helped matters).

3) When I'd scoot my rear end closer to the handlebars, I could avoid the "stretched" feeling, but then my knees felt as though they were going far too forward over the pedals. When I moved back to a proper pedaling position, the arm/hand issues began again.

Even though I traveled a fairly short distance on that ride, it was evident that there are flaws in this build for me that I wasn't sure could be resolved. We thought about a shorter stem (which we'd already done), but it had made the bike even more twitchy and it hadn't seemed to resolve the numbness either. The seatpost has a very small amount of setback, so we pondered putting a zero-set back seatpost on the bike, but I thought that would only result in the same pedaling issues I had during my experiment and would definitely affect power when riding.

I was fairly convinced that the numbers on the areas with purple arrows were the major contributing factors to my problems

Overall, the fit on the bike had improved somewhat from our initial days and weeks together, but I was not at all prepared to say that it was perfect (or even close - or for that matter workable) at this juncture. After reviewing (yet again) all of the measurements that had been sent, we realized that the reach seemed wrong. On prior bikes, this measurement had been several centimeters less, but I wasn't sure if it was that number alone or that number and other angles/measurements combined. It seemed strange that the actual top tube could be much shorter, yet the reach was so much longer. Something was wrong, I was sure.

At this point, it is more than safe to say I was disillusioned about the custom frame process. As of that moment, I couldn't state with certainty that it was worth the cost to have my own frame built. Many of the problems I had prior to the build persisted, and while I didn't fault IndyFab or the LBS for this entirely, I had serious doubts as to whether any custom frame would make enough of a difference to ever try this again. The problem is that the only way to really know would be to have another go-round, and I knew I was not prepared for that option (financially, physically, or emotionally).

I also had a couple of regrets as far as my decisions during the process of the build (again, these were my decisions, and not the fault of anyone but me). I wished that I had purchased a matching steel fork and that I'd had the frame built with eyelets for fenders and racks. As time progresses, who could know what I may want to do with the bike? While it's possible to attach racks by other add-on means, it would've been nice to have a bike with a top tube that isn't too long (eg: the Hillborne) for longer sorts of rides... but, at the time, my purposes for this bike were not focused in that regard. I'm not sure any of this would've mattered anyway, as the fit for my proportions just didn't seem to be working.

There are times when I really beat myself up (not literally, of course, because I'm not some crazy Jim Carrey wannabe), but it's hard not to think back on some of the things I do and wonder where it all went wrong and why I seem to make such bad decisions. IndyFab is not a poor choice for a custom build, and in fact they have a great company with lots and lots of very satisfied customers, but it was the wrong choice for me at that moment in time. As I wallowed a bit in my self-deprecating thoughts, I had to regroup and figure this out.

At this point, the IndyFab was being dismantled. I wanted absolutely nothing to do with it after my final attempt to see if I could make it work. I had gone on another short ride after my plain-clothes test and returned home with aching hands and other various problems. As I had headed out on that ride, I thought to myself that this was the Washington vs Arnold test and there would be no turning back. When I returned and uploaded the ride, I titled it Benedict Arnold it is then, and decided at that moment that as much as I didn't want to give up on the CJ, the bike had won and I wasn't willing to sacrifice feeling in my extremities because I was crippled from pain.

It was a tough day to watch as the bike was taken apart. I felt as though I had failed in this attempt to find something that really would work. I was upset because I knew I had talked Sam into letting me do this and now it was a gigantic failure. He was angry, and I was back and forth between tears one moment and anger the next. Suffice it to say, it was not a good time for us. I knew Sam didn't blame me for it, but it was hard not to take on the guilt from such an expense and feel completely responsible for its demise.

Sam was encouraging me to go and try out bikes again locally. We went one weekend and I rode a few different models that were similar to bikes I've owned in the past. I wanted a road bike again that was at least somewhat comfortable to ride because summer was screaming by and I knew I didn't have much time left to get in longer rides. However, I wasn't ready to make a decision based on what I'd tried in the local bike shops. Something inside me knew I had to go back to the start and take another look at my options.

