Bikes of the (employees) Bunch: Caley Fretz’s Ti Mosaic RT1 journey bike
In this week’s edition of Bikes of the Bunch we take a look in-house to profile another CyclingTips staff member’s ride. This time it’s the hiss Mosaic travel motorcycle are integral to editor-in-chief Caley Fretz.
The average Tour de France ride, in my own experience, is about 50 minutes long, meandering out from an Ibis Styles at the edge of municipality, its first 15 minutes dedicated to sweating out rose and its last 15 instants dedicated to finding the Ibis Styles again. Those midriff 20 minutes, the two half-hearted delays, the dog sprint, the sunup, the old lady sweeping her front porch, the smell of broiled bread and the audio of plump July wheat in the wind; those 20 minutes obligate the most wonderful moves all time.
I call this motorcycle my Sanity Machine. It’s the second of its genu, because the first was stolen. It goes with me everywhere, parcelled into a bag the dimensions of the a single motor box, slung on my back and through airfields and into the back of rental cars.
I’m cognizant not to complain about dealing races like the Tour de France, because, if I’m honest, it’s something I don’t reflect I’ll ever want to stop doing. But “its hard”. You don’t sleep much. You ingested like shit. To decompress after working for 16 hours you suck two beers and then a bottle of grow with your friend Rupert every night. And so the motorcycle becomes a lifeline, a drawback to some semblance of normalcy, the one thing you can wake up and do just like you wake up and do at home. You leave the Ibis tired, hungover, uncaffeinated, sullen, and return tired, hungover, uncaffeinated, and smiling.
The Sanity Machine is a Mosaic RT1, built by Aaron Barcheck in Boulder, Colorado, with three S& S couplers. Two of them are functional, necessary to pack the bicycle in an airline-fee-free bag, and one, on the seat mast, is an homage to foolishness. People ask why it’s there, and I sometimes make up seemingly rational concludes like “this way my saddle is always dead directly when I unpack it, ” which is true but too: who invests hundreds of dollars and computes quite a bit of weight to make sure their saddle is straight?
As I said, this is V2. 0 of the Sanity Machine. Aaron improved me the first one when I was a tech writer at VeloNews, traveling two or three times as much as I do in my current capacity. It was sort of early in the road disc periods, so I studied perhaps I’d positioned discs on it some era. It was built with quick releases and rim-brake attaches but likewise a rear disc tab. I reckon I threw discs on it once, then immediately made them off. Disc restraint don’t belong on wander bikes.
Walking out to where your bike is supposed to be and finding it’s not there is among the worst feelings one can feel, but the pragmatic subject knows insurance exists. I analyse it as chances for a re-do. After spending four years with the first Sanity Machine, how would I construct the second one?
Both V1. 0 and V2. 0 are( I use the present tense because I choose to believe that V1. 0, which had my last name smoothed into the top tube, is out there somewhere and someday my eBay alert for a “Mosaic Fretz” will come up good) located approximately on the geometry of the original Scott Foil, which I desired. It’s extremely race-bike traditional — 56 cm top tube, 160 mm foreman tubing, 56 mm of way. The couplers apparently do the bike stiffer, and I’ve never had any complaints in this department. I like my road bikes to feel like race bikes and Aaron did a moderately phenomenal responsibility at that.
I didn’t paint it because Ti doesn’t need to be depicted and, if at all possible, movement bikes shouldn’t have paint. They go in very small pockets or caskets on a regular basis. Instead, I had matte logoes sandblasted on, kept it subtle, and if it gets too scratched up I’ll just have Mosaic blast it again and it will gape good as new.
There’s a small error in the “Handcrafted in Boulder, CO” badge at the bottom of the down tube. Whoever did the masking forgot to take a bit of strip off the inside of the second largest little e in Boulder. I like this; it reminds me that Mosaic busted ass to get me the motorcycle ahead of last year’s Tour de France. I like to think that little filled-in e, the one imperfection on the whole frame, is responsible for me coming the bike exactly 48 hours before I left for France and a few cases weeks ahead of their normal lead time.
This section is sort of interesting, for the bike geeks out there. The life of a hasten motorcycle isn’t like the life of a residence bicycle. I once lost the crank bolt for a deep-seated of Super Record cranks at the start of the Giro and the motorcycle wasn’t functional again until the end of the third week. I practically started mad. Things that you have been able sterilize easily at home — or your supermarket could — can in a foreign country with limited time to actually get to a supermarket become insurmountable barriers to riding, when all you want to do is get out for a ride.
So , no disc restraint.
I’ve traveled with hydraulic disc restraint quite a bit. Nine period out of 10, it goes penalty. One time out of 10, you kink a hose, or the caliper block sinks out and the pistons push in, or something else weird happens and you need to do a bleed. Have you ever tried bleeding brakes in a hotel area? I don’t recommend it.
