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  • Titanium – The ‘all purpose’ wonder material?

    Steel is real! That’s been my mantra for a long time. It still is, really. Interestingly, I didn’t grow up during the time when steel bikes were common place. Being of a younger generation, my childhood bikes were shaped by the waves of cheap imported aluminium, after the industry finally dialed in the production. Early aluminium experimentation was aimed at manufacturing racy, lightweight frames and this meant a lot of spontaneous failures and issues with longevity. Overengineering and advancement in heat treatment made aluminium a much more viable alternative to steel, by increasing the stress cycles the frame is able to withstand and making it less prone to dents and dings, this development alongside the promise of cheap manufacturing, was a crucial part of the early 2000’s aluminium boom. Alu is a pretty complete package when you think about it – cheap to work with, corrosion resistant, lightweight and durable. So, here I am making the case for aluminium, in a blog post about Titanium, which I started out by saying ‘steel is real’. Confused? I don’t blame you, welcome to my brain.

    Even though my childhood and teen years were predominantly spent on aluminium bikes, I only own one aluminium bike nowadays. I shifted to steel upon returning to the world of cycling after a long hiatus. The reason was quite simple, I wanted to try something else and I’d always been curious about the supposed superior ride quality of steel. I also do think steel frames look better, with their skinny tubes and sometimes ornate lugged swagger. My foray into steel began with a ‘bog standard’ 4130 tubed Specialized from the late 90’s, but I have since expanded my fleet and now own a wide array of steel frames. My favourites being my Surly Karate Monkey, Cross Check and 1×1. Whether or not the ride quality is noticeably different from aluminium I couldn’t tell you, I’d say that my steel frames feel more compliant. They’re not as stiff feeling as my Zaskar, which is the only aluminium framed bike I own these days. But it probably is more down to wheel and tyre choice than anything else. So, what is it specifically that makes steel so real to me? I think it has to do with longevity. As alluded to by the title of this post, I value ‘all purpose’ bikes a lot, I like the utilitarian side of cycling. I want a bike to be able to withstand a bit of everything and I want my bike to be a lasting piece of equipment – I hope for all my bikes to outlast me. This is where steel comes to shine. While aluminum will eventually fail after a finite number of stress cycles, a steel frame can endure an almost infinite number of cycles, as long as the stresses remain below its fatigue limit. And should you be so unlucky and have a steel frame fail on you, there’s the option of repairing it. Because steel, unlike aluminium, does not require specialist welding setups or post-welding heat treatment. This is something that matters to me, because I see my bikes as a lifetime investment and though it may seem neurotic, I rest assured knowing that should one of my beloved bikes fail, I could take it to someone and have it mended. I could do that with an aluminum frame, but with the heat treatment it’d end up a very costly affair and in reality the repair wouldn’t be as strong as it would with steel. Aluminum is far more delicate to work with and is more sensitive to heat than steel. The heat from welding can significantly weaken aluminum in the heat-affected zone (HAZ), softening the metal and disrupting its microstructure. In contrast, steel is more resilient to heat, and its HAZ typically retains much of its original strength once repaired. So, there’s really no negatives to steel, right? No, don’t do it! Don’t say it! Not the R word….

    Sadly the one reality a steel frame owner has to come to terms with is rust. This is particularly an issue for those of us that live in northern maritime climates. I am from Denmark, a country which is surrounded by the roaring North Sea and the Baltic, so there’s little respite from the salty air. Even if I could escape the more coastal regions, I’d be exposing my bikes to salty sludge all through winter as the frost and ice sets in. And that remains my main gripe with using steel for an all purpose, all weather bike; corrosion resistance. A solid paintjob and well sealed components go a long way in protecting a steel frame, of course, but if you really use the bike year round, rust is pretty much inevitable. I treat my frames internally with CorrosionX once a year and do touch ups of surface rust as it appears, which gives me peace of mind, but it is a lot of extra faff. So, if not aluminium or steel – is there anything out there that’s better suited for the task of proper utilitarian cycling?

    That’s when I realised that for quite a few years, unbeknownst to me, I’ve been internalising propaganda from a very vocal crowd. In almost every forum post about ‘which material is the best‘ and ‘oh no my steel frame is rusting what to do‘, there’ll be a few advocates for Big Ti. ‘This would never have happened if it was Titanium‘. I shrugged it off for a long time, admittedly because of the prices. A new off the shelf titanium frame is not exactly within my budget, a custom one even less so. It wasn’t until I stumbled over a bit of a bargain second hand, an early 2000’s Russian made Kocmo, that I decided to start my foray into titanium. Ti excels steel in a few ways, it’s more resistant to dings and dents and it has better fatigue resistance, with a higher fatigue limit that allows it to withstand more stress cycles than steel before failing. And last but certainly not least, titanium has superior corrosion resistance compared to steel and aluminium, as it forms a robust, protective oxide layer that shields it from even the harshest corrosive conditions. All of this sounds like the perfect concoction to build the ultimate all-terrain, all-weather goat, doesn’t it?

