Stanley 1913 One-Hand Vacuum Insulation Bike Mug – first impressions of a thermos (finally!) made for bicycle water cages

Sometimes I find myself on ride that is only one cup of hot coffee short of perfection – maybe a sunny, cold, dry winter commute, or a fall neighborhood tour with the kids.  In pursuit of the elusive Perfect Ride I’ve been casting about on and off for years for a thermos that fits a standard water bottle cage.  It’s not an easy thing!  Most everything I encountered required either a custom cage, a handlebar mount, a lot of duct tape, or some other ugly jury-rigged compromise.  But recently I stumbled across the Stanley 1913 One-hand Vacuum Insulation Bike Mug.  I bought one and got my hands on it yesterday.  Here are my first impressions:

First off, it’s indented at just the right spot, and snaps into the bottle cage easily and firmly – no adjustments necessary.  The thermos body is all metal and quite durable, and looks as though it will be easy to clean.   (Which apparently you have to do by hand – “not dishwasher safe”.)  I expect that the smooth metal exterior will quickly become scratched and discolored by the cage, but I don’t mind a well-used look on a well-used thing.

The lid isn’t quite as finely tailored to a cyclist’s needs, though in fairness Stanley did seem to try, and I’m not sure they could have done better.  My favorite travel mugs have a little a reservoir in the lid that holds a bit of the hot coffee and lets you sip from it as it cools.  This lid has only a narrow opening that’s triggered by a pushbutton in the rear.  It’s – well, okay having to push the button.  The problem is that the narrow spout concentrates the hot liquid on one small spot on your lips and, if the coffee’s still hot from brewing, it’s painful. I don’t much care for this design but I get why Stanley did it this way – these thermoses are made to be used by moving cyclists, and a “dead-man’s lid” with no reservoir makes a certain sense.  When the bottle’s in the cage, it won’t leak at all.  And hot liquid won’t get spattered all about if a cyclist hits a bump or loses his grip on the thermos while drinking from it.

After 20 minutes the coffee’s probably cool enough to drink easily anyhow.

Finally, Stanley included a little “mud guard” on the lid, a little piece of plastic that covers the opening and keeps grit away.  To drink, you rotate it over to one side.  I’ll probably just leave this piece at home –  I’m not going to be taking the thermos off-road as it is, plus the piece is held to the lid by its own tension and it’s much too easy to imagine trying to twist it and instead causing it to pop off and spring away in an unknowable direction.

The thermos comes in three colors – black, silver and a weird bright blue they call “cobalt”.  You can find it on Amazon for $25-30.  I’ll report more on it after I’ve used it a bit.

The Joy of Leather

I took a leap of faith in 1999 when I installed a new Brooks B-17 Special (available from Rivendell Bicycles, here) onto my mountain bike for my commuting experiment. I’d gotten several thousand miles of comfortable use out of the same model on long-distance tours but I wasn’t sure how the material would hold up to the rigors and extremes of daily, year-round commuting, particularly rain and freezing temperatures. But things turned out really well! It was soon clear that the saddle was not going to disintegrate or stiffen into some kind of unrideable mass. It was comfortable, just like my original leather saddle; and as time went on, showed no unusual wear or fatigue. Indeed to the contrary, constant use seems to preserve the material rather than degrade it, and after 12 years and some 28,000 miles of all-weather use the leather looks no more worn than simply “broken-in”. Have a look:


Apparently the best thing you can do for a leather saddle is to ride it all the time. What I figure is, sure, the saddle is outdoors a couple hundred days every year, in scorching sun, drenching rain and temperatures ranging from 12 to 103 degrees – but I’m always sitting on it. And while that’s not a place I’d care to occupy for a couple hundred of hours every year, the constant 98 degree temperature, shade, shelter and gentle buffing provided by my – well, netherlands – seems to suit the saddle perfectly.

