… all the internal hub bikes I have tested seem too upright after that lightweight speedster, and i have developed an affinity for madly dashing about for adrenalin and time reasons. You mention that you set a pretty leisurely pace, but I’d be interested to hear your impressions when riding your Breezer vs. your other bikes with a more aero position.

Anyway, the Breezer is definitely at the top of my list. My biggest issue with the Breezer, though, is the v brakes. Disc brakes seem like such an improvement, or even hub brakes like the REI competition has, that i’m puzzled why Joe went with rim brakes. Do you have any insight on this issue, or comments on why you like/dislike the brakes?

Nathan, thanks a lot for the great questions.

You correctly infer that I am no speed demon — my major goal on most rides, in fact, is to avoid sweating.

That being said, I do ride a Bridgestone XO-1 with mustache bars, and have ridden a nice 12-speed with drop bars. Both provide a more aerodynamic riding position, and I do notice a distinct difference on the Breezer, mostly on (ahem) breezy days — it’s tough to “get below” the wind, and I usually just get into first gear and spin.

One might be able to get a flatter position on an Uptown 8 by putting bar-ends on the flat part of the bars near the stem. I haven’t tried this, but I have considered it. Breezer did this on their new $2,000 bike, the Finesse.

The Breezer is designed for a certain type of cycling that fits with the upright position — getting-from-here-to-there riding, as opposed to the speed/fitness/special shoes/screen-printed jersey riding. Asking the Uptown 8 to perform as a go-fast bike would be a little like saddling up a draft horse to round up cattle.

On to your second question: I like the V-brakes just fine, although the original pads seemed to wear out pretty fast for me. Disc brakes have always seemed to me like needless complication — more moving parts, more opportunity for things to go wrong, special wheels required. I have never used them, but I have read favorable reviews and have no reason to disbelieve them.

I don’t know why Joe went with the V-brakes, but I suspect it was one of those cost-benefit issues that come up whenever he specs a bike. (The Finesse , on which price is far less of a concern, has disc brakes.)

This might sound too short and sweet, but the truth is, the V-brakes do what I need them to do (and I have ridden with them in all weather),  so I give them thumbs-up.

I have forwarded the V-brakes question to Joe, and I will publish his response if he chooses to answer.

Bush and I talked it over, and he agreed to sell me the XO-1 frame AND build it up for me, for some ridiculously low price — I remember it being less than $300.

It would be built of parts salvaged from two previous commuting bikes — an early-1980s Bianchi Grizzly mountain bike that died of a cracked chainstay, and a Fuji S-10-S that perished in a crash.

Bush brought the XO-1 frame into the shop, and we put my wheels on it to make sure there would be enough clearance for the tires I had.

There was, barely. And sure enough, it was the 59 cm size. It would be a perfect fit.

Here’s the history of the parts:

From the Bianchi Grizzly:

• Wheels
• Cassette
• Crankset, pedals and toe clips

From the S-10-S:

• Brake levers and brakes
• Stem
• Saddle
• Rear derailer
• Bar-end shifters
• Chain
• Deflector

From Bush:

• Mustache handlebars
• Front derailer

********

Bush had me over to see how the build-up was going.

Three bikes (including mine) were under construction on the hardwood floor of his apartment, with tools and parts around them. He showed me his copy of the 1992 Bridgestone catalog.

It was clear then, as it is clear now, that he was doing a beautiful job. For example, I would find that not only were the shifting and braking tuned just about perfectly, but the cables were neatly trimmed to the right length — not too long — and capped.

He must have gotten tired of me saying thanks.

Nevertheless, I’ll say it again:

Thanks, Bush, for your generosity and attention to detail.

********

The mustache bars took some getting used to, and I raised the stem and adjusted the angle a little. But that was about all the bike needed from me.

Now, my XO-1 reminds me of past rides on well-used, well-loved bikes.

When I ride it, I think about Bush’s craftsmanship. I enjoy running a piece of cycling history across rutted trails and city streets.

It is a constant source of simple pleasure.

Hey, Bush — did I remember to say thanks?

I learned the lore online, by reading e-mails and links from the Internet Bridgestone Owners’ Bunch.

Sure, I would’ve loved to have one. Who wouldn’t?

The thing is, the XO-1 came out for only two years, 1992 and 1993, and there were just 1,000 made each year.

Its rarity is part of its appeal.

*********

So one day in a local bike shop, I noticed this clerk looking at me funny. I didn’t recognize him at all, but it turned out to be an old acquaintance named Bush, who had worked at the shop years before.