    My Kocmo has gone through a few different outfits since I first built it up. At first I ran it 10-speed friction shifted, which didn’t last long. I quickly replaced it with an Alfine 8 IGH, which was a perfect albeit a bit heavy setup. Titanium usually lends itself well to lightweight builds, but my Kocmo is of the more overengineered, bulky persuasion – at least for Ti standards – which works well for my intended use. So, I’ve not been concerned with lightweight this and that.

    The IGH setup served me well for commuting and gravel in the colder seasons, but as a mindless tinkerer, I can’t leave well alone and right now it looks like this, which is likely the way it’ll remain for a while yet. 1×11 and a set of comfy North Road bars, the result is a Randonneur-esque 26’er build which I’m quite proud of.

    I have to touch on the ride quality too, and be as wishy washy as I was earlier in regards to steel vs alu. I insist on being able to tell a difference, I feel that my Kocmo is decidedly stiffer and somewhat harsher than my steel frames. The BB area of my Kocmo is less flexy than on my Surly’s, giving you greater power output at the cost of some extra harshness over bumpy terrain. I am actually pretty okay with that trade-off, as I find myself putting in a lot of tarmac hours on the Kocmo. But again, this perceived rigidity could be down to component choice. Regardless, my Kocmo has definitely been the better option for year round riding, I worry a lot less about maintenance and cleaning than I do with my steel frames. I like that Ti frames typically are finished raw, so there’s no paint to damage and all you have to do to brush up the frame is give it a scrub with a Scotchbrite and some lemon juice. Ti just oozes understated class even when abused, where neglected steel can look sad and ratty. Oxidised aluminium too. Taking all of that into consideration, I admit that I’m slowly coming around to it possibly being ‘the material for me’. But as the old saying goes, nothing is perfect. Being a neurotically obsessive person, I have to refer back to a previous point I made on repairability. For me a proper utilitarian bicycle is one that is strong, reliable and low maintenance. Now it should be mentioned that titanium isn’t particularly prone to failures, but there’s still this voice in the back of my head going… What if it failed, could I have it fixed? After some research the doubt started creeping in, because like with aluminium, titanium also calls for a fairly specialist repair process. Titanium, like aluminium, is very sensitive to heat and contamination so accurate temperature control is of utmost importance. And to further complicate things it requires an oxygen-free welding environment, achieved by using argon gas or a vacuum chamber. When you take that into consideration it becomes pretty clear that this is not something your average garage can sort out for you.

    A video on Titanium welding by weldingtipsandtricks

    This means that if my Ti frame fails, I’d likely have to accept it being a wallhanger and that is something that doesn’t sit well with me. I know some of you reading this will find my insistence on repairability a bit much, but it matters to me and I believe it is an important consideration for anyone who is concerned with the disposable waste culture that we live in. I do feel somewhat assured by the fact that Ti frames don’t tend to fail that easily, and if they do it’s usually due to poor welding from the production line.

    But hey! What about all those horror threads on various forums? I wanted to address this quickly because when doing research before buying my Kocmo, I was somewhat discouraged by the many people talking about cracking Ti frames.

    But honestly I think this perception is somewhat skewed. There are far fewer titanium frames in circulation compared to other materials, so any issues are more noticeable due to the smaller sample size. Additionally, because titanium frames are a significant investment, owners who encounter problems may be more vocal about their experiences, amplifying the perception of frequent failures. I dare wager that the actual incidence of failure is significantly lower than it appears online. That isn’t to say you shouldn’t take it into consideration, especially if buying a second hand frame. I did notice that a good chunk of the failing frames that I saw online were older race frames. I always advocate for exerting extra caution when buying used race frames in any material, as these were designed to be as light as possible while being able to withstand the abuse of riding a season or two – they weren’t intended for long term use.

    So, where do I stand on Titanium? Well, it’s complicated. I think I prefer my Kocmo to my steel frames. It feels bombproof, it’s less maintenance (stays pretty even when mucky!) and it rides nicely. But in terms of it being the ultimate ‘one bike you need’, it still falls short of steel simply due to the initial financial outlay and convoluted repair process. A steel frame gets you the best bang for your buck, a strong frame which can easily be modified and repaired. The only caveat is poor corrosion resistance, but let’s face it, unless you’re severely neglecting your bikes it is very unlikely that the rust will eat through your frame in your lifetime. I actually found it shockingly hard to find real horror pictures of rusted through frames on Google, so either Big Steel is keeping us in the dark with strict censorship – or maybe the rust issues in steel frames are vastly overstated. I am still very happy I dipped my toes in the world of titanium, though, and I’ve recently bought my second Ti frame (yet to be unveiled). I think it is worthwhile giving titanium a go, especially if you can find a bargain second hand. For someone like me, who owns multiple steel bikes, the price of a new Ti frame is not justifiable, especially considering the very marginal benefits. Ti still seems to cater more to the race-oriented, where weight to strength ratio is an important factor, and I would imagine the allure of exotic exclusivity is a selling point as well. But for a workhorse, I must echo the old proverb – steel is real!

