Rowlf (Almost)

Campagnolo Athena 11-speed

2 April 2016

I was all set to announce the rebirth of Rowlf today, but that would have been premature.  This mechanical nerd blog post is about what happens when one presents a doodle to Da Vinci. Stop reading now if you are bored by small parts.

With Jack away at one of his conferences, and with many of my real and online friends away with him, I found myself with plenty of time to finish building the Colnago.  Jim had some spare time, too, and we got to work on Thursday evening.

Michael had installed the tough stuff and the easy things I don't have the tools for: the headset, bottom bracket, cranks, cassette, pedals, and seat post (which required cutting). Together we'd put the saddle and stem on so that we could get my measurements exact.

The rest was up to me. Never having worked with Campy, I had a small adventure figuring out where the tightening bolt on the shifter is; the direction of approach is opposite that of Shimano. Finding the exit for the brake cable took some random poking about. The brakes and derailleurs were easy.

Still mystified by cables, and confused about chain length determination, I waited for Jim's guidance. He demystified both for me.

Michael had insisted that the cables cross under the downtube. None of my other steel bikes have crossed cables. The old Miss Piggy did; the new one has internal routing. So, we took our best guess about the arcs of the various cables as they left the handle bars.

All of Rowlf's components are new -- fresh out of the box new. So after digging around the box that held the cables and coming up without ferrules, we assumed that they weren't necessary with these components. The housing seemed to fit snugly almost everywhere it had to. The only problem spot was where the rear derailleur cable fits onto the chainstay. That definitely needed a ferrule, one that tapers. Jim said he had those at home; we left the rear derailleur cable unfinished.

We worked on the brakes last.  It was getting late. Somehow, we managed to cut the front brake cable housing too short. Maybe we measured wrong. Maybe I snipped it on the wrong side when Jim held it between his hands. No big deal. Jim has a garage full of black cable. I have no need to advertise Campagnolo on my cable housing, despite the purist rule that the label must be visible and readable at all times. As far as I'm concerned, the fewer logos, the better.

As of Thursday night, Saturday's forecast was looking to be unfavorable.  Should my ride be rained out, I'd bring Rowlf up to Jim's garage to finish the build.

This is how we left things on Thursday night:

Saturday was a sad day for Freewheelers. One by one we posted our ride cancellations. The rain was just moving in as I packed the car.

We worked for about two hours, finishing when the rain did. I was still unsure about the handlebar angle, but I'm always playing with that. We left it slightly high for the time being. Jim declared he was leaving the bar taping to me. I've done it all of once by myself.

I took Rowlf for a spin around Jim's neighborhood. Jim rode alongside, looking and listening for problems.  The only problem I had was figuring out how to shift. Campy shifting is weird. It's backwards. I'll figure it out.

When I got home, I taped the bars hastily. From the front it looked okay. I thought I screwed up finishing it off; the look was sloppy. The tape was less than sticky. I figured I'd have to replace it soon enough anyway. Light colors never last.

Finally, I installed the easiest parts: the finishing touches.

At 3:32 p.m., Rowlf, 30 years old, was reborn:

I took him up to see Michael.  I was sure he'd find something aesthetically wrong. Maybe he'd find the Jagwire among the Campagnolo housing.

He liked what he saw. At first. Then he noticed that the front brake cable was too short, and that it should have been set behind the shifter cables, not in front, in order to prevent the cable from being inadvertently snagged from the front by a hand. I could ride it this way, he said, but he didn't like it.

We dropped the handlebars down a little.  He was glad that the stem-to-saddle length was a perfect fit.

Then he noticed the missing ferrules. They ought to have been in the box with the cables, he told me, and when I told him that I was sure they weren't, he was disappointed at Campy. Again, I could ride the bike as it was, but without the ferrules to protect the cable junctions. the cables would start to fray quickly in places I wouldn't see.

As he walked around the bike (we had it on the stand now), he noticed more and more little things.
"It's my OCD," he said, sheepishly, as he aligned the brake pads so that they were exactly even when seen head-on. He thought the toeing angle was too severe, and adjusted that in seconds. He twisted the rear derailleur housing so that the label presented itself at a different angle. He moved the quick-release skewers so that they both pointed in the same direction, about 30 degrees off of level.

In the end, though, he decided that I'd be better off if the cables were reset with the housing in ferrules. This would undo almost all of the work Jim and I had done today, but it would also send my less-than-stellar-now-that-I-looked-at-it tape job to the trash bin.  Michael has an OCD method for finishing off the tape, too.

I left Rowlf with Michael. He'll be ready to come home in a few days. I'll take pictures again then, and we'll all see what a vintage Colnago Seronni Mater with full Campagnolo components is supposed to look like.

I wanted to be able to say that I build this bike. I suppose I still can, I guess, considering that I put the wheels together and did a fair amount of component installation. But Jim and Michael put in a lot of work, too, and without them I'd still be staring at a pile of metal parts.