Bush shared my affinity for old steel frames and friction-shifting. We had talked bikes and quoted Grant Peterson to each other, and I’d admired the Bridgestone RB-1 frame he bought off E-bay.

*********

Now Bush was back — much lighter, and clean-shaven. He looked like a completely different guy. We caught up a little. In the course of conversation, either then or later, he happened to mention that he had an XO-1 that he never rode.

He casually related that he had been thinking about putting it on EBay … but, well, he would rather sell it to someone who would appreciate it.

It was the largest size (which would fit me perfectly).

Would I be interested?

Hmm … let me think about it …

Well … YES …

It was NOT a dark and stormy night, which meant I had no excuses when I rolled through the stop sign at a pretty good clip, smacked the car’s front fender, catapulted over the handlebars, rolled across the hood, and landed in the street …

*****************************************

I found the Fuji S-10-S at a yard sale. The owner wanted $20. I already had a couple of bikes, and it was just a bit small for me, so I left it there.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Later that Saturday, I returned to the sale. I think I got the bike for $12. It still had the original Primus frame pump. “I guess it was just waiting for someone who would appreciate it,” the former owner told me as I wheeled the Fuji to the minivan.

I did appreciate it. Later I would find out that this was a historically significant bike — one of the first mass-marketed by the Japanese in the United States during the bike boom of the 1970s. It had a six-speed freewheel. I e-mailed Internet bike guru Sheldon Brown to ask his opinion about whether it was worth fixing up. He thought it was.

I lovingly worked on the bike over the next couple of years, replacing the bottom bracket, trying out new tires, buying a high-rise stem to get the handlebars up to a comfortable height, finding some bar-end shifters in the old-parts bin at a local bike shop, adding a new freewheel and chain, adjusting some brand-new-yet-old-fashioned Dia Compe brake levers … I learned a lot by working on that bike. (The pictures are before the stem and bar-enders.)

After finding three shiny cable guides at a shop in Lincoln, Nebraska, during a fun outing with my dad, the S-10-S finally looked and rode like I wanted it to. And it was a sweet ride. The frame, light and flexible, seemed to work with me as I pedaled.

One Saturday not long after the Fuji was finally dialed in, I took off for work on it. It was a partly cloudy, cool day, a great day for a ride. Then again, they all are.

Since traffic is normally pretty light in my neighborhood in the middle of a Saturday afternoon, I didn’t bother to stop at the stop sign less than two blocks from my house. I picked up speed around a corner and started rolling through the sign to make a left turn. I looked left and looked right.

I looked left again … just in time to see a red sports car that might as well have risen straight up out of the pavement.

WHAM!

My front tire hit the fender. The driver had braked when she saw me, but I had no chance.

Over the bars, and over the car’s hood, I went. I rolled, landing on my left shoulder and smacking my helmet in the middle of the street.

Because traffic was light, I had time to get up and stumble out of the way.

The driver, a woman, was shaken. I tried to calm her down a little. I gave her my name and phone number, in case the car needed to be fixed. (Providentially, I barely scratched it, and she never called.)

Then, ugh, I examined the bike. The front wheel bent like a taco shell. The front fork ends pointed in divergent directions. (As you can see at right, they used to be so pretty!) The killer was, I could see the paint flaking off the top tube and downtube right behind the head tube.

The frame was done for.

I carried the bike home in dismay. The frame hung in the garage for more than a year before I could bear to part with it.

I was sorry to see that Fuji go, but I would have been more sorry if I had not been wearing a helmet.

The helmet cracked when it hit the pavement. That would have been my head.

I dinged my shoulder a little. That was it.

It could have been so much worse, in so many ways.

I’m glad it was the bike, and not me. But I did love that bike. Many of its parts now live on my Bridgestone XO-1.

What did I do wrong?

I rolled through the stop sign when I should have stopped, or at least slowed down.

I was not careful. It was just that simple. I am now.

And while I checked the street to either side of me, I did not check the driveway across the street. That’s where the car came from. I just completely missed it.

Sometimes looking both ways is not enough. I needed to look three ways, and then look again.

Now, I try to do that.

What did I do right? I wore a helmet. This wreck could have resulted in a serious head injury.

Also, I took responsibility for the crash. It was my fault, and I deserved to pay.

I am glad I didn’t have to.