    Some may take offense to me not including carbon or stainless steel. My decisions for that are quite simple. Carbon actually ticks a lot of boxes, it is plenty strong, incredibly compliant on and off road, corrosion resistant and highly repairable (often quite cheaply), but also more sensitive. It is prone to damage by user error, installation of parts has to be done carefully to protect the integrity of the carbon layup. It also doesn’t handle impacts well, resulting in cracks or delamination, so it isn’t a material I’d trust for a more rough and tumble existence in cities or on the trails. In regards to stainless steel, I am very curious to see what the future brings. As of now it is somewhat limited by lack of tubesets, lugged construction and the higher cost of manufacture. I’d love to sample a stainless steel frame, though.

    . . .

  • Let’s Think About Bars

    When I got into wrenching on bicycles, I primarily worked on 90’s and early 2000’s mountain bikes, because that particular time period caught my interest. I liked the frame geometries offered, a nice blend of slackness and aggressive raciness. There was a lot of experimentation going on as well, but in spite of that there were definitely some set standards. And purists stuck to them – and still stick to them. We’re talking the classic NORBA geometry with the arse pointed up at the sky and your back extended to the point where you wonder if, given another hundred years, would we see an evolutionary leap occurring in retro mountain bike enthusiasts and roadies, doubling the 33 spinal bones that the human body already lugs around?

    Probably not.

    Example of early MTB riding position

    That said, I am one of those folks that quite like the look of a stem long enough to be used as a jousting pole combined with a very narrow handlebar. I rode that for ages, and I particularly liked the twitchiness of narrow bars. I felt I had a level of control that the current trend of sluggish wide bars simply cannot offer. For some that twitchiness is scary, and most people advocate against narrow bars for off-road now, but for me it allowed me to make very incremental changes to my steering, and I didn’t have any worries about bashing myself into stuff during particularly narrow sections of trail. Unfortunately that doesn’t change the fact that the NORBA tradition did my back in. Still does.

    My Rockhopper sporting a long Syncros stem, my back hurts just looking at it

    Hoping to find a way to rekindle things with my spine, I did some research. After many encouraging statements from various users on a plethora of online bike forums, who voiced similar concerns, I was inclined to begin experimenting. I felt the stars had aligned, as around the time there even seemed to be a fair few cycling YouTuber’s chanting a whole new mantra; “A bike should be comfortable“. Comfort? Eugh, what’s that? Won’t that ruin the unspoiled aesthetic of the bike, making my toes curl up in utter cringe as I take the obligatory mid-ride sideshot? Yes, possibly. You will probably be laughed at by purists, driving them to making silly newspaper cutouts with your name alongside horrendous threats of great violence. Alas, that’s the price we pay for being different.

    I ventured into the dark side of things when I decided to put risers in combination with a longer stem. With this bike, I didn’t mind the reach so much, but the drop itself from saddle down to bars was a bit too much. The result was a Surly Sunrise bar setup with a 100mm-ish Thomson stem on my Surly 1×1. It felt great. And when I realised that the world didn’t spontaneously combust in front of me, as I tightened the clamp down, I was hooked. I knew I had to try a different setup on another one of my bikes, because the night is young and I always have great ideas when I drink. I am a changed man, I now believe a bike should be a fluid, everchanging thing. I don’t believe in staticness anymore. It’s boring and it is limiting. In this day and age we’re told to buy 10 different bikes for 10 different disciplines, but we’re forgetting the fact that at the end of the day we’ve got a frame at the heart of everything, and if we dare, we can put just about every component we wish unto it. In other words, seeing the bike as more of a tool than a fashion statement greatly increases its versatility and allows us to experience many different ride qualities without having to buy a new bike. And remember, although there are many proprietary standards in today’s industry, many older industry standards still prevail, and as such even your old ride can be treated to just about any component of today.

    My first alt-bar venture, 1×1 with Sunrise bars on a longer reach Thomson stem

    Oh dear, went off on a tangent there didn’t I? Of course we’re not going to talk groupsets and other nonsense today. We’re specifically focusing on bars, because they can truly transform your riding experience with very minimal effort on your end. But even though that is the case, and even though the leisure cycling industry is booming, there’s still a reluctance to stray away from ‘what everyone else is doing’.. What happened to the unique, the individual? What happened to punk rock?! Aaargh!

