U.S. Built Custom Bicycles in Titanium and Titanium-Carbon Mix
U.S. Built Custom Bicycles in Titanium and Titanium-Carbon Mix
Here are a pair of Sevens, for husband and wife, built with our friends at High Gear Cyclery in New Jersey. The Evergreen PRO just left our doors a few weeks ago, and we got this photo and nice note last week:
Hello Seven,
Called this ride the Everhoney!
Rode it tonight with my wife on her Mudhoney on some gravel roads by me. Thank you for getting this to me so fast…it was an early Christmas present to myself! 🙂
Thank you,
Chris
This is Patty and her brand new Mudhoney S. As you will read below, her win percentage on it is holding steady right at 100%. This is a great example of our ability to dial in the handling of a race bike for a rider on the smaller size of the fit curve.
Hello,
I rode my new Mudhoney in my first cyclocross race of the season. She performed beautifully on a very muddy course and I got the win.
I’m so glad that Mike Butchko at The Bicycle Place convinced me to go with a Seven.
Thank you, Seven Cycles!
Patty
When you finish a bike, put it in a box, put that box on a truck and send it out into the world, you never know what kind of adventures it’s going to find. We built Bob Kruger a Mudhoney S last year with our good friends at Cascade Bicycle Studio in Seattle, and, like so many of the cyclists we admire, he put it to good use as a cyclocross race bike, a bad weather commuter and finally, as a mixed-terrain explorer.
Bob’s gorgeous photos and prose from the Gorge Roubaix Gravel Grinder below:
Last spring I was looking for a new bike. I had a number of intended uses for this bike: commuter, cross racer, gran fondo and all around performer. I wasn’t looking for a plastic race bike, nor a heavy city bike. This bicycle needed to look great, take a beating and come out the other end looking just as good. It needed to perform well 365 days a year for the next 30 years. That’s a big ask.
I found the perfect bike. It was a Seven Mudhoney S. Although I thought it was perfect throughout last autumn’s cross season and a winter of commuting, I verified it this weekend at the Gorge Roubaix Gravel Grinder.
Throughout the day I was continually reminded of how much I loved my Seven Mudhoney. The 28 mm Continental 4-Seasons performed spectacularly both on the treacherous gravel descents and fast paved sections. The CBS-built Hed Belgium + Chris King hubbed wheelset was bomber and rolled smoothly and perfectly throughout a day where many, many large rocks were hit. The Mudhoney S: titanium frame was solid with zero chatter or skittishness. The gravel and rocks we encountered didn’t even faze the polished titanium’s shine. The Avid BB7 disc brakes gave me a massive amount of confidence and between that and the solidity of the bike I had no fear descending rough gravel at 35 mph for extended periods of time. While others complained of numb hands and feet, I experienced none of that. I couldn’t have been happier with how my Mudhoney performed over those 85 miles.
That night I rinsed the dust off, lubed the chain, screwed on the fat PDX fenders and was ready for the rainy Seattle commute the next morning. In the fall I’ll pull my Contis, install my fat tubeless CX tires and try to win some old man Cat 3 races on this Mudhoney. I’m serious about riding this bike for the next 30 years. I’m sure it will look better than I do in 2045!
Bob Kruger is an Environmental Scientist who grew up in Skagit Valley, Washington and currently resides in Seattle. All of his energy is focused into family, friends, work, travel and being active outdoors, in that order and often together. His outdoor passions include cycling, skiing, golf and being on the water.
See more on this ride here. There is also a great video from the event here.
by Whit Bazemore
Mixing it up: some high alpine cx bike riding outside of Bend.
Back in 1999, when I got back into cycling, I was at my favorite bike shop in Indianapolis contemplating buying a road bike. I hadn’t had a road bike since 7th or 8th grade, waaay back in ’77 or ’78, so I had a lot of catching up to do. I had already started to get serious about mountain biking (or so I thought — a rookie’s definition of serious is actually way wide of the true meaning of the word.) Cycling had become more than a way to rehabilitate my injured legs though, it was a healthy obsession.
Mountain biking in Indianapolis was limited to less than 15 miles of trail in town, half of which was soon cleared for an invisible shopping center which, to this very day, is still not built. The “good†mountain biking (and it really is good) was a 92 mile drive south, and is something a group of us did somewhat regularly on Saturdays. It was far away and, yes, it took all day to do a three hour ride. Hence the need for a road bike. I was assured by my cycling friends I could ride all over town, more or less.
I had bought a Seven mountain bike, which I loved, so getting a Seven road bike was an easy sell for me. But one of the guys I regularly rode with and who also happened to work at the shop, a guy named Ross, suggested a ‘cross bike. What?