*************************

It might seem strange to write about crashes on a site promoting bicycle commuting, but let’s face it, crashes can happen. We riders can do a lot to prevent them. We don’t always do all we can. Here’s how I see it: I have learned a couple of things the hard way. If I tell you about it, maybe you won’t have to. Read about my other crash.

Most bike reviews I have seen are written after a single test ride, or after a few rides shortly after the purchase. These are my impressions based on riding the bike several times a week for more than a year:

While standing over the top tube, ready to push off and pedal, the first thing I notice is the position of the handlebars. They bend toward me at a natural angle, easing my wrists into a comfortable position as I put my hands on the handgrips.

The bell sits within reach of my left thumb, and I get to the twist-shifter for the 8-speed internal hub by moving my right hand a couple of inches.

I start pedaling. As I roll the shifter toward me (like a motorcycle throttle) to upshift, it clicks. That’s the only noise from shifting — the 8-speed hub does the rest of the work without a sound. The only noise the bike makes is the light whir of tires on pavement.

There’s nothing to notice about the seat, and that’s good — it gives where it needs to and supports where it needs to.

I can lean forward a bit and reach down, with a quick downward glance, to turn on the switch on my headlight while pedaling. The V-brakes over the months have gotten a bit mushy, and they could use an adjustment, but they do what I need them to do. I can shift into a lower gear while stopped — a particularly nice feature of the internal hub.

Because of the upsloping top tube and the sweep of the handlebars, I maintain a comfortable upright position. There is very little weight on my hands. It’s not aerodynamic, but I’m not racing and I’m not worried about speed; in the wind, or while going uphill, I downshift until it’s easy to pedal. My elbows are slightly bent. It’s easy to keep my head on a swivel to survey the traffic around me.

The position is so good, in fact, that it’s almost possible to forget I’m on a bike. I’ll find myself thinking about something else, then coming back with pleasure to the realization that I am still riding.

It is the feeling you can get only on a bike that is dialed in for you, in a good marriage of utility and design. (Just as with any bike, it takes some adjusting of the seat and stem height to get the Breezer set up just right. The bike comes in four sizes; get the biggest one you can straddle comfortably — in other words, the biggest one you can stand over without hurting yourself, if you take my meaning. When you get the biggest size that you can comfortably stand over, you won’t have to raise the seat or the stem much to get a good riding position.)

The tires and suspension seatpost eat up the bumps, allowing for a smooth ride. The bike is not exactly agile around corners, but it’s not clumsy, either. It’s not “racy.” It’s steady, predictable, but still … fun.

In a comment on one of my earlier posts, Joe M. of Los Alamos, N.M., put it this way:

I don’t know a good way to describe this, but the Breezer is just plain fun to ride. Simple-intuitive, and it really brings back the thrill when I was 9 years old on my banana-seat Schwinn.

In short, this is a great city ride — perfect for keeping your head up in traffic, nice for an unhurried pace (although it’s gone as fast as I’ve needed it to), and ideal for taking the turbulence out of a bad piece of pavement.

This was a subject of a post yesterday. (Here is the full archive of Uptown 8 posts so far.)

Breeze sent me an e-mail after I asked for permission to publish the message in yesterday’s post. I continue to be impressed by Breeze’s responsiveness to his customers. Here’s what he told me:

I actually was able to shoe-horn a chaincase onto an earlier Breezer (and it already had a bracket hole on the inboard side of the chainstay), but I wouldn’t wish this exercise on anyone. It took all day and results were marginal.

The NEW Uptown8 frame (first available in 2007) is designed specifically for the chaincase. The rear dropouts are such that the axle is on center with the chainstay. The inboard side of the chainstay also has an attachment point for the rear of the chaincase. Early frames had the axle about 15mm lower than the chainstay. Some even had the bracket hole.

In fact, all 2007 Breezer Town (Uptown 8, Villager, Citizen, Freedom) frames have the in-line type of dropouts and bracket hole on the inboard side of the chainstay near the right rear dropout.

I hope that helps.

So I’m sure this after-market modification can be done, but somebody else is going to have to do it. I have enough projects going, plus I’m not a great wrench. Competent, but not great. If it took Joe Breeze all day, it would take me at least twice that long, and I’m pretty sure my results would be far more marginal than his.

If anybody HAS attempted this maneuver, please drop me a note and describe the experience — I’ll be happy to pass it along.

Not to beat this subject even further into the ground, but my next question to Breezer on this subject would be: If somebody does want to try this, how do they get the chaincase, and how much would it cost? If/when I find out, I will let you know.

