Anonymous Communist

Normally, I’m the one looking for bikes. This one found me.

Years ago in college, I had a crappy Web page (built by my non-code-knowing ass with Adobe PageMill) that had pictures of my two Schwinns and my friends’ bikes. Apparently, a gentleman who lived in southern Illinois and had a bike to unload found that Web page, unbeknownst to me.

One day, I get a call from my mom, who tells me some guy who lives in West Frankfort or some such town called my parents’ house in Springfield trying to contact me about a bike. I got his number and proceeded to play phone tag for a couple weeks until I finally got a hold of him.

He told me how he had this tandem and was looking to get rid of it. He said he was going through a divorce, and that the sight of a bicycle built for two was too painful seeing how his riding partner was leaving him and all. He knew of my appreciation for old Schwinns from my Web page and asked if I was interested.

I could barely restrain my enthusiasm in answering “yes.” But because I neither had a truck nor knew anyone who did, picking it up presented a problem. Don’t worry about it, he said, offering to come to Carbondale to conduct the transaction.

So I told him to meet me at Travel Service when my shift ended at 4 p.m., and $80 later this sucka was mine. I remember feeling a little silly riding a tandem by myself, but that was the only was I was getting it home, which at the time was a tiny two-room apartment. This enormous bicycle took up half the space in my kitchen.

As far as I can tell, everything on this bike is original, including the tires, which are cracked with age but still hold air somewhat. It still has the teardrop rear reflector with the silk-screened “S” intact. The paint is in great shape (for a 43-year-old bike, that is) with only a few noticeable scratches, and the decals and screens are excellent as well, especially on the chainguard:

Unfortunately, the chrome is not in such great shape. Overall, it’s mostly dull with only a few shiny spots, and rust has set in in a few places. The front wheel was in kind of bad shape; it took extra elbow grease to clean it up. But I guess that’s what years of disuse will do.

The Twinn hasn’t been ridden since probably 1999 or so. Back then, Mrs. Communist and I lived on Walnut Street, in between Lawrence and Canedy. Sitting on the back, she understandably gets kind of nervous not being able to engage her instinct to steer, and riding a bike on a busy street like Walnut was not something she wanted to do more than once.

But now that we live in a quieter area and the kids are old enough to ride bikes, maybe the old Twinn can start getting some use.

With gas prices the way they are (and which stand to get worse), this oldie but goodie has become an essential mode of transportation. If my destination/s is within a few miles and what I am fetching/delivering can fit in a backpack, I’m on the bicycle.

I’m lucky enough to live in an area with many essential services (grocery, burgers, beer, other retail, etc.) within reasonable biking distance. I can then keep my gasoline expenditure at $20 a week. Plus, riding bikes in the name of saving gas is a great excuse to get riding. Signing up with Dave Heinzel’s nifty bike tool provides extra motivation, too.

Pictured above is my high-speed, long-distance bike (as opposed to the low-speed, short-distance model), a 1997 Specialized Stumpjumper. It was my first big purchase after graduating college in 1998. One fine morning that June, I took Eric, my bicycle guru and homeboy, with me to R&M Cyclery. Having ridden a Hardrock the previous several years, I was ready to upgrade. I found the above bike at a substantial discount because it was the previous year’s model (I got the Hardrock the same way after high school matriculation in 1993).

The only problem was that the bike came with clipless pedals. I wasn’t keen on the idea of having my shoes bolted into the pedals, so Eric offered to buy me a pair of regular toe-clip pedals if I’d give him the clipless jobs. I heartily agreed, and the gentleman at R&M made the switch for us.

The bike has served me well in the ensuing decade, providing exercise and entertainment on the road as well as on dirt. The road tires are a new addition to reduce rolling resistance during what I hope will be many trips in the fresh air. I still have the fat knobbies for when I get the urge to crash into trees. If anyone would like to join me, I’m partial to Lewis Memorial Acres off Koke Mill Road and the trails off whatever the paint-test road is called along the extreme southwestern arm of Lake Springfield.

Having posted this, I shall now commence a quick ride before The Boy comes home from school. Wave if you see me.

After more than a decade of searching, in May I finally got myself a grown-up Schwinn.

It took that long basically because I was cheap, hoping that serendipity would strike a third time and drop another bike in my lap. It didn’t quite work out that way.

I was thus forced to shop “retail,” which for old Schwinns means eBay. Time and time again for several years, every bike I bid on I was outbid for. Sometimes it was for far more than I was willing to pay; other times I was outbid by some jerk at the last second for just a few bucks more than my last bid. I absolutely hate that, and I curse everyone who employs such tactics.

But I managed to luck out on this one, actually getting it for less than my max bid. Ha-ha, suckers!

My excitement from the enormous box arriving quickly turned to concern when the reality of the task ahead of me set in:

I actually had to put this bitch together. You’re familiar with the phrase “mechanically inclined”? Well, I’m mechanically straight. Thankfully, my friend Eric is quite handy with the tools and was within reach via cell phone, reassuring me that the task was not too tough.

Eventually, I got it together, and it hasn’t fallen apart yet. Knock-knock.

For a 40-year-old bike, it rides nice and smooth, and thanks to the hub, sometimes I ride slow and sometimes I ride quick. The yellow-band kickback hub is a two-speed “underdrive” model, and with a quick “kick back” with the pedals, it shifts to the lower gear to facilitate climbing. Another kick back, and you’re back in the cruising gear.