    But all hope is not lost, because when you look online for handlebars, you’ll eventually run into a fringe of nutters that traverse all the different riding cultures, they blend and bastardise as they see fit to get something rideable and comfortable. The terminology used to describe is “xbikers”, and although I’d love to sum them up with words – a picture speaks a thousand words, so I refer you to this subreddit. The xbikers alongside the bikepackers are very much the driving force behind the “alt bar” (alternative bars) movement online, which consists of everything from BMX, MX bars, backswept bendy bars, altered drop bars and other funky things. The market is still very niche, probably due to the general belief that making your ride, say, more upright, is going to make your bike incapable of riding anything but the street by your gran’s sheltered accommodation. But that’s not the case. Sure it can have negative impacts on climbs, by not allowing you to weigh down the front end enough, and dependent on width it can make steering sluggish. On the flipside it may also have a positive impact on your overall riding comfort by giving you a more relaxed position on the bike and more hand positions to spruce things up a bit.

    Alternative Handlebar examples

    For me, high rise and backswept bars has been a winner. I’m loving the more upright riding position, and when I say upright it doesn’t have to be sitting on the porcelain throne Dutchie riding. But it can be, to each their own. I’ve found that being able to sit upright allows me to take in more of my surroundings, which is one of the main reasons why I cycle, and honestly the bike feels no less capable. I still troop through the root infested singletrack, I still (try to) climb steep inclines, I ride all the things I used to ride, with the only difference being that, at last, I’m actually comfortable. Another positive is that it has allowed me to be a lot less picky about frame sizing, and I now rest easy knowing that I can get a good fit simply by playing around with various different bar and stem combinations on my builds.

    Now, I should note that although I am kind of promoting the ‘alt bar’ movement here, I do have some reservations about it. The reason being that to me, alt bar, refers to any handlebar that doesn’t conform to the norms and traditions, so alternatives to low rise, flat bars and drop bars. But it’s important to understand that what we refer to as “alt bars” include many handlebars that were commonplace on commuter bicycles going back a century. The homogenisation of handlebar setups is a relatively recent occurrence. My concern is therefor that the ‘alt bar’ is just another attempt at profiting from reinventing the wheel, where instead of promoting the use of the many cheap commuter bars out there, we have a determined bunch of companies essentially selling basic backswept cruiser bars, or porteur bars, at an incredibly high price, marketed as something ‘new and groundbreaking’.

    But with that said I’m happy that people are taking the fight to traditionalist, purist views within the bicycle world. And I am all for the experimentation. A project I’m personally hoping to realise soon is a MTB with Porteur bars. The extreme backsweep of those will allow me to go ultra-upright and I’m curious to see how they’ll do offroad. My theory is that the long backswept handles will function a bit as a bouncy lever, with a suppressing effect over bumpy terrain. I’m basing this on my experience of the Porteur bars on my ’49 German Randonneur, which have a lovely natural flex to them.

    Last but not least, another important aspect of handlebars to consider is that they come in various different materials. You’ve got your aluminium, steel, titanium, carbon, and if you’re feeling a bit exotic, magnesium handlebars. I run a mixture of aluminium and steel myself, and have a preference for steel handlebars. But I also have bikes where I think aluminium works better. Aluminium is more rigid, and steel has a natural flex to it. I’ve found that stiffer frames (aluminium, lightweight steel) benefit from steel bars, to soften the ride a bit, as very stiff frames have a tendency to bounce too hard on bumpy trails. In contrast a more flexy, heavy steel frame such as my plush, flexy Karate Monkey or 1×1 feels great with a set of MX aluminium bars, because they stiffen the front end and allow for greater control and a better, more direct, feel of the ground in front of me.

    So, to conclude, stop being a bore. Stop sticking to traditions. Try things. A bar swap is one of the most basic bits of wrenching a person can do, it takes the same amount of time as downing that bottle of lager you’re holding in your hand. It’s a simple thing that can completely transform your riding. It can even save that old frame you’ve outgrown and make it rideable again. The world is yours.

    And don’t get me started on the beauty of bar-ends.. We’ll tackle that in a separate post sometime..

    . . .

Meet Chris. A professional catdad riddled with bike hoarding disorder and compulsive wrenching disorder. I ride (poorly), build (badly) and try to document my doings to my best ability in the online realm.

On my website you will find my bike musings, build journals and resources that may be of use to you. Or maybe they’ll send you down a perilous path and leave you stranded in a knowledge vacuum. I know that I know nothing.. or whatever.

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