The bottom line: If you want a full chaincase on an Uptown 8, I’d advise taking the path of least resistance and making sure you get the newer model.

Then again: I heartily advise that the lack of this nice part is no reason to rule out the older model, because the partial chainguard works great as well.

(Incidentally, this whole subject reminds me of Alex Wetmore’s interesting do-it-yourself chaincase story, involving a Trek 400 and a Pashley chaincase.)

[[Find more about the Breezer Uptown 8, including a ride report and more about the bike's features and benefits.]]

Breezer started putting the full chaincase on this year’s models, and I had hoped to get one for mine. (The picture of the full chaincase, left, is from Breezer’s Web site; the picture on the right is my bike.)

Here’s the news straight from the company:

Hello,

Thank you for checking in with us and for riding a Breezer. However,
I’m sorry to inform you that your Uptown does not accommodate the new
chain case. The new models with the chain case have special attachment
points built onto the frame for the chain case that your bike is
missing. So as I have done before, the best I can do is suggest that if
you really want a chain case you find a friend or family member who you
can gift your current Breezer to before buying a new one . This has
actually been done before.

Thanks again for checking in,

Mitch @ Breezer

Too bad! Hmm. I guess I could try drilling the holes myself …

[[Find more information about the Breezer Uptown 8, including a ride report and more about the bike's features and benefits.]]

Here are 8 reasons I love my Breezer Uptown 8:

1. The Shimano Nexus 8-speed internal hub makes life simpler. This hub puts all the gearing inside the hub of the rear wheel, rather than relying on a derailer to move the chain back and forth on a stack of chainrings.

Since the derailer hangs off the bike frame by the back wheel, it can bend, or clog with ice or dirt. The internal hub eliminates these problems. Also, the internal hub lets you shift when you are stopped. (You can appreciate this if you’ve tried to start riding in a high gear after a stoplight turns green with a line of cars behind you.)

There are two grades of Shimano Nexus 8-speed hubs, and Breezer uses the best model, which is lighter and uses better bearings than its cheaper cousin. You can tell them apart because the top-grade hub has a red band around it. (If you want technical info, Sheldon has the service manual.)

2. A great lighting system lets me be seen. If you don’t want battery-powered lights, you have two basic options: a hub generator (contained in the hub of the front wheel), or a bottle generator or dynamo (which rubs against the tire).

A few years ago, I got a bottle generator. I spent a lot of time tweaking and fiddling with it. I even switched out its rubber roller for an all-weather metal roller. But I never could get it to work right.

I have found the hub generator to be practically idiot-proof, as long as the shop wires it correctly. Whenever the wheel is turning, power is available for the lights.

The Breezer’s front hub powers both a headlight and a taillight. The headlight has an on-off switch, and a “sensor” setting that lets the light turn on or shut off depending on the level of natural light at the time. (Others have written that they feel a drag in the front wheel when from the generator hub when they turn the headlight on. I don’t.)

Every time I’m ready to ride, the lights are ready to go. No batteries. No fuss. Hop on and go.

3. When I stop, the lights stay on. This is thanks to a standlight feature in the headlight and taillight. The generator stores power so that even when the wheel stops turning, there is still enough juice to power the lights while you are stopped. This means increased visibility at a stoplight.

4. Internal wiring prevents snags. There are holes in the frame through which the wires run from the headlight to the taillight. This gives the bike a cleaner look, and makes it less likely that a wire will catch on something.

5. I can carry stuff easily on the spring-loaded rear rack. The top part of the rack has a spring on the back, so it will clamp down like alligator jaws. I had seen these but didn’t like the concept; it seemed like unnecessary complication.

I was wrong: The jaws have come in handy many times for holding my cable lock, rain jackets and empty Rubbermaid containers. It’s nice to be able to put something on the rack without having to strap it on with bungee cords.

6. The chainguard and fenders keep road gunk off me. This is crucial when you’re riding in work clothes like I do. Practical-bicyclists preach the virtues of fenders, and I am a believer — not because fenders keep me dry (if you’re riding in the rain, you’re going to get wet whether you have fenders or not), but because they keep grime off my back — and off the bike. The Breezer’s fenders are durable and wide. (I wish the front one were a little longer, because it leaves just enough space for the water to flip back toward my shoes.) The chainguard keeps the chain away from your pants — no grease marks, and no need to roll up your pantleg.