One day as I sat pondering all of this mess I decided, with much trepidation, to type a couple of notes to bike builders. I honestly wasn't sure what I was doing or why I was even bothering to try to get answers from someone else, but I knew that it was important to figure this out. Bicycles are a huge part of my life and not having the one bike that allows me to put in more miles was causing a lot of anguish. Frankly, I don't know what I expected out of the e-mails. Perhaps I was looking for some validation, or maybe I just needed to believe that it was possible to find something that would work. Not really knowing what would come from it, I sent the notes off to builders who I thought might be able to offer some input.

This will be the stopping point for round two of this tale. I'm fairly certain I can get the rest of the thoughts up in the last of this series very soon.

Part 3 can be found by clicking here.

A Custom Bicycle (Part 1): When Excitement and Frustration Collide

I feel I must preface this post with a bit of a deep breath. I'm always happy to share my personal experiences with a bicycle, but this has been one I've tried to keep to myself for at least a small amount of time because I really needed to work through some things. I've had a number of requests to share more about the IndyFab and how it's gone thus far for me, so I suppose I'm caving a bit in that respect.  Believe me, it isn't that I haven't wanted to provide additional information, but sometimes time allows things to be resolved (although sometimes it doesn't), and what might feel like an enormous trouble initially can turn into something surprisingly small in the rear view mirror. I'd hate to start rambling about something early on, only to find that it was easily solved down the road. The time has come to share more, however, and with that said, I've been keeping notes along the way so that hopefully it will provide a realistic re-telling of what has happened. It's a long story and I don't want to overwhelm anyone, so it is probably going to be split up into multiple parts (apologies in advance to those looking for a full-dumping of the story here and now). But with that, here we go...

In July, I wrote about a custom bicycle that had been built by Independent Fabrication for me via a local bike shop. That post had more to do with the actual experience of the build than information about the bicycle, so I figured it would only be fair to write a bit more about the bicycle and the experience after a small bit of time has elapsed. My goal here is not to provide every single small detail since obtaining the bike, but to hit upon some of the points that have seemed important along the way, or that at least provide a bit more of the story.

Prior to receiving the new bike, I had been debating for about a year and a half as to whether or not it would be wise to move forward with a custom frame (and contemplating-from-a-distance the idea of a custom even longer). After lots of back and forth and chatting with potential builders (or representatives for builders), I opted to go with Independent Fabrication. I was also unsure as to whether I wanted to try out titanium or stick with the material I have known to suit me well: steel. Ultimately, after some convincing from the local bike shop owner and the realization that our budget would handle it a little easier, I opted to go with the material I've known to work in the past.

My first ride on the Crown Jewel was a distance of 40+ miles. I wanted to know how it would feel on something longer than a few miles of testing, so it made sense to try it out over a more substantial distance. When I returned home, I was a bit fatigued, but I was still on the high of having a new bicycle. I had mentioned to Sam that there were likely some adjustments that needed to be done, but I was still happy and overall I was pleased with the bike. It hadn't been my fastest average as far as speed, but I knew I was just testing things out, so I wasn't overly concerned. I'd completed a climb that I never enjoy, though it had been on the difficult side, and I was confident that things were going to be great.

I didn't ride the CJ for another eight days after that initial ride though, other than to quickly test parts that were being adjusted. I was riding, but I kept choosing my heavier, slower, steel bike (the Hillborne). At the time, I honestly couldn't exactly explain why I kept opting for the Hillborne instead of the new lighter bike. I was just enjoying the feel of the Hillborne and I wasn't ready to dive into dealing with the Crown Jewel because I knew there were some things that needed to be addressed. I assumed my choice to ride the Hillborne had something to do with the fact that when I'm on a lighter bike, I find it more challenging to just enjoy riding. It can feel like a race or a challenge to see what I can do and frankly, I was happy doing my slightly slower rides on the Hillborne. I wasn't prepared to commit to "working" on riding.

On that eighth day though, I decided I had to actually ride the CJ. I couldn't keep ignoring it as though it wasn't there. We'd spent a lot of money to get this bike ready for me to ride, and I'd lost a lot of my training season on bikes that were attempting to substitute for a lighter road bike. I set out with the intention of doing somewhere between 40-50 miles. I had a sort of plan in my head as to where I was going and told myself to just enjoy it. I ended up setting 3 personal time records and received a QOM (Queen of the Mountain) on Strava over a quick section on a local road. However, I only completed 22 miles of my planned ride. I'd averaged a pretty decent pace (for me), but I was beat and there was no way I was going to get in another 20 miles that day. I was also still having foot problems, hand pain, and I just couldn't seem to find a position to actually get any power on the bike.

