My Process

In case you’re wondering why my bikes cost a bit more than the average Craigslist clunker, here’s a little bit about what I do with them.

Well, first, we should talk a little about how years of use and/or storage can affect a bike, i.e. what's typically in need of repair or replacement on a used bike. Just like cars, bikes benefit from routine maintenance; instead of oil changes, it's chain lubing, tire inflation, wheel truing, brake pad replacement, etc. However, for some reason I have yet to discover, most folks never bring their bikes in for tune-ups, at least not until something breaks. The result is a bike that ages prematurely, just like your aunt who smokes two packs a day. The drive train gets gritty and worn down, derailleurs and brakes get knocked out of alignment possibly causing further damage, and so on.

On the other hand, some folks almost never ride their bikes. Some may even hang their bikes in a nice dry, cool spot in the garage for years. This is a best-case scenario. But even in this case, the sidewalls of tires can dry out and crack, the grease surrounding all the bearings on the bike can dry out, handlebar tape can tear, and rust may even set in, in some climates.

In my experience, about 5% of private sellers will address these issues before passing on their used bikes to new owners. Bottom line: nearly all used bikes on Craigslist need work. Heck even most of the used bikes sold by reputable shops still need a lot of work to get them into prime working order. (I know because I've had recent buyers bring their bike-shop-bought used bikes to me for work.)

Here's where I come in. I do something that makes no financial sense whatsoever (but a lot of common sense).

Basically, I treat every bike I work on as if it were my own pet project. I aim to get every bike riding smooth as silk and looking fantastic. To do so I put in a ridiculous amount of mechanical and cosmetic detail work. (Let me be clear: I don't want to imply that my bikes are lavish, pull-out-all-the-stops restorations, because those bikes typically cost thousands of dollars. I stop short of wet-repaints with professionally printed decals and new-old-stock Campagnolo parts because that stuff is for collectors, not for people who actually ride their bikes.) Suffice it to say that I spend hours and hours working on things that you'll probably never take note of, per se. If you were to walk in on me plucking spokes like harp strings to optimize their tension for a stronger wheel or snipping the end of a piece of cable housing with nail clippers to get a perfectly clean, frictionless opening, you'd instantly know what I mean. I pay neurotic attention to detail.

Now, if you want more details...

When I get a bike, the first thing I do is clean it. I’m very thorough (read: compulsive) here. I wash the wheels (and tires if I plan to reuse them) with soapy water (taking care not to spray water into the bearings of course); I scrub the frame clean with a super-mild abrasive that also polishes it up a bit; I overhaul the rear derailleur, cleaning the individual pieces before reassembling; if I plan to reuse the freewheel I use my patented “flossing technique” to clean the cogs; I disassemble the crankset and degrease the chainrings; all moving parts, from derailleurs to shifters to brakes, get lubed; all naked aluminum gets polished; all rusty steel gets deoxidized and often given a protective coat too… well, you get the idea.

Then, I overhaul the bearings: bottom bracket, headset, hubs. If the bottom bracket is worn out, I replace it with a modern sealed unit. Otherwise, I use high-quality grease and I freepack the bearings for minimal friction. If the cone nuts are pitted, I replace them with equivalent ones. This process of overhauling is something that bike shops only really do on premium tune-ups and they charge and arm and a leg for it.

I put everything back together, replacing consumables like the chain, brake pads, and tires with new, high-quality stuff (Kool Stop pads, Panaracer tires, etc.). Joints get oiled, derailleur hangers get aligned,  I make sure that shifting and braking are smooth on the stand. Then it's time for a bit of wheel work. After lubing the spoke nipple-rim interface, I true and round the wheels, then I even out the spoke tension, then true and round them again. I verify wheel dish, and if I've added gears in the back and respaced the axle accordingly, then I re-dish the wheel to ensure accurate tracking.

Then I go for a short test ride to make sure that everything feels right on the road.

↑ Same frame ↓

I should note that this whole process is punctuated by frequent and extended breaks during which I quietly sip my tea or coffee and stare at the bike. I take measurements to gauge the geometry of the frame, to figure out what it’s best suited for, what size tires and/or fenders it can accommodate, and so forth. I think about what color bar wrap would look best, and which style of handlebars and which gearing ratios and shifter type would be best suited for the purpose that I have in mind. Slowly, a vision of the bike that it will be forms in my head.

When it’s complete, I try to take an extended test ride or two. Sometimes I decide I don’t like the cockpit or the gearing or whatever and I go back to the drawing board. When I’m satisfied, I clean and polish everything. Then I take pictures and off to Craigslist she goes. While the bike is up for sale I continue to ride it. I tell myself that it’s because I want to work out any tiny kinks and make absolutely sure that everything is up to my standards, but more likely it’s because I enjoy riding the bikes that I’ve restored. It’s one of the best perks of this hobby.