7. The saddle keeps my tuckus happy. It finds the balance between ass-hatchet and barcalounger. There are some pretty ridiculous entries in the “comfortable saddle” market. Some of those things could pass for helicopter landing pads. My dad had one on his Iron Horse comfort bike, and it made me ride bowlegged — that’s hard on groin muscles and bad for the knees. The Breezer’s saddle has just the right amount of give without the excessive width.

8. Fat tires eat up the bumps. Initially, I didn’t like the Breezer’s big tires. I thought I might be subbing them out for something narrower, but now I wouldn’t trade them — they absorb most of the shock from a rutted road.

Few things in life are all sweetness and light. I have had a few problems with my Uptown 8 as well, which I will address in a future post.

[[Find more information about the Breezer Uptown 8, including a ride report and more about the bike's features and benefits.]]

When I first started bike shopping about seven years ago (because the Specialized Milano bike I had been riding to work was stolen — right out from under my carport), I knew exactly what I wanted:

A vehicle.

My wife and I had sold one of our two cars, and I needed a way to get to work. No big knobby tires required, no racing anticipated — just give me a solid, dependable companion for the daily grind of carrying a load and helping me stay safe and comfortable during 6 miles of riding.

What I didn’t want was to fool around mixing and matching accessories. Having little confidence in my mechanical abilities, I wanted everything on the bike, out of the box — including lights, fenders and a rear rack.

As it turned out, I would have had more success finding the Lost Dutchman’s Gold Mine.

It wasn’t that I couldn’t find the bikes I was looking for. I could — online. It would have been perfect … if I lived in Europe. You couldn’t buy them in the United States, even though they were manufactured by the big boys, such as Giant and Trek. I called one of these manufacturers to find out whether we could work out some kind of a deal. Sorry, they said. There’s just not enough of a commuter market in the USA.

I even called a German bike shop at one point to explore the feasibility of getting a fully-equipped commuter shipped over here. (Not feasible. Of course.)

Since I didn’t want to buy something brand new unless it met my requirements, it was off to yard sales in search of something that could be adapted. Then it was time to buy and install my own accessories.

I mixed, matched, and made do for several years — until I found the Breezer Uptown 8. (I’m riding one in the photo across the top of the page.)

The Uptown 8 is made in the USA, but it’s loaded like the European commuter bikes I had seen only in pictures. It came (and still comes) tricked out with fenders, rack, lights, a shock-absorbing seatpost — even a bell.

It also features a chain guard. Mine covers only part of the chain, which is still shown on the company Web site, but Breezer has since come out with a full chaincase for the Uptown 8.

I compared the Uptown 8 to everything else I could find online near the end of 2005. By that time there were more commuter-bike options. I narrowed my search to the Trek L300 (no longer offered, but referred to here), and REI’s Novara Fusion (pictured at left). I was seriously considering the Fusion and sent Breezer an e-mail asking if they could give me a comparison between the Uptown 8 and the Fusion.

To my amazement, I got a response from the founder of the company, Joe Breeze himself — on Christmas Eve, no less, and a follow-up on Christmas Day. Mr. Breeze sent a concise, nine-point comparison and contrast between his bike and the competition’s, including the superiority of the curved fork over the straight fork, the measurement of each bike’s rear rack, and a brief primer on gearing.

(Breeze obviously knew what he was talking about, and his bio shows why; go here and click on “Read about Joe Breeze and the history of Breezer bikes”; also here. Breeze is one of the fathers of mountain biking — that’s him at right in the early days in a photo from the Breezer Web site — and he’s now pushing my kind of riding. Incidentally: If you like theological discussions, check out the one about who invented the mountain bike.)

I test-rode the Uptown 8 at Pedal the Planet, a great local shop. When they got my size in stock, I bought it for around $960. (That might seem like a lot for a bike. It is, if you think of a bike as a toy rather than as a vehicle. I don’t — so I compare the cost of the bike to the cost of a second car. Guess which is cheaper?)

I have not been disappointed.

[[Find more about the Breezer Uptown 8, including a ride report and more about the bike's features and benefits.]]

*************

Since then, I have added another great commuter bike to the stable: A 1992 Bridgestone XO-1. The backup is a 1977 Raleigh Super Course 10-speed. Another wonderful bike, a Fuji S-10-S, did not survive a rather spectacular crash two blocks from my house (but that’s another story). The sagas of each of these bikes might give you some ideas about what would make a serviceable commuter bike for you, or how you can make your own, so I will tell about them in future posts.