The Great Brake Debate

There exists a divide between seasoned bicycle enthusiasts and the casual rider. At the center of this disagreement is the front brake, and what exactly it's role is. It is the position of many expert cyclists that the front brake should be the primary brake to be used in the majority of stopping scenarios. Many more casual riders, by contrast, will tell you simply that the front brake's only purpose is to send the rider flying over the handlebars and into certain death*. So who's right? Well, let's break it down and look at the facts: The front brake has significantly more stopping power than the rear brake. This isn't an opinion, but rather simple physics. As you force deceleration on a bike, your weight shifts forward, off of the back wheel and onto the front. The back wheel loses traction while the front wheel gains it. It's testable and repeatable: All else being equal, a front brake will always slow you down quicker.

[* This never actually happens.]

But should it be one's primary brake? That's a little less clear to me. After two years of riding fixed-gear bikes with only a front brake assigned to the right (primary) hand, I was ready to believe that it should be. After all, I have come to many emergency stops on my fixies with a front brake and never had trouble. So when it came time for me to route the brakes on my touring bike, I made the bold decision to reverse the levers from the conventional standard, and put my front brake on the right, and the rear brake on the left. The idea, of course, being that my right hand is my go-to hand, capable of more strength and subtlety than my left, and that it should be assigned to my primary brake, my front brake.

So how'd that go, you ask? Well, on my first ride, I fell sideways onto the ground at an intersection. Less than ideal. I was going very slowly, riding the brakes and making a slow left turn to cross the street. My front tire hit a patch of sand and the bike when right out from under me. The reason is obvious, it's because my front brake was applied, and when the wheel locked up on loose sand, I lost control of my steering. Had my front wheel been free to rotate, it would have likely rolled freely over it at my intended trajectory. And it got me thinking, why doesn't this sort of thing happen to me all the time on my fixed-gears, with only a front brake? The answer is that although there is only a front brake on my fixies, it is not my primary means of deceleration and stopping. Rather, my legs are, and my legs affect the back wheel. That's why I could ride during blizzards on a fixed gear without problems, but wipe-out within hours on a bike with a freewheel and a front brake.

The late, great Sheldon Brown disagrees with me, stating plainly that the front brake is the primary brake and should be used in the majority of situations. I agree with a lot of his logic and practical experience. Him and I also agree that the front brake is dangerous when applied on slippery or bumpy terrain. The difference is that he seems to see such terrain as an exception to the norm, and not something that can occur unexpectedly at any given moment. All of my riding is on road bikes, on city streets and paved bike paths, but I still encounter sand and dirt regularly. In the spring time, in a region where the roads get covered with sand and salt in the winter, it is impossible to avoid it. And if one assumes that the majority of one's braking is simple speed regulation, and not emergency stopping, doesn't it make sense to keep the front wheel spinning freely, rolling calmly over unexpected obstacles? I ended up on the ground because I was using the front brake for just that, simple speed regulation, and not emergency stopping. The rear brake would have been just as effective, with the added benefit of keeping me upright and unbruised.

I do not debate the importance of a front brake on any bicycle that is to be used seriously. I go for entire long rides on my fixies without touching the brake, but I know it's there to stop me if I should need it. Whichever hand the front brake lever is on, I advise every cyclist to learn to use it effectively. But in all this front-brake celebration, let us not forget how useful and practical a rear brake can be. As for me, I immediately switched back the levers on my touring bike: Front on the left, rear on the right. I intend on keeping it that way.

This morning, I went out to the Great Maine Bike Swap at USM. The doors opened at 10am, and I was due into work at 10:30. Needless to say, I was a bit hurried and I didn't walk away with my arms quite as full as I'd done on previous years. That said, I did make a few key purchases. Perhaps more noteworthy than what I was able to get are the things I convinced myself not to. I was all ready to buy this weird orange Italian bike from the 60s, but I backed out literally at the last possible moment. Instead, I went to the tables and bought a couple discount parts that I have immediate uses for. If this is a sign of my bicycle enthusiasm maturing, then we can all breath a small sigh of relief.

Being outside on a beautiful morning, surrounded by bicycles and bicycle enthusiasts made me feel happy and slightly more awake than I have been all winter, even though I was running on two and a half hours of shaky acid-reflux sleep. It reminded me of this blog I'd started, and how I once had this ambition to do something with it. Well, here goes nothing. Is it a faux pas to draw attention to an inaugural post? I don't really follow these things. Among other things, the idea I had for this blog was to document various bicycle projects I involve myself in. I build at least a few bikes every year, and it's a process I love. I've got a lot of things waiting on the wings this year, so I don't anticipate a shortage of material.

PROJECT #1: Univega Gran Turismo (A.K.A. "The Touring Bike")

Last summer, I rode my fixed gear bike about 40 miles up the coast of Maine between Portland and Bath. It was the furthest I've ever ridden on a bike, and I did it in one constant gear ratio with no coasting. It's something I remain very proud of. While I am glad for the experience of having done it on a fixed gear, it made me aware in a very real sense just what the limitations of myself on a fixie are. Since I hope to go even further, I knew I wanted to get a bike that was made for these applications. As luck would have it, I stumbled upon this bike around the same time I was having those thoughts. It was in the living room of this guy while I was at his house buying some other bike. He had previously expressed interest in my Specialized Sirrus, so I offered it as a direct trade. I have little doubt that he emerged at the objective victor in that trade, but I came away from it with something much more suited to my priorities, not to mention, a touring bike that is nearly a match to my fixed gear commuter.

Despite being a very nice bike, it is nonetheless an old bike. The more one evaluates it's features, the more plainly apparent this fact becomes. Being a product of the mid-80s, it just barely (and quite frustratingly) predates a number of important shifts in industry standards:

• 27" rims (as opposed to 700c, which became industry standard somewhere around the turn of the decade)
• 6-speed Thread-on freewheel, 126mm spacing (as opposed to a freehub with a cassette, which became standard in the 90s. 6-speed was also an awkward transitional step, with many better shifting options available in the 7-speed era. 126mm spacing means that any modern hub would require the frame to coldset in order to fit. Not impossible or expensive, but a pain just the same.)
• Suntour friction shifters and derailers (predating Shimano's stranglehold on the industry. Not bad parts, but not as good as the Shimano stuff that would have been available just a few years later.)
• Non-aero brake levers (as opposed to, of course, aero brake levers.)
• Spacing between chainrings too wide for most modern chains, as it predates the shift to 7+ speed drivetrains.

It is not my intention to completely rebuild this bike. On the contrary, I've set myself the rather modest goal of making it work as well as I can with the bare minimum of necessary upgrades. It's an exercise in restraint that frankly I'm long overdue for. After spending nearly 500 dollars last year on a bike that I was given for free, I should prove to myself, and everyone else, that I can make things work on the cheap too. Having said that, I will not skimp on the things that need to be done.

Tonight I overhauled the "cockpit", as it's sometimes referred. That is, the handlebars and all things attached and directly associated. I'm notoriously good at forgetting to take before pictures, so you'll have to believe me that the difference is radical. After realizing that all my favorite bikes have sort of medium length stems, and that this one had sort of an excessively long stem, I dug through my spare parts and found one about an inch shorter, marked "Fuji" and originally found in a box full of bike parts beside the trash dump. I removed the original dia-compe levers (cool though they were) with a set of Shimano 700 aero levers that I acquired today at the Bike Swap. These are complimented with a set of Cane Creek Crosstop interrupter levers. I only got to test it on a quick, stupidly chilly ride as the sun was going down, but it's quite comfortable.