BMX Basics

One of the things that saddened me about my old Bicycles Today and BMX Today writing gigs was the fact that I got very little mail from my readers. You'd think that, since the NBL magazines go out to more than 50,000 readers, and since my column was always the second-most-read feature in the magazine, (this was according to the reader surveys; the most-read feature was, of course, the monthly points) I would have gotten a lot of mail praising or at least criticizing me, but alas, such was not the case. I averaged just over two letters a month, and that counts the ones Hutch and GT sent threatening to pull their ads from Bicycles Today after the first installment of my "Product Reviews" was published.

I liked getting mail because a) it fed my ego, b) it fed my ego, and c) it let me know what I was doing wrong, or right, with my writing. Unfortunately, most young riders aren't the letter-writing type, so I had to rely on the conversations I had with them at the track, rather than their feedback letters (or lack thereof).

Things changed when I started publishing my columns on the World Wide Web in May of 1997. I went from two letters per month to two letters and fifty e-mails per month. Obviously, I read them all, and I respond to them all, with the sole and sad exception of the twenty or so that I lost when my iMac ate its hard drive two months ago. And, I've tried to listen and make the appropriate changes. You told me that some of the columns were too long, so I've tried to shorten them, mostly without success... I learned from your letters than most of my readers are pretty bright folks and can understand nearly anything, from physics to pegs, as long as I do my job and explain it correctly.

I has been enormously helpful to hear from my readers more than twice a month. However, not all of the emails I get nowadays (and I get about 200-300 per month now from all of you) relate to a specific column. Some readers want some advice about something not covered in a column. Others want to share their racing experiences with me. I really enjoy chatting with riders, either in person or via email, so these letters are a lot of fun for me to read and respond to.

The largest group of non-column-related mail I get concerns equipment choice. There's a staggering amount of stuff out there for us to buy, and unfortunately a lot of it is not worth buying. It's nearly impossible not to be confused by the choices presented to the modern racer. Aluminum or Cr-mo? Cassette or traditional freewheel? V-brakes or cantilevers? Clips, cages, or platforms? Even assuming you can decide on all of the above, you still have to decide between a bewildering array of products. Why do some handlebars cost four times as much as others? Can I use SPD cleats with Ritchey pedals, and are the Nashbar "Ritchey copies" really made in the same factory as the originals? Should I buy Spin wheels or Nuke Proofs with Araya Super 7X rims?

Believe it or not, I asked very similar questions when I started riding. Gyro or Rotor? Tuffs, Peregrines, or Z-Mags? Straight seatback or (giggle) laid-back? It wasn't easy finding answers to these questions. Most of the time I had to buy the stuff and see for myself. Which reminds me of a story... I'll make it short. I promise.

Once upon a time, I was a 15 Novice racing the Ohio State Series. I had a Patterson Pro with Profiles and original DX pedals. I was massively proud of everything on my bike, with the exception of the wheels. My wheels were the same wheels I'd started racing on - black Ukai rims with Suzue unsealed hubs - and they were tired. No amount of hammering, freezing (don't ask) or spoke-turning could change the fact that these wheels were two and a half miserable years old. There was a full 1/3-inch of wobble in the front wheel, and more than that in the back. They hadn't really been "round" since I'd accidentally ridden into a storm gutter the previous season. You get the point. These wheels were junk.

Since they were the only wheels I had, however, I was forced to make the best of them. I spent a lot of time in the basement with these poor things. I hand-polished the bearings. I used a pipe wrench to align the flanges. I greased every spoke thread individually. I used steel wool to take the irregularity out of the braking surface, and so on. I could have bought new wheels, but that would have meant not racing for a month or two, and I preferred racing on my old wheels to posing on new ones.

Until, that is, Mom told me I could have my birthday present two months early - right in the middle of the State Series! She told me this at six o' clock on a Sunday afternoon. By nine o' clock, I called the owner of my local bike shop at home, had convinced him to meet me at the store, and had talked Mom into spending more than she'd originally budgeted - for a new set of Pro Class III wheels. I could have had two pairs of Ukai/Suzue wheels for that money, but that wouldn't have allowed me to lord it over my pals. The Pro Class IIIs would.

Maybe you've never seen Pro Class IIIs. Allow me to describe them. They were hard-anodized in a menacing grey. The rims were drilled to save weight and came with a rim strip, visible through the holes, anodized in blue and red. The spokes were stainless steel. The hubs were polished and sealed. In 1987, they were the equivalent of Spins or Heds - light, fast, and expensive. I spent the following week bragging about my wheels and making fun of my friends who were not fortunate enough to own Pro Class IIIs. I drew pictures of them in study hall. I rode five hours a night, and posed in front of the UDF for two more. I predicted that I would utterly slay my competition in the upcoming weekend's state race.

You can guess what happened. Enthused by the power of my new wheels, I tried to lay it down over a big set of doubles. I didn't have enough speed to pull it. I hit my rear Pro Class III on the frontside of the second hump, which was much steeper and taller than what we generally see today. I broke the wheel. I walked out to Mom's truck and got my old wheels out. I put them on. I suppressed the urge to cry. I rode those old wheels for another season. End of story.

Is there a moral to this story? You could say that the moral is, "Don't spend big on something that breaks easily", and you would be partially correct. You could say, "Don't be fooled into thinking that a better bike can make you a better rider," and you would be on the right track. I would say that the ultimate moral is,"BMX is more important than a BMX bike."

It's easy to become obsessed with your bike. Looking through the ads and dreaming about expensive parts is one of our sport's more subtle and unreported pleasures. And there's nothing like riding down the street on the neighborhood's, or the track's, nicest bike. I will confess to having carefully coordinated my cruiser so everything on it is either chrome or red, and there are times when I'm almost hypnotized watching my Flight 2s spin during a street ride.

In the long run, however, BMX bikes are less satisfying than BMX itself. Your bike is a tool. It's a single-purpose machine, and that purpose is riding. If you could spend $150 on a new set of wheels or five state races, wouldn't you really be better off racing on old wheels than posing on new ones?

BMX, when done enthusiastically, is awfully tough on bikes. Think twice before you scrimp and save to buy some exotic part. A $180 frame is usually as good as a $400 one, and it leaves you $220. $100 wheels are usually sturdier than $450 ones, and you can replace them three more times for the same total cost. Surely nobody believes that one pair of Spins will last four times as long as Suzue sealed hubs and Araya rims... right? You'll save eight ounces with the Spins, but wouldn't you rather have the extra cash instead of a meaningless weight advantage?

The saddest letters I get are the ones from readers who are taking a season off to save for the bike they "really want." Don't do it. You can't get that time back once it's gone. Go to the races. My guess is that you will be faster with an old bike and a season of experience than you would be with a new bike and a season of posing.

I don't want to ruin the joy riders take in getting a new bike. I personally can't wait to take delivery of a new John Purse signature cruiser, (free Redline plug) but given the choice between racing this winter on my "old" bike or hanging around waiting for a new one, I'll take the racing. You will remember your rides long after the bike is sold and gone.

This is not to say that I will not answer questions of the "are-carbon-fiber-cranks-better-than-titanium-ones" variety. I absolutely will. After all, it's the best of all possible worlds to race as much as you want to on the best bike you can afford. My only advice - no, plea - to you, dear reader, is this: Invest in yourself first and your bike second. Don't find out too late that you have too much bike, and too little time.