Seven Cycles – Page 89 – U.S. Built Custom Bicycles in Titanium and Titanium-Carbon Mix

Behind the Mask

Nestled snug in their box, the tubes that will become my frame roll, with the jig, from machining to welding, where they wait to be claimed. Who welds each frame is a matter of chance. Whichever welder is available at the moment takes the next frame in line. In my case, that welder is Stef Adams. Coincidentally, Stef welded my other Seven back in 2005, an Elium SL, and she did such a good job with that one that my thirst for a new bike was stifled for nearly a decade.

While in the machining stage, tubes get coated with grease, dust, shavings, “permanent”marker, finger prints, oil, and who knows what else. To ensure that her welds will last a lifetime, Stef cleans each tube in a two stage acetone bath which wipes away everything, including the boastful claims of the marker. By wearing fresh, cotton gloves she keeps her own finger prints off the tubes in the process.

Sevens are TIG welded (the acronym stands for Tungsten Inert Gas). We pump argon through our frame jigs and into the tube sets as we weld them. The inert argon won’t react with the molten titanium, which is why we use it to “clean” the inside and outside of each area to be welded.

Stef assembles the clean tubes back into the jig, then hooks up a gasket to the head tube in order to create the back purge, plugging all of the external holes in the frame (e.g. where water bottles will be mounted) with stoppers. Internal breather holes, previously drilled into the tubes, will allow the gas to flow from one tube to the next until all of the tubes are overflowing with argon. Argon also flows out of the welder’s torch which protects the outside of the tubes.

A gauge at each welding station lets the welders know when there is enough argon in the frame to begin welding. Stef checks the gauge and begins tacking one tube to the next. A tack is a small spot weld that holds the tubes in place. They make freehand welding more manageable.

Out of the jig and onto the welding table the tacked frame goes. Stef works in a most graceful fashion, twirling the frame around the table, welding a little here, a little there, with the smooth, precise movements that she has perfected over the course of more than seven thousand frames.

Little by little, the frame gets closer to completion. Stef says it takes a few hours to weld a frame as “simple” as mine, but that couplers and other options can add to that. My frame is simple in that it is a straight forward mountain bike, with no additional features or options that need to be welded on. I clarify with her that it is also awesome, and she agrees.

Below are the bridges and zip tie guides. Not too many, means not too complicated.

Perfectly round, overlapping droplets of molten titanium bond the tubes together. A stack of dimes, fish scales, whatever you want to call them, they will hold the frame together for the rest of its life. I think they are beautiful. One of the many artistic achievements of the welder is to make it appear that the weld was done all at once, one droplet after the next, until the entire tube is welded, but in reality, they work in tiny centimeter long increments, which is why the frame is flipped, spun, and maneuvered into different positions as they go.

For a novice, welding can be pretty scary. There is electricity, intense heat, and a light so bright it could blind you. Behind a camera lens, it looks like a brilliant purple and blue light.

But from behind the welder’s mask, it’s actually quite pleasing. The welding mask is tinted so dark that, to Stef, it feels like welding by candle light. She works slowly but steadily. Aiming the torch with her right hand, she increases the heat until it’s so hot that the spindly titanium bead in her left hand melts when she dabs it on the tube. Each droplet adds material and strength to the weld. This style of welding bikes is called the Puddle Bead Method, and was pioneered by another welder at Seven, Tim Delaney. Stef is a master, and does a great job of explaining what she is doing while she works. She makes it look so easy, but I know that if I were at the helm, there would be shouting, catastrophe, and probably a fire.

A job well done and a small token of appreciation.

The next time I check on it, the frame is all together and hanging up in the final machining department, ready for the next steps, so close to completion.

Taking Shape

My friend Matt Sutton is in charge of machining the tubes of my bike. This is great news, not because he is any better at machining than the other machinists, but because Sutts’ audiophilia is currently through the roof, just like mine. He recently stepped up to a new pair of high quality bookshelf speakers to go with his tube amp, and I have some interest in learning about that, so in addition to pestering him about my bike, I also grill him with questions about his audio equipment. I’ll bet he enjoys that as much as I do.