Otherwise the saddle is undemanding. I store the bike indoors out of the sun and the rain. When the saddle gets wet I let it dry on its own schedule (usually just overnight). Maybe once a year I’ll slather it with Brooks Proofride and let it sit for a few hours before buffing it with a cloth. The only problem I’ve ever had is breaking the tensioning bolt at the nose end a couple of times; but it’s a cheap part and the folks at College Park Bicycles know how to reinstall it.

So. I love this saddle, and recommend it highly. Its comfortable, durable, and easy to maintain. At this point I will probably be disappointed if I don’t wring 25 years and 50,000 miles from this $145 purchase.

Secrets of winter riding, Part 2 – Control

There are only two tricks to winter riding: Don’t freeze and don’t fall. In Part 1 I explained how to keep from freezing; now for some tips on how to stay upright.

First, however, one observation. If you can find clothing that suits you, you very well may become indifferent to cold. By contrast you will – or should – never become indifferent to snow. It’s possible to ride in the stuff, regularly and successfully, but it’s not ever as safe or as easy as riding on bare pavement. If you want to bike to work over snowy roads or trails, these suggestions will help. But if after trying it a few times you’re still uncomfortable, then don’t do it – wait for the plows to come through!

Moving along. The problem with snow is not so much that it’s slippery but that it’s uneven. Ruts, ridges and hard-packed clumps will all push you off a straight line. As you ride through these spots, your handlebars will twist in your hands, your front wheel will begin to slide, and it’ll feel like you’re going to topple over for sure. But remember Newton. Your bike wants to keep going in the direction that it’s been going; that is, in a straight line. And a wheel wants to spin, not burrow! As soon as your wheel clears the immediate obstacle, it’ll pop back straight and you can keep right on riding. Your aim is simply to allow that happen.

And therein is the essential trick to riding in snow: Let your bike work it out for itself. Loosen your grip. Let the handlebars wobble and twist. Keep pedaling, evenly and steadily, when you feel the front wheel begin to lose its purchase. It feels wrong, but it works out right! (Uh, most of the time – as I said, riding in snow is not as safe as riding on bare pavement.) The feeling of nearly losing control is really disconcerting and it’s hard to suppress the urge to wrestle the bike back into a straight line. But if you fight, you will almost always overcorrect, and wind up on the ground more often than if you just let everything go.

This is one of those lessons that, I think, is best learned through experience. The next snow day that comes along, take an hour or 90 minutes, find a stretch of road that’s not too heavily travelled, and just ride around. Relax your hands, arms and shoulders. Steer in and out of tire tracks, try turning a little harder than seems prudent. Accept that you will fall, and don’t try to stop your bike if it seems to be heading that way. Weirdly, once you accept that you are going to fall, you won’t (as often). And, at 8 mph and onto snow, it’s probably not going to hurt if you do go down. The first time I rode in deepish snow (6-7 inches, on precisely one of these “who cares” excursions), I fell, harmlessly,10 times in 90 minutes before I learned to trust the bike, and its inertia.

Practice helps. The more you ride in the snow, the more comfortable you’ll be with it. (And conversely, less comfortable when you don’t – the first snowy day of each year invariably presents a challenging commute!) Also bear in mind that, staying upright usually comes at the expense of a clean, straight riding line – a sort of Uncertainty Principle for bike riders. So in snow, don’t cut things as closely as you might otherwise, and be particularly vigilant for passing cars.

Finally. All of the foregoing pertains only to snow. None of it works on ice, where you can find yourself on the ground before you can even think the word “Zen”. On 28 degree mornings following a freezing rain, I walk to the Metro – or stay home along with everyone else whose businesses have closed for the day. If you do find yourself on a patch of ice (it happens!), steer as straight and steady a course as you can until you’ve cleared it. Don’t turn, don’t brake, don’t accelerate. Maybe don’t even breathe. And during those tense few moments, relax yourself by remembering that if you fall on ice, you leave a whole lot less of yourself on the ground than if you’d fallen on asphalt!

