OLPH Builds a Wheel, Part Two

28 August 2015

In mid-July, Sean lent me his truing stand and dishing tool so that I could finish building Gonzo's rear wheel. 

That was a month and a half ago.

On the evening of July 20, Sean and Dale dropped by.  Sean and I sat on the floor, passing the wheel back and forth to each other.  I'd made the spokes on both sides far too tight, and I was having trouble wrapping my head around the concept of centering the rim over the hub.  Sean finally got through to me:  tightening spokes on one side moves the rim to that side and the hub to the other.  After an hour or so, it was centered.

The next morning, halfway to the lab on Beaker, I heard the unmistakable "tink!" of a broken spoke. It was on the rear wheel, drive side, because of course it was. 

Beaker's wheels are Mavics.  It was the special red one that snapped. The spokes are few and bladed. I have neither the correct wrench nor replacement spokes. The best I could do was to loosen the brakes and ride home very slowly. 

I grabbed Kermit and headed back out.  This was the first time Kermit had pulled commuter duty:

If anyone were to have a replacement spoke for a special edition wheel now 8 years old, it would be Michael at Wheelfine.  I called him from the lab.  He said he might, so two days later I left work early and drove to his shop with three wheels in the back seat.  I had the broken Mavic and both of Gonzo's wheels (the front had been out of true and I'd trued it the best I could).  If time would allow, perhaps Michael fix the one and check the others.

I arrived at 4:00 p.m.  He said he had to leave at 6:00. While other customers came and went (I think there might have been three), I took pictures.

This is his truing stand:

The shop might look like a hoarder's paradise, but he does have his tools in order:

Finding a replacement spoke was proving difficult.  Michael had a bag of Mavic spokes from that era, but none was red, nor quite the right size.  He found a silver one that looked right, but he had to file it down at the elbow:

Because there are only 28 spokes, one broken one will send the wheel far out of true, so far, it turns out, that it takes a few tries to figure out just how long the replacement should be.  It didn't help to measure what was left of the broken one, because it had snapped somewhere above the elbow. We wound up with a black Mavic spoke.  He set about truing the wheel:

Whatever spoke you need, I'm sure he's got it:

Lotus, the German pinscher, also known as Cujo.  Look, but do not touch:

The wheel on the stand:

Another beautiful lugged frame, far too large for me:

View from Wheelfine of the Sourland Mountain:

Japanese beetles:

The new spoke:

Michael looked at the wheel I was building.  The drive side was far too tight still; he measured the tension and loosened the spokes. He gave me instructions for what to do next, which I jotted down dutifully on my cell phone. Then he took a look at the front wheel, which I'd gotten to be about as true as it was going to get.

When I finally left the shop, it was 7:15.

Another month would go by before I was ready for Michael to check the wheel again.  During that time, I might have worked on the wheel for an hour or two.  As I tightened the non-drive spokes, I noticed that I was stripping the aluminum spoke nipples.  So, I ordered a nipple driver (having returned the loaner to Jim) and replaced all of the non-drive spoke nipples.  I got the dishing as close as I could, and as much wobble out as I could.  The roundness was another matter; the strike plate wouldn't stay in place.  The stand not being mine, I didn't want to force it.

Enough was enough; I wanted to put Gonzo back together.  With vacation days piling up, I took last Thursday, Friday, and Monday off. Michael was expecting me on Thursday.

Once again, the wheel was on the stand:

And, once again, the drive side spokes were too tight. He loosened them all, and, within half an hour, put the wheel in riding condition.  I wanted to know if I was any good at this.  "Not bad," he said. He told me that in choosing butted spokes and alloy nipples, I'd made my task about as difficult as one could make it.  "When you tighten them, the spokes heat up, stretch, and do the opposite of what you're expecting."  They also go "ping!" a lot as they resist, then suddenly give way to allow tightening to continue. It's very disconcerting.

He put the cassette on for me, too.

Gonzo finally had a rear wheel:

Now it was time to put the bike back together.  I dragged the work stand in from the porch and made a work space in the corner of our lower level:

Jim promised to come over to help me finish the job. It would have to wait a few days, though. The next day, Friday, I was going to be busy buying a car.