While Sutts waxes poetic about his new KEFs, he picks up an empty box, and starts collecting the small parts needed to build my frame; two 6/4 titanium drop outs and a 68mm bottom bracket are the first to get dropped in. Tube selection comes next. We have an enormous variety of straight gauge titanium tubes, in all different diameters and wall thicknesses. They extend from floor to ceiling, forming a hallway at one end of the machining department.

Like an Olympic pole vaulter, Sutts maneuvers the eighteen foot tube into the cut-off lathe. The build sheet says that my seat tube is to be 16.5″ long, which is exactly where Sutts cuts it, and in to the box it goes. When he’s done, there are nine straight sections of tubing and a pair of drop outs.

I’m not a machinist, but this first step seems far easier than what comes next, which is the tube butting process. By making an already thin tube wall even thinner, the ride characteristic of the tube is changed. For a given diameter, a thinner tube wall will yield a more compliant ride. My bike already has cushy tires and a plush suspension fork, but even still, I’ll appreciate the give these butted tubes will provide. Each individual tube is butted for the individual rider. Your bike and my bike could end up with the exact same tube diameters, but the wall thickness will almost certainly be different, and so will the resulting ride.

After butting, the tubes start taking shape. The down tube gets curved to create enough clearance for the fork’s crown to pass underneath without contact. I will crash this beautiful bike. This I know. And there will be damage to my components and my pride, but not to the underside of my down tube.

In order to fit one tube precisely to the next, Sutts copes the ends of each.

On our full titanium frames, we give the chain and seat stays an “S” bend. Stays are bent two at a time in a hydraulic press at room temperature. When each bend is complete, they are inspected on the alignment table to make sure the bends are accurate. The chain stays also receive a squish, in my case a big squish, to achieve clearance for a burly tire.

My chain stays are 17.2″ long, will accept a 2.4″ tire on a 27.5″ wheel, and will allow clearance for my 32 tooth chain ring. You can probably imagine that there are a few thousand variations on chain stay designs. I find it fascinating.

The finish line of the machining process is the jig, where the frame builder can see his or her work come together. Once the jig is mocked up to the appropriate angles and measurements, each piece of my frame is put into place. For the very first time, and only for a shining moment, the shape of the frame is revealed.

If you listen carefully, you can hear the beautiful sounds of a far away choir, at least I think I can. The jig rolls to welding, and I pace with excitement.

Underway

When we receive a signed confirmation form for a new bike, the designer staples the pages together, slips them in a folder with all the accumulated paperwork, and clicks it off in the database as “confirmed.” That designation alerts Matt O’Keefe, the head of production, who nabs the folder and walks it back to the machining area where he files it neatly and squarely in the back of the build queue. The last spot in the queue can be found all the way to the right of the vertical file.

If thinking about your new, one-of-a-kind, hand built Seven Sola SL gets you excited, well then, you want that folder to be all the way to the left. Until it’s the very first one on the left, it won’t be started. The wait can be agonizing.

So I couldn’t believe what happened this morning. All alone in pole position, my folder finally sat on the far left.

From there, right in the sweet spot, Mike Salvatore plucked it out of the queue, then invited me into his office to show me the build sheet he was creating for my bike. I glowed.

The first task is to take the information from the confirmation form, and turn it into a build sheet that specifies every detail of the work to be done. Every single detail, big and small. Tube lengths, diameters, wall thicknesses specified to thousandths of an inch, cable stop styles and locations, where the tubes will be cut, butted, coped and many, many other pieces of information are all included on the drawing so that it can flow through the fabrication process without being held up.

Mike has drafted several thousand build sheets, but I could tell by the confident clicking of his mouse, this one was extra special.

Reading my enthusiasm, he pointed out a few details and explained why they were important. The chain stays, for example, when designed around my single 32-tooth chain ring and 2.4″ tires have to be curved to avoid running into the crank, squished to create tire clearance, angled back to avoid hitting my heels, flared to miss the 180mm rear disc rotor, and finally spread to reach the drop outs. A lot of thought goes into each chain stay, a lot of engineering. After plugging in a few more numbers, every last specification was accounted for and the fabrication of the frame could begin.

