Strange Yet Familiar: Lesli's 1985 Trek 420

When confronted (yes, "confronted" -- there's no other way to describe the 'smack into a brick wall feeling' of getting that call from siblings halfway round the world saying it's time to come home if you want to have that one last visit with your elderly and increasingly frail parents) with an unexpected one week stay in Oregon this summer, I realised two things almost immediately. One was quite obvious really -- this was going to be emotionally a very difficult time. The second decision followed hard on the first but for many would not have seemed so obvious:  I would need a bike to ride. 

I knew this would be non-negotiable. My last visit was three summers ago. My mother's Alzheimers diagnosis was so recent, the family was really still in denial, treating the medical process as fluid and inconclusive, i.e. "Alzheimers is just one of the things we're looking at" and reassuring people "the doctors haven't said for sure that's what it is". But all other possible causes for my mother's strange lapses and irrational behaviour were being quickly ruled out. Meanwhile, my father and siblings were taking it seriously enough to ensure that Mom's knee replacement surgery that spring was performed under a spinal block anesthetic, rather than general anesthesia which seems to carry some risks of cognitive impairmen and which could not be quantified beforehand in someone already under investigation for dementia.

Where I'm going with this is, in 2012 my family was in turmoil, my mother wasn't 100% sure who I was all the time, and I cried every night to the point of near-hysterics. Fortunately for me, Adam was with me so I had support. 

This trip, Adam couldn't come. What relief or outlet or avenue for escape would I have?  I don't know of very many things that help on every possible level -- mentally, emotionally, physically -- in times of stress the way cycling does.  I don't 'do' any (other) kind of 'sport'. If I did, perhaps I'd know of other options; I hear running is also very helpful in similar ways, sometimes even more so for some people. But I don't run -- and with my knees, never will.  

So I needed to be able to cycle. And I use the word 'need' deliberately and literally. 

Arranging an absence from work so soon on the back of my revision and exam leave did not present a problem, and flights were quickly booked.  

Meanwhile, I agonised over what options might be available in order to ensure that I had a bicycle available to me in Oregon for the entire duration of my stay. There was no point unless the bike was available 24/7, as the prospect of anxiety, grief and jetlag conspiring into the kind of insomnia that might make a 2am blast up the mountain or down the river absolutely imperative. 

My options boiled down to:  take my own bike, or borrow one. (Renting one was also explored but had to be ruled out for reasons already discussed here.)  While borrowing one conceivably could present some of the same issues as renting, it would at least widen the field to types of bicycles beyond aggressive carbon racing bicycles. 

I put out feelers on social media to see if anyone might have a bicycle they would be willing to lend me.  As to where the bike might be located and the hows and wheres of collecting and returning it, I couldn't allow myself to worry about those issues unless I actually had a viable offer. 

With just a few weeks to go, I began preparing to take my own bike. I would love to have taken my Puch Princess but in its current incarnation, I didn't feel entirely confident about dismantling, packing, unpacking, reassembling and fettling it. The Cross Check, on the other hand, I know inside out and knew I could manage all that easily. So I bought a hard bicycle travel case. (And deciding on which one to buy was a minefield in itself -- so much conflicting advice and entrenched views! I had people who don't know anything about me insisting via social media that I was going about it all wrong: wrong bike, wrong case, to the point of calling me stupid. Ah, never mind. Such exchanges are maddening and incomprehensible to me but not exactly unfamiliar.) 

Sorry, where was I?  

Oh yes, a bicycle!

A few weeks before departure, the blogging world came to my rescue. Actually, blogging may have had nothing to do with it -- it may have just been one woman helping another, or one bicycle lover reaching out to another, or one experienced randonneur lending a hand to a newer one. In any case, Pamela of The Blayleys blog put out a number of feelers through her extensive network of randonneuring contacts... and out of the ether came....

... this from a woman named Lesli, located in -- where else -- Eugene: 

I could offer you the loan of my Trek 420 road bike for free if you don't mind riding an older steel frame with a 1x7 drivetrain (I have ridden it on a 1000k brevet without issue). Despite its looks its pretty nimble and fun to ride. I am 5’3 and ride 50cm sized frames. It’s super old school. Configuration is a little different at the moment (flat pedals not spds). Different drop bars and Brooks saddle.

Now, I've never ridden a vintage Trek and had my reservations about a 1x7 drivetrain. I talked about this with Lesli. She said she thought it was a replacement cassette with larger cogs than the bike would have had originally. She also said she's not a strong rider but had ridden out over some pretty impressive mountain ranges in the Cascades and Rockies. Hmmm. I had a look on Google Maps at the gradients of the roads running in and out of Roseburg where I would be staying. I might just manage this. 

But the key thing was my initial impression. Oh wow, that is just so gorgeous. And... I know this bicycle. I could almost feel it under me, flying up Lookingglass Road. I knew those handlebars, those shifters.... even in a weird way, the saddle Lesli told me was on it, a Selle An-atomica Titanico which I have never even seen in the flesh, so rare they are on this side of the Atlantic. I found a copy of Trek's 1985 catalogue online, which showed the bicycle's original specification and sizing and geometry. It wasn't too far off the Puch's original build. 

I knew I could ride this bike and I knew that I would. 

Lesli was unbelievably accommodating about collecting the bike and returning. My flight was due into Eugene around 6pm. My sister would meet me at the airport and we'd swing by Lesli's house to pick up the bicycle before heading down the freeway to Roseburg. 