With my race car driver mentality, a ‘cross bike made no sense. I had a state of the art mountain bike, that I still crashed way too often, and I wanted – no – needed, a state of the art road bike. Compromised performance was not in my vocabulary. “It is fun,†he said, pointing to his own Seven ‘cross bike leaning in the corner. “It is a blast.â€
Fun for me was knowing that my machine was the most efficient possible, as my cycling fitness was not up to par with most of my riding friends, which sadly, is still basically true today. Lets just say I was on the rivet on almost every ride. I did not need a heavier, less efficient bike (on the road) making me any slower than I already was. I also did not need a skinnier tire on the trails, either.
Fast forward to 2007, now living in Oregon, I decided that the hundreds of miles of fire roads criss-crossing the National Forests around Bend would be perfect for a ‘cross bike. So I had Seven (who else?) weld me up a straight gage Ti frame. That the frame sat on a hook in the garage for more than a year before I built it, says a lot about my then lack of appreciation for the discipline.
But ‘cross racing in the Northwest is a very big deal, and once I realized that everyone had a ‘cross bike, in addition to road and mountain bikes, I built the bike and rode it on some single track. Wow. Ross was right. The ‘cross bike IS fun. There is something about it I really like. The fact that it is rigid, the fact that you have to pay extra close attention to your line, that there is less room for error, the contact patch is smaller –– and best of all, that it weighs only 16.5 lbs. are things that appeal to me. I love railing tight single track on it, as fast as I can go. And to say the bike (not me) climbs like a mountain goat is an understatement.
It was only a matter of time before I started racing ‘cross. And although the bike is awesome, ‘cross racing is about as tough a sport as there is. I find it extremely difficult, and not a race goes by that I don’t ask myself why am I doing this. It is truly that hard. Racing is a way to push yourself past limits you could not otherwise get past. It is 45 minutes of pure hell and I mean that. There is no hiding, no sitting in. If you slow down, you get passed. It is not fun. The fun comes afterwards, when you realize that you just killed yourself and for what? For the beer afterwards? For camaraderie with teammates? For the self satisfaction of giving 100% and knowing that each pedal stroke at this ungodly effort is making you a stronger cyclist? Maybe.
For the record, I usually finish about mid pack in the Master B category and have never had so much fun not winning. I usually can not wait for the next race. But even better, I ride my ‘cross bike on all of our local single track – all hundreds of miles of it. Just today, I did a 3 hr, mostly single track, ‘cross bike ride. It was 35 degrees and snowing on and off. The bike was perfect, the trails were perfect, and so was the ride. I find myself thinking, “man, I love this bike!â€
So Ross, thanks for the recommendation. Good advice, even 13 years later!
Whit
by Richard Fries
Some heavily ridden roads draw riders out of Boston’s mean streets to the countryside. One of the portals for these Boston escapees is Massachusetts Avenue, which runs from downtown through Cambridge and Arlington before reaching its terminus in Lexington. To sound local, simply refer to it as “Mass Ave.”
This is the same route used by William Dawes on horseback to warn the folks in Lexington about approaching British troops in 1775. Unfortunately, the name “Dawes” works poorly for poets, so Paul Revere, who arrived in Lexington via Medford, got the fame.
For hard-core cyclists, group rides roll out to Concord and points beyond with amazing regularity. But these mini pelotons have angered the local residents and raised blood pressure amongst the motorists. We find this curious because the Concord residents shot down a proposal to extend the Minuteman rail trail through their community; as a result they have thousands of cyclists on their roads during rush hour.
For this ride, we get to Concord using an entirely different route, with 80 percent of the ride off-road. Please note this is not single track. Thanks to recent developments along the Minuteman National Historic Park, we avoid the motorists almost entirely and get to Concord on a route perfect for beginners and kids, and hysterically fun for experienced riders. You won’t work on your max heart rate, but you probably can check off some birds from the back page of your Peterson Guide and brush up on your Revolutionary War history. To cultivate a romance, bring a picnic.
This ride features three basic courses: The Minuteman Bikeway, a paved path constructed along a rail bed; the Minuteman National Historic Park, a gravel path built parallel to Route 2A along the route used by both the British and American forces on April 19, 1775; and the abandoned Boston and Maine railbed that connects Concord to Bedford by way of the Great Meadow National Wildlife Sanctuary.
We do this ride quite frequently on stock road bikes with never as much as a puncture. A true cross-country bike for this route is overkill; suspension is hardly needed. The perfect bike for this ride is a cyclocross rig. And we got one of the best for the job: aSeven Cycles Mudhoney. This is an extravagant machine for a rather blunt job.