For one lucky individual, this will happen in a matter of moments.

Getting Closer

Riding past horse pastures and state parks in and around Hamilton, MA, last weekend, I found myself daydreaming once more about riding off road. I chuckled to myself remembering the wise old proverb, “if all you have is a mountain bike, everything looks like a trail.” Now I am finally understanding the truth of it. In fact, ever since ordering a Sola SL, I have scoured the countryside for trails, parks, and recreation areas. I stare at the woods and drift off, longing for the day I can roll through those very trees.

A few weekends ago, I was hiking the Ledge Hill Trail at Ravenswood Park. High up on a rocky outcropping, the view of Gloucester Harbor, blanketed in winter colors, was Instagram worthy – but instead of taking a snapshot, I pulled out my phone to search “Ravenswood Mountain Biking.” I had to know if bikes were allowed in the park.

What I learned was nothing short of incredible. Not only were bikes allowed, but Ravenswood was just a small piece of about twenty-five thousand acres of parks, forests, and free trails in Massachusetts managed and maintained by the Trustees of Reservations. Many of these parks welcome mountain biking, and just like that, my mountain biking schedule is set.

The timing couldn’t be working out any better, either. Nearly every component for my new bike has arrived. I’m only waiting on the wheels and brakes. Once it’s built, Spring will be knocking on the door. My restless legs bounce just thinking about it.

Because no one in the office wants to hear me talk about it any more (two years of discussion prior to ordering will do that) and because I’m not done yet, I’ll spell out the details in this forum instead.

I have had a soft spot for the Sola SL, since 2004, so I didn’t think twice about the model choice. I knew that a double-butted tube set would be beneficial for at least two reasons: my frame will be big, and I love the look of over-sized titanium tubes. Without butting those tubes, my lanky build would take a beating during the course of a ride. By thinning the tube walls down, I can have a bike that rides like a dream, and meets my oh-so-discerning aesthetic.

Choosing a wheel size ended up being simple as well. I have only ever ridden 26″ wheels, and I wanted to try one of the larger sizes, 27.5″ or 29″. I knew either one would be fun and new, but beyond that, I couldn’t see any overwhelming evidence to suggest one would be better for me than the other. As luck would have it, the fork I wanted was only available in 27.5″ , so the decision was made.

The only real oddity with my bike, or maybe with me, is that I wanted a 150mm travel fork. Surely a 150mm fork is overkill, especially for the relatively mellow riding I’ll use it for. No downhill, no huge drops, and nothing that could be considered extreme to anyone other than my parents. In fact, it will mostly be a cross country rig, with a huge fork. I proposed the idea to the design team, and while they had questions at first, they started to see my vision, and designed a frame that will accommodate the extra travel without hindering its handling. It is amazing what they can do once your measurements, component spec, and vision are in front of them.

Below is the drawing of my very own Sola SL. I think it’s going to be awesome.

And yes, that is a ton of slope and post exposure, two more style requirements.

Matt O’s Festive 500

On a more positive note than recent posts, we have just collected some of the photos Matt O’Keefe took during the Rapha Festive 500 at the end of the year.

When you ask Matt why he rides the Festive 500, he’ll laugh and say, “I don’t know,” but then all the reasons come tumbling out. And it’s pretty clear peer pressure got him out the door to begin with, at the end of 2012.

“I had just signed up for Strava,” he says, “and then Rapha put out the challenge, ride 500km in the week between Christmas and New Years, and I mentioned to John Bayley that it was a cool idea, but that I didn’t have a Garmin. So John gave me a Garmin, and I was out of excuses.”

Despite some untimely snow and a day off for family commitments, he managed to complete last year’s challenge and enjoyed it. This year, the weather was better. The snow held out (until just after the holiday), and Matt managed to get 7,000 miles in his legs over the 2013 season, so the kilometers piled up more easily.

“I don’t know why I do it, but it definitely ends the season with a bang,” he says.

Here are some more of his photos, and for even more of Matt’s cycling adventures, follow him on Instagram.