I kept telling myself that it was me. I knew I hadn't done the time in the saddle I had during previous summers, and I just needed to make more adjustments. The thing is, when I'd received my custom bike, part of me truly just wanted everything to be right from the get-go. I didn't want to have to put in time and effort to get things to a place that worked. Why couldn't it just work right straight out of the gate? In reality, I could see that it was a starting point, but there was definitely some work in front of me to be completed. I kept reminding myself not to be a wimp about this and to suck it up and do what needed to be done. On the rides to follow, I would focus on what was happening so that I could attempt to explain the issues and find resolution.

A couple of days later, I got back out on the CJ. This time, there was a storm rolling in, so I knew I wouldn't get very far before I'd probably need to head home. While I don't mind getting rained on, I'm not a fan of lightning and thunder storms, so I knew it would have to be another short ride. I went to climb one of my least favorite hills, knowing that the return trip would be fast and downhill. I had one of my worst average times in quite some time on any bike, but I was starting to really understand the things that weren't quite working with this bike.

One of the things that really bothered me was that the front end of the bike felt twitchy and kind of scary. Every time I'd reach for a water bottle, I'd feel as though I was going to lose all control. My hands were absolutely killing me at the end of a ride and were numb beyond belief. I expect this somewhat when it comes to my "bad" hand, but even the good side was having a lot of trouble. I also noticed that I just felt heavy and slow and went back to blaming myself and my body for its failure to cooperate with what I wanted to get done. It's difficult not to get down on myself when there seems to be so many problems taking place. My feet were also continuing to go numb on every ride, but I'd told myself that this was likely due to back issues that have gone unresolved.

My next venture out was with a local friend. She was looking for someone to ride with and even though I was pretty beat up, I thought it would be nice to actually have someone to talk to for a bit. I warned her that I wouldn't make it very far and that it wouldn't be fast, but I was up for some time together. As we rode, we chatted about the Crown Jewel. She mentioned that it looked really great and appeared to fit me well. We also spoke about her potential desire to have a custom bike built. I told her I'd be happy to send her a link to some information, and our conversation continued on in this manner for the 25 miles we rode together. What she didn't realize is how much effort I was putting forth during our ride. I had shared that I was tired, but even when I'm not exactly up to par in regard to energy, I've often put out some of my fastest cycling times. That would not be the case on this particular ride. No matter how hard I struggled to go faster, I just couldn't make it happen. I apologized several times during the ride for being slow, while she simply smiled and said I was doing fine. I knew better though.

Routinely on these rides I had been experiencing somewhere between 1-2 miles average per hour slower (sometimes even more), and it didn't seem to matter if they were shorter or longer distances. Yet, I felt as though I was putting forth all I had in my tank. I returned to the self-bashing, insisting that my body was failing me. I try so hard not to go in this direction, but when my body appears to be the problem, I can't help but think it's the engine failing to keep up.

We had been having some conversations in our household regarding not having seen the specs for the CJ frame. During the process of having the frame built, I'd been told that I would receive a kind of cut sheet of what they planned to do before it would be done, but that never happened. I was a little miffed about this because I thought it was crucial to get this information myself before any welding or cutting actually began, but I let it go, assuming that others who are experts would know better than me. I also never received any kind of information about the geometry or measurements when I picked up the bike. At the time, I was so deliriously happy to have the bike that the thought hadn't struck me as important, but as time was moving forward, I really wanted to know what they had decided was going to work for me. Besides that, it's always good to have measurements for a bike for future use. I went by the bike shop and asked if they could get me the information. It wasn't readily available, but they said they'd work on e-mailing it to me.

I continued to ride on my own and occasionally with other cyclists, and at home we kept making adjustments to the bike. Sam was convinced that the stem was too short and replaced it with a 20mm longer version. It seems like a big jump, but it was what we had sitting around, so we thought it was worth a try. Sam moved my saddle too (which always seems to be a big no-no for me, but I was game for anything at this point). At various points we moved the stem up and down as well.

My riding was continuing to progress as far as distance is concerned, but it wasn't happening on the Crown Jewel. I was still finding myself choosing the Hillborne over the lighter bike and it was frustrating me. In reality, I was so tired of being in pain that the thought of going on another "test ride" to see what would happen on the CJ was not something I wanted to do. I was riding the CJ, but I did my best to keep the rides around 20 miles to not inflict any more pain than necessary.

Six days before I was supposed to participate in a local organized charity ride, I was really sick. However, I knew I needed to put in a longer ride on the Crown Jewel if I had any intention of riding it a few days later. I pulled myself together and managed a 53-mile ride that day on the CJ. I was so out of it on this ride that I hardly paid attention to anything that seemed wrong with the bike. I figured if I could make it through that distance while ill, there was no reason I couldn't do a similar distance when I felt better. Unfortunately, the sickness progressed and I actually experienced a worse version of being ill the day of the ride. I did complete the event, but it was slow and a bit painful at times. I chalked all of it up to being ill. The bike did better than I'd expected, which I suspected had to do with the change out to a longer stem, but it was hard for me to notice much of anything as I coughed and wheezed my way through most of the ride. The good that came from it, however, was that I truly believed this bike was getting to a point that was improving. If I could ride this distance on it, there must be hope.

One weekend morning, Sam wanted us to go on a ride together. I was feeling bad about the reality that the summer had consisted of a lot of pretty horrible rides together. Ninety percent of our rides had involved me whining about something that was hurting - and this had all started prior to even obtaining the IndyFab - but it hadn't seemed to improve after its arrival either. I have admitted several times to Sam that I've been exhausted by the time the weekend comes around, and the idea of going for any length of ride by weeks' end was low on my list of priorities.

On this particular day, we decided to go on a shorter ride of about 25 miles. As we got going, I knew things weren't great, but I wanted us to be able to ride together. Summer is short and I wanted to take advantage of the time we had with nicer weather. As we rode, I just couldn't stop the pain from coming. At about 8 miles in, I had to pull off to the side of the road. I mentioned to Sam that maybe he should just go on without me, and I'd meet up with him on the return trip since I didn't seem to be able to get any sort of momentum or speed and the pain shooting through my hands was becoming unbearable. He wanted to stick things out together though, so we continued on.

By the time we returned home, Sam was mad about the pain I was having. I had been frustrated and at times angry, but it was disturbing to see him so upset about something I was going through. He decided he was going to take the Crown Jewel for a ride and see if he could reach any conclusions from his perspective. It may seem a bit strange to do this, but we often ride each others' bikes for comparison purposes. Sam is acutely aware of my patterns of likes and dislikes, pain-free and painful positioning, and proper geometry for my bicycles. When something is off for me, he seems to be able to tell almost immediately when he rides, despite the fact that we prefer different setups. He returned from his test with a variety of thoughts.

First, he believed that we are capable of resolving anything. This gave me hope. There have been plenty of bikes in my past that seemed completely off and yet we were able to execute solutions to get a given bike to a point that was at least tolerable -- and this bike was made specifically for me, so there definitely should be solutions to everything taking place.

He also found that there were a variety of issues happening. He could feel the rattling sensation through his entire body from the road, and his hands - which are normally pain-free and strong - were aching (and they'd continue to hurt days after this short trial ride). The front end of the bike seemed twitchy to him, and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't seem to get any momentum going on the bike. He'd even taken the CJ up one of the short neighborhood hills he likes to race up and discovered that he just didn't have the momentum or ability to stand to power through to the top as he normally would. He's done that hill on much heavier bikes (and bettered his own records on them in fact), but there was just something "off" about the Crown Jewel.

Although there is more to come, we'll leave off here for now. Part two can be find by clicking here.

A custom steel build experience: Independent Fabrication Crown Jewel

At the beginning of the year, I started a more focused contemplation on a custom road bike. There has been much talk over the years, but as winter rolled in, I found myself believing it was time to look at this option more seriously. I've had several different types of road bikes over the last few years that were made of steel, carbon or aluminum. The problem with each road bike I have tried is that I never seemed to find quite the right fit. While I'm on the shorter side of the spectrum, I am not freakishly below the average female height at 5' 3.75", but my proportions and finicky/hyper-aware tendencies with minor adjustments, as well as a pre-cycling damaged hand/wrist seem to cause a lot of trouble with road bike fit. To top things off, I have a questionable knee and a completely jacked up lower back. I have come close to a good fit with the Trek Madone (from 2012 - it was modified in later models), but it still wasn't quite right and I have just never found a love for carbon frames.

For years, I have looked into various brands and possibilities for a custom road bike build, but it always seemed like such an extravagant or last resort kind of avenue to take. Surely, I could find something on a bike shop floor or we could build something from a stock frame that would work - or so I thought. After several attempts and many changes and adjustments to each bike I had, we finally started a serious look at having a custom frame built.

*Images from respective companies linked below

While my initial research took me through many, many possibilities, the main brands I was considering were Dean, Seven, Rodriguez, and Independent Fabrication, but I seriously pondered a titanium Eriksen as well. They each had their positive and negative aspects, but I wanted to remain open to as many possibilities without driving myself insane with too many options. I liked Dean because they are local and I've seen some very lovely frames, but I'd also heard some not-so-great stories about experiences with the company, so I wasn't sure I wanted to head down that road. The same was true for Rodriguez (not the local portion, but the rest of the reasoning). A lot of people have had success with Seven and there are a few local bike shop partners, but I also see many of these bikes for sale (both on CL and eBay), so I was a bit leery to go this route. My knowledge of IndyFab was minimal. I knew of them, have seen their bikes in person, but honestly didn't know anyone who'd bought a bike through them. All paths seemed to lead into the unknown, so I looked into all options to see what made the most sense.

As luck would have it, one of the local bike shops just happens to have recently partnered with IndyFab. We have known the manager for a bit now and although a custom build wasn't something he was used to doing, one of the owners has completed several builds with IndyFab and was ready to take on the challenge.

I was still very unsure of what I wanted in regard to material. Initially, I thought titanium might be the way to go, but not being able to ride a bike made of titanium before it was manufactured was a little unnerving. Some people seem to really love their ti bikes, while other do not (although I've yet to read anything negative about the titanium Crown Jewel). But, after some discussion and back and forth, the consensus was to go ahead with steel.

In order to get a proper fit, lots of measurements were taken. Everything from arm length to body height and just about every other part of the body one can imagine was measured (side note: I learned one of my arms is actually almost 1/2 an inch shorter than the other - go figure). All of the numbers were sent off to IndyFab and communication between their end and our local shop got underway. I was told I should have the bike by the time the Tour started, and that was pretty much where things were left.

Several weeks later, I went into the local shop for another fitting on their trainer. The folks at IndyFab wanted to be sure that (particularly due to my wrist issues) the measurements were right for the frame before they made their cuts and started welding. Honestly, this was my first moment of panic. When I got on the trainer, everything felt wrong. The bars were far too low, I felt too stretched, and I worried they had mistaken my measurements for someone else entirely because it just felt so off. I began wondering if it was a horrible idea to have a custom frame built, knowing that I was putting full trust in a company I would never speak to directly.

As luck would have it, one of the shops' pro fitters happened to be in house while I was on the adjustable trainer. I still wasn't feeling as though things were quite right in regard to fit, and he made a stop in to check on me. We went through an interesting experiment during which he had me sit up on the saddle without touching the handlebars and close my eyes while he made adjustments. Then, I'd open my eyes, get back in position and see how things felt. Ultimately, his help resulted in the bars being lower than I'd normally have them, but they were closer to my body to help keep a bend in my elbow. It was quite an interesting experience, actually, but my primary concern was that I would be comfortable in the end on the frame being built.

The one thing that kind of surprised me during this process is that the experience of a custom build was not exactly what I expected (though I don't know that I really knew what to expect either). Perhaps it would've been different if I'd chosen a local builder over one that is 2,000 miles away, or... maybe it would've been exactly the same. It's honestly hard to say as I don't have much of a frame of reference for custom builds. It was by no means a bad experience, but after the initial measurements, everything was kind of quiet. I'm not sure precisely what I expected. Photo updates of progress? An e-mail to let me know how things were coming along? I realize none of these things are required/necessary, but I suppose I thought there would be more chatter during the wait time (I even joked with a reader with whom I'd been e-mailing and who happens to live in NH that I should send him over to check on my build). Sure, I annoyed the local shop just about every week, but that's just part of the fun of dealing with me. :O) I don't think I was too much of a thorn in their side, and they haven't banned me from the shop yet (some gratis beer may have helped with that), so I think all is still well. Regardless of what was going on locally, I knew things were underway and I did my best to be patient as the frame was built.

After the tests on the trainer, I waited again. I had been told that I would get a call from the local shop when the frame had been shipped from IndyFab so that I could bring my parts into the shop (We had stripped the parts off of my former road bike for the new build). Then, when the frame arrived, they would build up the bike and have me come in to take it for a test. I waited (somewhat patiently) for a call. Then, we were up in Leadville as Sam prepared to participate in the Silver Rush 50 and ran into one of the bike shop employees who was also doing the race. We had stopped in a coffee shop, as had she, and as it turns out she actually sees all of the shipments coming into the shop. She made a passing comment about my frame arriving any day (so much for a phone call), and I was ecstatic to hear the news. Less than a week later, the whole bike would be in my hot little hands.

I was a little shocked at the brightness/intensity of the paint color initially (which is not to say that this color is obnoxiously bright, but simply more so than I'd anticipated), but it grew on me quickly. Having only viewed the color swatch on the computer screen, it seemed a slightly more muted/lighter color (which is a good lesson to always get a paint swatch before saying yes to a color viewed online - as a painter myself, I should definitely know better). It is a beautiful paint job though and while I didn't dislike the color, it was simply a bit different from what I'd imagined would arrive. The color also seems to change in appearance based on lighting, which is true of most things in life. I don't know that the purple bar tape was necessarily the route to go, but it is an easy switch at a later time, and I think there is enough difference in the two hues to not create too much clash for the time being.

From the start of "real" information being shared to the date I picked up the bike, the total wait time was about 3 months. Really, a speck in time, especially for a custom ride. Of course, there are many factors that played into this, and in all reality, it could've taken much, much longer. I didn't want any fancy paint jobs (with fades, multiple colors, or special blocking - which is where a lot of time can be spent), so that helped speed things along. I didn't request lugs or anything that would require excess amounts of time either. What I did want is a well-constructed frame that would withstand the tests of time. I believed that simplicity would be my friend in this regard.

I will refrain from much commentary about the bike itself until I have had more time to ride it (it's difficult not to say anything, but I really do want to give it time before throwing out a lot of thoughts), but I will say that right after receiving the Crown Jewel, I took it for a nice test run of just over 40 miles, up some decent climbs, down some substantial descents, out on some flats, and didn't notice anything odd about the bike or the fit. In fact, I found that I had to pay attention to how I was feeling most of the time because I seemed pretty comfortable. That is good news in itself. We will see how the Crown Jewel does over the coming weeks and months, but I am hopeful that this was the right decision.

At this point, if I had it to do over again, I would, even knowing the price involved. The most difficult cost was giving up my most-comfortable-to-that-point road bike in order to fund the start of this frame/fork, which gave me a bit of anxiety during the wait time (and was a bit challenging in the midst of spring/summer training), but I think it was well worth it (or at least I hope). I think for anyone who has difficulty with fit, having the opportunity to build a custom bike is a great option, and I think IndyFab did a beautiful job.

Additionally, I can see very easily how this could become addictive. Who wouldn't want every bicycle s/he rides to be made specifically for him/her, or to his/her specifications? Of course... funding that sort of thing is a completely different story. Maybe when the money tree finally starts to grow? In the meantime, I am glad I waited to do this build because I am far more aware of what I need and want in a road bike. I'm not sure that would've been the case a few years ago. But... time will tell what the outcome will be with this bike. I went into it knowing full well that it could just as easily end up in disappointment or as a huge waste of money. Thus far, that doesn't seem to be the case, so I am very grateful.

Have you been through a custom bike build? What was the outcome? If you haven't done a custom, have you considered it? Who would you select to build your frame if you could choose from any custom bicycle artisans/companies?