But I travel this bicycle in all sorts of peculiar places, often accidentally off street. I once did a curve before a stagecoach of the Giro that was about an hour long, and 50 instants in I time needed to pop over a small hill to get back to the hotel. I’d mapped it out abusing Strava’s heat maps. Which, it is about to change, pictured so much heat because this last 5 km was on a marathon mountain bike course. So my alternatives were to ride 25 km back around, or huck it on my 25 s.( Undoubtedly, I hucked it .)
This is a roundabout way of saying I wanted to be able to run 32 mm tires, but also wanted to run rim restraint, which in turn requires some talent. Most custom rim brake bikes these days are built with an Enve fork that are appropriate no greater than a 28.
I sourced a forking from Specialized that would normally go on their Tarmac. I knew that this fork, in its direct-mount variant, could fit a 32. That was one pinch point sorted.
For the brakes themselves, I gazed to Cane Creek and their EEbrakes. These are silly expensive, but, hey, coverage money is great, and they leave tons of apartment for a big tire. They’re likewise super potent. I enjoy them. I grabbed a direct-mount front and normal-mount rear. For the rear brake connection I simply asked Aaron to raise it as high as he could, and it too easily fits a 32.
I’d love to say I pondered long and hard-boiled about what drivetrain to run, but current realities is I just wanted something mechanical. Simplicity is key. I don’t want to be diagnosing battery troubles at 6am as the sunbathe rises over the Massif Central and all I want in the whole wide world is to enjoy those two half-hearted interludes and inevitable hound sprint.
Sanity Machine V1. 0 had Campagnolo Super Record, left over from a test, and I’ve love to run that again. It was exquisite.
Currently, V2. 0 is running SRAM Red2 2. I like doubled tap. I have 50/34 chainrings on there and an 11 -3 2 cassette, which is outside SRAM’s recommended straddle, but it projects punishment. The low gears are because I do dumb things like try to ride the Mortirolo before breakfast.
The shift and rear damper cables separate employing helpful splitters sold by S& S. The backside restraint cable splits right behind the top tubing coupler, and the two shift cables separate right in front of the bottom bracket. The splitters have big rubber grommets that are supposed to keep them from pinging against your make but they still ping, so I poke a little of the fuzzy side of velcro underneath them.
Have I ever rolled apart without re-connecting my brake cable? Why yes, yes I have.
The rotates are a pair of Enve 4.5 s built on Chris King hubs. They’re a bit extremely deep, to be honest, but they’re also fast as heck and I like them. I sometimes make these off and wandering with basic aluminum Bontrager rotates, precisely to be safe. But I haven’t moved anywhere in a while.
Specialized’s Turbo Cotton Hell of the North are the best road tire I’ve ever exploited. They merely are now in 28 mm, which is sad, but I still run them often. They journey like a scoot tire but have a bit of additional rubber and a thin stab airstrip, so they’re tough to flat. I bid they realise them in 30 or 32 mm.
The bar and stanch are from Ritchey, and half the root bars have gone missing at one time or another so don’t judge their creatively sourced replacements. Classic-bend prohibits hurt my hands but soothe my soul, which is a tradeoff I’m willing to fix.
If you inspect closely, one of the bar end pushes is missing. I thought about changing it before I took photos, but thought that would be disingenuous as this is a travel bike and at least one forbid resolve plug is always missing.
I left some spacers on top of the stanch because V1. 0 was slammed, when I was 25, and V2. 0 is up a centimetre, as I’m now 32, and I presuppose I’ll need those spacers before I quit cycling journalism.
As I write this, we should have been six stages into the Tour de France. Generally, in the confusion of the pre-Tour workload and chaotic early stages, the issue is when I’d get my first journey in.
Tonight I would be necessary to staying in the Grand Hotel de France, 10 Place Jean Sequier, Meyrueis, France. I’ve stayed there before. There aren’t many inns in this region, and this one is a find. There’s a road to the north, D986, that squiggles up the two sides of one of the massif’s vast canyons. The first 15 instants I would have been slightly hungover, as yesterday’s stage was a doozy and Rupe and I were certainly up late podcasting and writing and imbibing. The last 15 times would have been spent dropping back into Meyrueis and then trying to find the hotel. The middle 20 might perhaps be the most wonderful 20 all time.
Frameset: Mosaic RT1 Headset: Cane Creek Wheelset: Chris King R45, Enve 4.5 rims Shifters: SRAM Red2 2 Crankset: SRAM Red Bottom bracket: SRAM Red Rear derailleur: SRAM Red2 2 Cassette: SRAM Red XG-1190 11 -3 2T Chain: Shimano Ultegra Tyres: Specialized Turbo Cotton Hell of the North 28 mm Handlebar: Ritchey Neo Classic Stem: Ritchey WCS, 120 mm Seatpost: Woodman topper Cages: King Kage SS Bar videotape: Black Saddle: Specialized Mirror 143 Pedals: Look Keo Blade Skewers: Enve Accessories: K-Edge Wahoo organize Bike force: No idea
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