For the last 5 or so years of living in London, I’ve got by on a motley crew of unreliable commute bikes, piecing together old broken frames with hand-me-down componentry and bottom-dollar bits. I’ve only ever ridden nice, smooth bikes on the weekend. No longer.
Anyhow, I’ve now ridden the bike home. First impressions:
it’s heavy (frankly)
pretty wishy-washy steering BUT
it’s sturdy
it’s fast
the brakes are solid
it fits
The steering issue is probably more to do with my having ridden a bike with bent forks for 18 months, and I’ll get used to it over time. I’ve now fitted mudguards, SPDs and light mounts – bring on the autumn!
I passed this bike chained to a railing on Mortimer Street today. It was a near-mint condition 1995 Kona Lava Dome in midnight blue, the exact same bike I received for Christmas in 1995. This was the rig that truly launched my lifelong love of bikes and biking.
I’m just going to pause a moment to remember this bike, and how great it was (for me, and probably a generation of others):
the Lava Dome was – up until 2007, when it was mysteriously retired – the classic entry-level MTB in the Kona stable, RRP £500.
the 1995 version had stunning understated good looks (IMHO Kona’s paint jobs have just got gaudier – check out the offensive 2006 version, perhaps the reason why it didn’t sell and Kona withdrew it?).
the Tange Infinity cromoly double butted frame, with its signature sloping top tube and tight rear triangle, rode like a dream – it climbed well, it loved singletrack.
I had this bike for 11 years. A few highlights from its rise and fall:
1996: upgrade to Pace RC35 suspension forks
1996: 6 days bike touring in the Scottish highlands
1997: flew with me to Vancouver, Canada for a year of north shore trail-riding
1998: 24 hours of Adrenalin, Whistler, B.C.
1998: big bike tour down the west coast of the US, hitting some classic singletrack in Washington and Oregon
1998: frame bent on the flight back to UK, cannibalised for bits
1998-2001: frame hangs in my shed in Stoke
2002: the Lava Dome returns as a singlespeed hack for the streets of Edinburgh
2003-06: the hack moves to London
2006: after weeks of cracking, the frame snaps at the rear drive-side drop-out. The broken frame is deposited in a skip near Brick Lane.
Surveying the damage up close in 2006.
You can imagine the rollercoaster of emotions I experienced on seeing this bike in the street. Frankly, I was on the phone to somebody and had to hang up. I realised that I would pay over the odds to ride this bike again. If it’s yours, leave a comment!
View Kona Lava Dome in a larger map
Post-Marmotte, I’ve enjoyed a month of downtime. I’ve found this period invaluable in recovering both physically and mentally, not so much from the event itself, but from the six-month build-up to it.
January to June of this year, I organised my life around the bike. Now clearly, I like cycling; but, in the weeks after achieving the biggest goal I’ve (so far) set myself on the bike, being free from the mental focus of preparing for the event has been a serious load off. Just having the option of riding, if I feel like it, is a luxury. Being able to drink to excess is, once again, a guilt-free pleasure. The gratuitous eating of cake at office parties – a delirious indulgence.
Predictably, since I returned from France, I’ve been on excellent form, so I’ve certainly been out on the bike – but not mid-week, and not if I didn’t feel like it. Mainly, I’ve been hammering my busted commute bike (nope, still haven’t broken it yet) around town at high speeds. I’ve also been out for a couple of rides with Millsy (who’s heading to the Pyrenees this week following a strong performance in the London Triathlon).
I went out yesterday for a 5-hour solo mission, and again, felt strong. I’ve been refusing all requests to enter further sportives this year, but now I’m not so sure…
Just days, yes days, after I sold the Muni-Mula frame, this happens. Loud creaking suddenly developed while riding my hack from work to Fulham last Tuesday. Dismounting, I discovered a big crack in the frame where the top tube joins the seat tube.
My hack bike is the one I commute on. Here she is, the Ballistic, in all her filthy glory (and in high-contrast black and white to emphasise her gritty street credentials). Robust and uncomplaining, the Ballistic has seen me through two years of hardcore inner-London riding. She’s caked in dirt and oil, the grips are worn out, the forks are bent (a slight late-night mishap, I’m not going into it), the rear hub rattles and the saddle always slips back on the seatpost. But she’s light, nimble, and capable of serious speed when properly worked.
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