But the folks at Seven Cycles and their dealer, Ace Wheelworks in Somerville, always take good care of us. Ace is the urban sister of the hallowed Belmont Wheelworks. About one-fifth the size of Belmont, Ace Wheelworks features as much soul as any shop in America. Just outside of Davis Square, this shop is stuffed with bikes. With work-stations right behind the counter, one often has several staff in on the conversation. The heart of Ace Wheelworks is the fabled John Allis. He won an amateur classic in France in 1964, thereby setting the trajectory that resulted in Greg LeMond, Andy Hampsten, Tyler Hamilton and Lance Armstrong. John will disagree; others will not.
Ace is a place that tests every trendy development in cycling. These folks still value wood, wool, leather and steel. Seven Cycles, masters at titanium, have passed the muster.
When riding a cyclocross bike, understand the entire machine is a few centimeters higher. This initially affects the fit and feel, but you’ll come to respect the design. Unlike mountain bikes; these machines maintain the basics of road design with a tight wheelbase that helps in turns. Our Mudhoney weighed less than 20 pounds, with a responsive rear triangle and Wound Up carbon fork. The Wound Up fork prevents getting an inflated front wheel on and off easily; a pain in the ass for folks using car racks. And were we to spec the machine, top mount brake lever—increasingly common on ‘cross bikes—would have been there. But components are easy to change; frame design is a different story.
This machine absolutely danced for us on this ride. By riding during a weekday, we had the trail to ourselves and got to light it up on the more technical elements of a course where horses, pedestrians, and dogs may make up the user group. We rode with road pedals just to prove this is a ride that does not require any dismounts.
We opened on the Minuteman Bikeway, which starts in Somerville’s Davis Square. Note that upon return, we can have a pint at Redbone’s Barbecue, where they offer bike valet service. We used the connectors that start at the Davis Square subway station, where bikes are welcome, snakes across Mass. Ave. and through some parks to the Alewife Station, also a convenient start point for out-of-towners. From there the path starts in earnest, initially running along Mass. Ave. to the south, but crossing it in a rather perplexing fashion in Arlington Center, where several group rides form. On the northern side of Mass. Avenue is where the longer portion of the path begins. It runs all the way to Bedford. But we get off in Lexington Center, another meeting point for cyclists, and get onto Mass. Ave. for one of the few road portions of this ride. At the famous Minuteman Statue we bear left and follow Mass. Ave., keeping the Battle Green on our right. We climb out of Lexington Center and descend to the Interstate 95 overpass.
Get ready as this is the most dangerous part of the ride: right after the overpass make a hard right on Wood Street and then make an immediate left onto Old Massachusetts Avenue. And there stands the entrance to the Minuteman National Historic Park on your right. Pound up the gravel path, being careful and polite with pedestrians, and soak in the history.
This linear park is a jewel of the Park Service. For cyclists, the best feature is the newly unveiled tunnel that runs beneath the Hanscom Airfield access road. For history nuts, there are plaques, restored homes and farms returned to the exact state they were in during 1775. And kids love that flocks of sheep have even been added. In wetland areas, the path is routed on, to boardwalks where signs ask cyclists to walk. We unclip and roll at sidewalk pace for these sections; walking on cleats would prove more dangerous than riding. We simply honor all pedestrians along this route.
We follow the path to Meriam’s Corner where this patch of the national park ends. By crossing Old Bedford Road, we continue along the path and make a connection through a park to Route 62. There we turn left, complete the next on-road section of the ride. It’s only about one mile down to Concord Center, which has all sorts amenities to the left. But as we enter the center, we turn right on Monument and roll the short distance to the Old North Bridge, another patch of the national park. This is great for picnics and getting to know the resident Redcoat or Minuteman posted there for Q and A.
But this is where the secret fun starts. Across from the Old North Bridge entrance on Monument, and about 200 meters towards Concord Center, one will find the entrance to the abandoned rail bed, marked by massive boulders and narrow path.
Duck in the woods to find one of Greater Boston’s special bikeways. Although not paved, this hard-packed route has some muddy sections as you roll along the edge of the Great Meadows. This path is unique; it knifes between the national park, a wildlife refuge, and the Hanscom Air Force base, which has some amazing air shows every year.
Although overgrown in a few sections, this path receives sufficient traffic to barely maintain “beaten” status.
After crossing pack across Route 62 (Bedford Road), the path a unique element, with an origin difficult to explain. The path starts to undulate a rhythmic string of hump after hump after hump. This fantastic roller coaster, created by some mysterious erosion in the rail bed, brings fast riders off the ground with each jump; and brings slow riders to an infectious state of grinning. Kids squeal with delight. After enjoying that section the path empties out on Railroad Avenue in Bedford, pointed right to the northern terminus of the Minuteman Bikeway, just a quarter mile ahead.
Still giggling from the roller coaster rail bed, we pedaled onto the asphalt of the bikeway as the mud splattered off the tread of the Seven Mudhoney. And we coast homeward, side by side, talking about guns or planes or birds or Paul Revere’s bust. But after this ride we never seem to talk about the jerk who laid on the horn.