Besides the hub, this bike has lots of other fun accessories. I’ve yet to test out the front and rear racks, just because I prefer carrying a backpack on my erranding. The horn tank on the front of the bike is especially sharp:

The little button on the tank is supposed to be the bike’s horn. It doesn’t work, though, and as I mentioned above, I’m a little hesitant to open the tank to try to fix it. I’m hoping that all it needs is a battery, which is what the front headlight is missing, too. And given my propensity for nighttime beer runs, I ought to look into that.

Maybe I could get some rechargeables and then get one of these contraptions to juice the batteries back up during the day.

This is Mrs. Communist’s ride. I got it for her back in about July 1999, when this picture was taken. Miles was about 7 months old then.

The first bike I got for her was a 1975 Fair Lady, which she said she wouldn’t be caught dead riding, so I got her a more respectable Hollywood. Which I figured was appropriate, given her love of People magazine and “Entertainment Tonight.”

As I waited for the bike to be delivered, I’d managed to find a pair of new old-stock Schwinn whitewall tires on eBay, so I got those, too. Whitewalls are so much more fancy-looking.

Unfortunately, though, the next accessory sent the Hollywood’s fancy quotient through the floor (Schwinn nerds, please avert your eyes):

I had no choice, really. I wasn’t about to put that ghastly monstrosity on my mountain bike. That, and the wife told me to do it, so I, you know… did it. Turns out that bike rides are a great way to get kids to fall asleep. I guess the joke’s on me.

Anyway, this bike is further proof that while girls’ bikes aren’t as “collectible” as boys’ bikes, they tend to be in better shape. Even more than 40 years after its manufacture, the chrome on this bitch still shines like crazy, especially on the rims. And the paint, aside from a few nicks here and there, is in good shape, save for some pants-leg wear on the chainguard:

This bike is positively radiant when compared to my Sting-Ray, which is more than a decade younger than the Hollywood. Thanks, ladies, for taking good care of your stuff.

As always, see Flickr for more photos.

I just happened to luck into this bike.

Back in 1996, I was on summer vacation after my first junior year of college. My girlfriend (who’s now Mrs. Communist; poor girl) and I were in Topeka, Kan., for her grandfather’s 80th birthday.

When we got into town, we went to her Aunt Jean’s house. As this was the first time I was meeting her extended family, I was her little nervous shadow.

For whatever reason, one that doesn’t come to me, we went outside through the garage, and there they were. Two bikes hanging up just inside the garage door, to the right as you look out. I grabbed the arm of the Significant Other Communist and was like, “Dude, bikes.” Or something like that; she knew what I was talking about. I told her I had to have them. She told me that I’d have to go ask Aunt Jean.

Normally, I’m extremely reserved around people I’ve just met, but I was determined to get these bikes. I inquire to Aunt Jean, and she says the bikes belong to her son, J.W. At this point, I’m beginning to think this all an elaborate ruse for me to meet the family, but I soldier on.

I let J.W. know of my interest in his bikes. He looks at me sideways but eagerly accepts my $50 check for the two bikes. Success!

It was obvious that those bikes had been hanging up in the garage for a while, as evidenced by the picture I took mere minutes after I signed the check.

So it needed some work. When I got back to Carbondale, I got busy cleaning it up but leaving it as original as possible. That summer semester, I was getting my gym requirements out of the way with golf and badminton (Best. Summer. Ever), so I had plenty of time to devote to what was important.

I tried to salvage the remaining tire, but it was too far gone. Six-inch splits in the sidewall are hard to repair, so I went to the bike store to get a cheapie tire to replace the original knobby. For the front, I put on the front wheel-tire combo from my Aztlan Cruiser just so I could get the bike rolling again.

Eventually, I managed to secure a Schwinn front wheel and Schwinn Westwind tire for about $30 from the dearly departed Schwinn Collectornet forum on the Schwinn Web site.

From that point, if I needed to get somewhere (i.e, a party or a bar) and wasn’t in a hurry (i.e., late for class or running various errands on my street-converted mountain bike), I was on the blue Sting-Ray. My dear friend Eric has a purple 1965 Sting-Ray Deluxe, and he and I would go on rides together, in various states of intoxication, all over town, oftentimes joined by our friend Ben, who had a green Sting-Ray. Whether to a party or to a bar, or just to go riding and show off, most anywhere we went we were on our Rays.

While I don’t live nearly as exciting a life now as I did in college, I still enjoy tooling around on the Ray every now and then. If I’m returning a video or grabbing some beer at the Tuck, I’ll use the Ray if it’s nice out.

If you’re out on the west side and you see a devastatingly handsome dude on a bike like this, it’s me. Stop and introduce yourself; I’m generous with the autograph.

One thing you could have read about had I not completely destroyed the first incarnation of this Web log was my longtime but sporadic obsession with postwar Schwinn bicycles.

Long story short: I have a few of those bikes, but for various I had to put the hobby away for several years. At the St. Patrick’s Day parade, though, I just happened to see people riding some of theirs, and that sort of put the ants back in my pants regarding my own bikes.

So the first thing I decided to do (after obsessively scouring eBay, of course) was to put a new tire on my blue 1978 Sting-Ray. Well, not exactly “new,” but different, at least.

When I ran across my first couple of bikes back in 1996, the blue Ray needed some work. Back then, I was in college and couldn’t afford to throw down for a “correct” tire, so I just threw a generic piece of rubber on there to get the bike on the road.

Thanks to the magic of eBay, though, I found a used Schwinn tire a few years ago but never got around to mounting it. Until yesterday.

While it’s not likely the “correct” tire (I think in 1978, Sting-Rays shipped with 20×2.125 knobbys), it is a genuine Schwinn tire. Plus it makes the bike look so much cooler, which is the most important thing.