Richard Sachs Cycles

[e-RICHIE]

Fantasy Gene

And in the time it takes to press Send I feel better about myself. Knowing that others too are keeping entropy at the forefront. Despite a life long (so far) desire for order I seldom get close. That’s why God gave me a fantasy gene. And I use it. Maybe not daily. I close my eyes and see white walls (wait – I DO have these) and a surgical approach to surfaces, materials, and tools. And a systematic way to cull the unnecessary. My eyes can’t stay shut long enough. What I have are piles and layers and old magazines that should have been tossed. I make bicycles with open eyes. And then close them. Share the fantasy. Arrange disorder.

All This By Hand

[e-RICHIE]

My Devil’s Tower

That scene in Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Richard Dreyfus’s character is obsessed with what he saw what he thinks he saw what he imagined – it doesn’t matter. He goes deep into his dinner and begins to construct a mound on the plate that resembles the Devil’s Tower in Wyoming.

We all have our Mashed Potato Mountain. