A lengthy or extravagant speech or argument usually intended to persuade.

To talk or say (something) at length or extravagantly.

What you got to say??? Send YOUR spiel to: riderx@singlespeedoutlaw.com

Rubber Side Down

Born To Single Speed by Rob Reed

Like most, my passion for riding singlespeeds can be traced back to my earliest recollections of riding a bicycle. Back where it all began. For me it was in a suburban Connecticut neighborhood, where the average summer humidity level matched the percentage of hilly terrain-lots. To ride anywhere was to climb-and, in turn, descend. In fact, unlike many who learned to ride with their father holding the seat, I soloed it on the hill in front of my house on a borrowed, sixteen-inch girl's bike with solid tires and a single gear. The memory is as vivid as the day I lost my virginity (technically, it was to the same girl who lent me the bike, but it didn't really count at that age). Sadly yet triumphantly, on that day, my bigwheel, also a singlespeed, was retired. I'd crossed the two-wheeled threshold.

I then crossed paths with many-a-bike, there in the dawn of my cycling daze. A hand-me-down, three-speed Schwinn with a wooden-handled, top-tube-mounted shifter-very hip, but not really me. Then a brand-new orange Huffy that I rode to a third-place finish in a local bike rodeo and on which I became addicted to taking air. As BMX grew in popularity, along with 80s music and the Regan era, I found myself riding a blue, two-speed Huffy BMX bike known as the "Z2". Everything-the frame, saddle, grips, tires, pads-was blue. It had a front derailleur, two chainrings, and some type of chain tensioner. I remember shopping for it with my father. It came down to this and a Murray. We picked the Huffy because, surprisingly, it was lighter. The Z2 became a Z1 within months of its first ride, and my dad resorted to welding the stem and bar together because they'd stripped-indeed, an oxy-acetylene torch is what Vice Grips aspire to.

As BMX approached a heyday in the mid-80s, tracks were springing up like California strip malls. In Connecticut alone there were six, each operating under National Bicycle League (NBL) sanctioning, and one was mere miles from my house. For reasons of personal safety, my parents graduated me from high-tensile steel to cromoly main tubes with a Raleigh. It had a quick-change chainring and beefy double-goose neck-sure signs of a decent bike-but it wasn't race worthy. Soon thereafter, I convinced them to kick down for an entry-level Hutch, and I was off to the races.

Though I rode everywhere and could pull all sorts of jumps-cross-ups, kick-outs, and faux tabletops-the neighborhood hadn't prepared me for BMX on a track racing side-by-side with seven other kids. I sucked pretty bad, even for the beginner class. Still, I loved it and yet knew that my dad wasn't about to keep shelling out cash so I could finish last.

As the next season (summer) approached, dad and I had a little sit down. Sensing that I was passionate about biking and that there was a chance I could be good at it, he made a deal: if I would actually train for BMX racing, he'd continue to support me and spring for a race-level bike. After striking that deal, we custom-ordered a new 18-pound Hutch. Training began.

There was another looooong hill-a school parking lot, actually-that wasn't far from my house. Since BMX boils down to a sprint, my regiment was to start at the bottom and sprint to the top. It hurt and it worked. The summer before my freshman year in high school, I raced six times a week-twice on Saturdays and under the lights mid-week. I won a bunch of races in the sport-equivalent novice class, getting bumped up to expert before the state finals. Winning may not be everything, but it certainly made my summer-the last one of my "official" childhood, as it would seem, for high school and chicks and cars would rule my universe for the next four years.

So it's no mystery to me why I love singlespeeding. On climbs it reminds me of toiling in that parking lot. On descents it feels like rocketing down the start hill. And over rolling singletrack, it feels like a track's whoops and rhythm sections. Plus, it's a lot easier to tweak those faux tabletops.

Spin The Crank

Get Off the Trail by Joe Whitehair

Get Off the Trail! Harsh words? Not really, more like a sensible warning. I feel like yelling this quite often, especially in the summer when the trails see the most use. Most people who know me would be surprised. After all, I like to play the mountain bike embassador, showing people the local trails, inviting new riders out to experience this sport which I can't get enough of, organizing rides. Am I being a hypocrit, bringing riders to the trail while wanting others to get off? No, I don't want less riders out there doing what I love to do. I want the trail open to everyone with two wheels. What I want is you or anyone else to get off of the trail when you aren't pedaling.

Ever round the corner only to see a half dozen riders, crotch sitting on the top tube, bullshitting in the middle of the trail? At least one of them is bound to have their back to you. You shout out a warning "Rider Up" or "Up ahead". Then, one of two things happens. First option, they just sit there, no effort made to move, no avenues for you to go around without bushwhacking and widening the trail, all the while still telling tales of the "epic" 3 hour, 5 mile ride they skinned their shin on last summer. "It was rad man!". Or, option two takes place where all of the riders act like deer in the headlights until the last possible moment. Then, when you have committed to a line, they all scramble. First they head right for the line you are going to take. Then, as soon as you take corrective action to avoid plowing these fools over, they change direction and head for your new avenue. Ever see squirrels run more than half way across the street, only to turn around and head all the way back to the other side?

Another favorite is the middle of the trail repair. Usually a flat tire, bike turned upside down perfectly centered in the middle of the trail. Wheel and tire off, laying on the side blocking more dirt. Couple of riding buddies milling around, all on the trail of course. This has the potential for being even worse than the above knitting club situation. Tools strewn about, bike in pieces lying about. Good luck removing this in time for any trail riders who would like to maintain their pace and keep the ride rolling. Extra bonehead points if you pull this in the middle of an uphill climb, especially a technical one.

I've decided these culprits fit into two categories. The blissfully ignorant, who are just oblivious to what they are doing. Maybe because they are having such a good time out on the trail, nothing else is on their radar screen, blocked by an endorphin high. Or perhaps they are worn down, nearing the bonk phase, nothing but survival matters, and that means stopping right here, right now. The other type are the self centered morons. You know the ones, sitting in a restaurant, yapping on their cell phones, disturbing everyone else. Hey, I'm too important to worry about anyone else. These are the ones who need to be run over at high speed, crushing that high dollar, 24 spoke radially laced wheel.

Go out, ride, have fun. Just remember other people are trying to do the same thing.

Sound Off

This issue's question: Has single speeding become mainstream?

Mouth off your opinion at: riderx@singlespeedoutlaw.com

Last issue's question was: Single speeds and racing. If they offer an SS class, should you enter it or just race in your normal class against the gearies? Should there even be SS classes? And, if there aren't SS classes, should you be lobbying the promoters to create an SS class?

Here's what you had to say:

• No SS classes. Start creating classes and it'll get serious. Perhaps a little side note saying who is riding a single speed on the entry form, just to rub gearies (new word?) faces in it.

  Let's just turn up to races (if we want), ride around for a bit, drink some beer and then go home.
  -Jon Wyatt

• Hmmm... good topic. Whence I found out about single speeds in, um, lemme see, 1998, there were no others in the area that I knew of. Me and a couple friends converted our old MTBs and we were off. I'd see one or two here and there on local rides and got the idea that there may be an interest in having SS races at our clubs annual MTB race. The first year of Dragon's Bite in 1999, I advertised it fairly heavily and despite the newness of SSing, we had about 19 single speeders. Now, I had known about the more underground affairs for SSers where you need to drink X numbers of beers before you're allowed to race, but I had managed to attract all these SS manufacturers to hand over awesome goodies, like SS hubs, and even got an SS frame and bike from Voodoo. So, I ran it as a real race with big prizes and all that thinking that would attract more folks. The following year, I tried to replicate the event running it as a separate race again at our Fall MTB race, but had very low turnout. Well, I wasn't daunted and Phil Wood still wanted to give us prizes, so last Spring, the third incarnation was held and it was the most successful yet, having 2 classes and 27 riders from all over the area, as far away as Delaware and Ohio. It was pretty cool. So, yes, I like to see any event that brings SSers together. There are some really strong SS riders. Some do insane 24 hour or 100 mile races, others, like myself, don't race them very much, but frequently ride them at local club rides.

  Anyways, I'm all for SS events. Underground or more formal races. Ride/race your SS as much as you want, but I don't think there is any need to beg promoters to have SS classes. Just have fun. For those folks that are into racing, it doesn't matter what you're on. An SS can be just as fast if not faster. I have yet to race head-to-head against the gearies, but if I did, I think I'd do about the same as if I was geared.
  -Vince Amodeo

• I'd never enter a s/s race,,,, that’s like admitting some weakness,,, Gearie-ass is your trophy, go forth and kick it.
  -JJ Smith

• I like to race with the regular riders (in my case it would be the sport class) but prefer to be scored separately. So I guess I'm leaning towards a SS class. The one series of races that I attended this year that was put on by a for profit promoter did have a SS class. They raced the SSers with the experts. So we weren't racing against the people who were in our fitness level. This same promoter puts on a 24hr race and in that one, we raced SS against gears .... no special class for us. When I was helping put on some local races, we would send the SSers out with the sport class wave and score them separately. When it gets down to it, I like racing my SS against riders who are in my range of fitness/skill (sport class). If the promoter could score us separately but include our times, we could see how we did against geared riders and still be racing our SS buddies. I guess this is why I tend to like the smaller "local" races rather than the bigger ones. There's less emphasis on "racing" and more on having fun in a competitive environment.
  -Kevin Axt

• So far this year, I've raced all but one race on either the rigid Kona or the front suspended Bontrager. I've kind of chosen based on the abuse lever vs. my overall fitness level. Have done pretty well in most.

  The only real bitch was that I was doing really well, in fact, passed Mr. Austin only to flat. Then, I passed almost everyone again, only to flat again. At that point, I threw in the towel and walked while picking up trail trash. The promoter offered to give me a prize for picking up trash and losing my gloves in the process.

  Anyway, both (suspension and non) have merit. Around here the courses get so abusive that it just wears you completely down to the point of being unsafe is you're not careful. I do find that after having solely ridden my SS for many weeks or months, having gears is almost a hindrance when racing. Wacky!

  People have come to expect me to show up on the SS. Funny thing most of us have experienced is passing someone and they suddenly realize that you have no gears. They either cheer you on or become completely demoralized. Not sure why, but I love that.
  -Michael Cleveland