Secrets of winter riding, Part 1 – Clothing

There are only two things to sort out about winter riding: Clothing and control. First I’ll talk about clothing. If you dress right, it’s easy to stay warm, even comfortable, in temperatures down into the teens.

Most people overdress for winter riding, outfitting themselves like Admiral Peary embarking on a North Pole expedition. The main difference between you and Peary is that he spent his day standing stock still on the hind end of a dogsled, whereas you are exercising, and generating heat. (Another difference is that you can’t simply claim to have actually made it to the office and expect people believe you for the better part of a century.) Your pedalling can add 20 to 30 degrees to the perceived temperature, and if you’ve dressed according only to the thermometer, you’ll quickly overheat. So on your torso and legs, you need to underdress a bit. My default outfit for temperatures between about 23 and 35 degrees is two long sleeve woolen layers (at least one a turtleneck), topped by a medium weight (sort of “heavy windbreaker”), lightly water-repellent cycling jacket. On my legs I wear, over standard cycling shorts, a set of winter stretch cycling tights. Set up in that fashion I may be chilly for the first five or eight minutes but by the 10th I’m usually sweating.

(I swear by a Devold woolen zippered base layer I bought from Rivendell Bicycles a few years back. Rivendell no longer sells that brand and the closest thing I can find nowadays on the Devold website are its “Multisport” zip undershirts. Rivendell is now selling a similar high-neck zippered undershirt from New Zealand, which I’m sure is superb.)

The principle of underdressing does not apply to your hands, feet or face. They benefit little from your exertions and it’s important to make sure they’re well covered - don't skimp. Experiment with different weights of gloves and socks for different temperatures – you want your hands to be warm, but arctic gloves that are good at 15 degrees can feel really confining and uncomfortable at 40. A balaclava will keep your face and ears comfortable, and you can carry it scrunched up in a jersey pocket on days when you’re not sure you’ll need it or not.

Oh, finally. All of this assumes that you’re riding straight through to your destination, where within a minute or two after arriving, you’ll be moving indoors. Once you stop pedalling you will begin to lose heat very quickly – and thanks to your sweat, even more quickly at the end of the ride than at the outset.

Unsolicited advice: Five top tips for getting along with drivers

You’re slower than cars and harder to see. Sometimes you tie up an entire lane even though physically you occupy only a fraction of it. You are going to get in the way of drivers. Here are a few suggestions on how to keep from annoying them at the same time.

The best general advice is, ironically, simply to conduct yourself like a good driver. Try, within your ability, to become part of and remain within the flow of traffic. So, first – you already know this, but it can’t be omitted – ride predictably. Unpredictable riders agitate drivers. (Not to mention that they are more likely to get hit.) In Washington’s miserable commuter traffic, drivers are already burdened with enough anxiety and frustration. Don’t add to it.

Second. Ride confidently and purposefully. A fearful rider is an unpredictable rider, which is bad. (See above.) You have the right to be on the road; ride as though you believe it. And ride purposefully; don’t dither. Nobody likes ditherers.

Third. You are entitled to make drivers to wait for a bit behind you, to slow to let you into space, or to change lanes to pass you – that’s what “sharing the road” means. But never do anything to force a driver into an abrupt change of speed or direction. It’s discourteous and dangerous. When I drove a taxi, I devised a rule for good hacking: Never give your passengers, or other drivers, reason to reflect upon Newton’s Laws of Motion. You haven’t got passengers but the rule’s good for you too.

In addition to doing your best to become part of the flow, be polite. Really polite. Here you have an advantage. The humans beings piloting cars and trucks vanish within their large and impersonal machines. But you on your bike are visibly, perceptibly, a person. Remind drivers of this, in thoughtful and considerate ways, and you’ll defuse a lot of potential resentment. So:

Fourth. When someone gives you a break, acknowledge it. A wave, a nod – something they’ll see. Maybe they gave you a bit of room at a light so you could ease past them on the curb side. Or slowed to let you into their lane so you could ride around a parked car. Or waved you through at a stop sign. Whatever – say thanks and make sure they see it.