Of course my flight was delayed. By nearly three hours. Through social media, Lesli and I kept in touch. She went to a party. I called her from the airport and she popped back home. At about 9pm, we met and it felt like we had both been circulating in the same group of mutual friends for years and somehow just hadn't met in person. Instantly, we were talking bicycles... and rebuilds... and horses! Reality kicked in: I was jetlagged and it was getting late, I was keeping her from doing stuff and my own journey wasn't over yet. 

My sister Barbara and I placed Lesli's Trek in the back of Barb's car. It would be morning before I had a good look at it in proper daylight. 

I took with me from home my own saddle (with seatpost as dialling in a Selle SMP saddle can be a time-consuming fiddly business) and pedals, plus a seatpack (with my usual toolkit) and water bottle (which also came in useful while travelling).  Straight away, I found my seatpost was the wrong size, which was always a risk. As I was curious about the Selle An-Atomica, I decided not to fit my own saddle after all. Then, as my first day with my family unfolded, it became clear I was probably not going to get any long road rides in but instead use the bicycle for getting around town and of course any night time sanity rides. 

So in the end, I used the bicycle exactly as Lesli had it set up, the only change being to raise the saddle by about 2 inches (first wrapping a bit of electrical tape around the seatpost to mark Lesli's position). 

My first ride was from my eldest sister's house (where I was staying) to my parents' house. I remembered this as being "just around the corner" -- well, it was, but a bit further, about 8 blocks instead of 3, and distinctly uphill going over and downhill coming back. On my first morning, I checked the bike over, raised the saddle and set off in shorts, tank top and sandals. 

And oh my word, the bike felt so light and nimble. I arrived at my parents, chatted for a while, serviced Barbara's bike (which had been hanging from a hook in the garage for a number of years, festooned with cobwebs, but at the end of the day was in amazingly good condition, nearly as immaculate as when she bought it in 1999, a day I well remember as I met her at the store on my ancient old 3-speed beater and then rode home with her).  

Anyway -- point being, I was itching to get back on the Trek again. I made excuses about checking set up again, etc and set off round the neighbourhood, which is all on the side of a hill. UP! A good grinding bash. Then WHEE! Down again. The gearing was a shock to me, not nearly as low as I had hoped, but oh boy the bike was sweet. In fact, I heard myself say "What A Honey!" right out loud at some point. 

Honey seemed somehow appropriate, given the colour. Trek rightly called it taupe in their catalogue, but this is a metallic pale taupe, not at all bland, not too warm nor too cool. But with a definite Cool factor. It shimmered a little differently in different lights and I never quite captured it on film to my satisfaction. 

Sometimes it looked... grey. 

Other times, more beige. 

As for gearing... well, I did struggle on those mountain roads over the weekend I spent camping with my four sisters. But it wasn't til the afternoon before I flew home that I got a chance to do a full specification check. And this is what I found. 

Surprise No. 1 (not really a surprise after 5 days of riding): 

Gearing: 6 speed, not 7. Shimano cassette 14-16-18-21-24-28 with a 42t Campagnolo chainring, giving 39.6-79.1 gear inches. 

Surprise No. 2

The most amazing combination of brands over the working parts: 

• As mentioned, Campagnolo chainring but with

• Suntour Superbe Pro crankarms

• 700 (not 27 inch) wheels with 25 tyres (okay this was also not a surprise but was interesting given original S.O.S. for a touring/randonneuring bike with wider tyres)

Speaking of wheels and tyres, they were pretty much what I prefer on my own bikes: Mavic rims (though I'm not familiar with this red label) and Conti rubber.

• Campagnolo Nuovo Record rear derailleur

• Suntour Accushift bar end shifter

• Dia-Compe brakes

As for finishing kit, the bicycle has an unbranded handlebar, SR quill stem, MKS RIIIX platform pedals and then of course the Selle An-Atomica Titanico saddle. Note also the fluting on the SR seatpost. 

It all added up to a classic yet distinctive steel road bike that oozes retro appeal. 

As for geometry, I made my very first attempt at measuring up a bicycle myself! I don't think it was 100% accurate and frankly I didn't learn much from studying the figures afterwards. The stack to reach ratio according to my calculations came out at about 1.2, which does seem quite low-slung and aggressive. But as I've learned, the real-life ratio can be changed dramatically with an uncut steerer or, in this case, long quill stem! 

Here is the geometry chart from Trek's 1985 catalogue for its "Sport" models: 

There's nothing very remarkable about this but the translation for me meant the bike overall felt a little on the small side. I think this was largely because of how high the quill stem needs to be mounted, both for me and apparently also for Lesli (as I didn't change this), which brings the handlebars back, significally shortening the reach you'd normally have with a 53.6cm top tube. Normally that 53.6cm top tube would be okay, though at my outer limits for reach. But the seat tube is only 47.5cm tall, so it's quite a small frame to begin with. I certainly would have preferred a bit more length to the seat post and if I had been riding the bicycle longer term would have raised the saddle and dropped the bars a bit, which conceivably could produce quite a good fit for me, for rides in the 40-50 mile range at least. 

Lesli warned me the bike might want to bolt and take off on an 1,000km DIY audax - was I prepared for that?! In truth, our distances were well under control. I can't say the same for our speed though! Sedate, this bicycle most certainly is not! I may have garnered a "girl racer" reputation around Roseburg in my week being partnered with this fine steed. 

At the end of the day (each and every day, in fact) and by the end of the week, I had fallen in love with this bike. If I seriously thought I needed to keep a bike of my own in Oregon, I'd have made Lesli an offer to buy this one. She did give me a standing offer to borrow it anytime I'm in town, which is the next best thing. 

I thoroughly enjoyed riding this bike. Many thanks to Lesli for the opportunity. It's a honey!