Fifth and finally. When you screw up, apologize. Yeah, it’s hard, but suck it up. Be a mensch. Once or twice I’ve actually turned around and chased down a driver whom I’d wronged. In both instances they greeted me ready to continue the fight, but upon hearing me admit that I’d been wrong, quickly calmed down, allowed that everyone makes mistakes, told me to be the hell more careful and wished me well.

This last bit of advice is, I think, pretty idiosyncratic (I’ve never seen anyone else recommend it) and I suppose that it needs to be applied judiciously (a soft answer doesn’t invariably turn away wrath) but apologies are powerful things and I’m willing to bet that both of those drivers went home and told their wives or girlfriends about the remarkable encounter they’d had that day with a bicyclist. It’s a neat trick to use a mistake to make a good impression, and uncommonly satisfying.

Helmets

I’ve never had much patience for helmet scolds – those self-appointed stewards of safety who, e.g., write into newspapers or magazines chastizing them for running a photograph of someone on (or nearby) a bicycle without a helmet; or who fix you with a condemnatory glare if you should venture out for a ride around the neighborhood with a cloth Campagnolo hat on your head. Yes, helmets reduce the risk of head injuries in an accident. A helmet might even save your life. By all means, wear one. I do, (almost) invariably. But spare me the self-righteousness and disapprobation if I choose not to. Bike riding isn’t significantly more dangerous than any number of things we undertake every day without special protection; going without a helmet on a bike is simply not the foolhardy, unthinking act that some would make it out to be. It’s just a choice.

(Seven hundred cycling deaths each year in the U.S. compared to 33,000+ in autos and 4,500+ for pedestrians. Injuries similarly skewed, away from cyclists. I wonder how many lives would be saved every year, or how many closed head injuries mitigated, by helmet use by everyone at all times? As they say - "if it saves one life, it's worth it".)

Helmets may help, but your best insurance against serious injury is unwavering attentiveness, the constant awareness of your surroundings and everything that moves in and out of them. The great majority of bicycle injuries and deaths result from auto collisions, and avoiding those one-sided encounters altogether is a more effective way to stay safe than relying on some thin piece of styrofoam once you’re headed toward the ground. (Which is why I direct my scorn toward cyclists with iPods, who, unlike bareheaded riders, are actually increasing their odds of a crash.)

What sucks?

There are of course drawbacks.

You have to build in transition time at both ends of work – cleaning up / drying off and changing into work clothes when you arrive; and then when it’s time to go home, changing back into bike clothes. It gets old. Some days the simple act of undressing and dressing yet again seems like the hardest part of the whole practice.

You are solely responsible for your safe and efficient progress. You’re the motor, you’re the driver – and you’re vulnerable. You must pay attention – to cars, pedestrians, other bikes, the road surface – so say goodbye to the 40 minutes or hour on your old commute when you’d read the paper or listen to the radio or books on tape. (I do see some riders with iPod buds in their ears but they are idiots.) In the same vein, when something breaks, you have to stop and fix it. This can be particularly unpleasant during dark and cold winter months. (It is a particular disadvantage compared to cars, which today are fantastically reliable, but perhaps not as much vis-à-vis Washington’s increasingly doddery subway service.)

Some days you’re just under the weather and biking is a chore, not enjoyable at all. Actual weather, remarkably enough, is not a downside. It’s just data. I’ve heard it said that there’s no such thing as bad weather, just the wrong clothes. It’s true on a bike, where if you’re warm, nothing else matters. After a few weeks of riding you’ll gain an accurate sense for what jersey, jacket, socks or gloves are appropriate to what conditions. (Write down the temperature and what you wore to help you remember.) You’ll know you’re a pro when you realize you’ve become completely indifferent each morning to the quality of weather you’re about to set out in. It won’t take as long as you think!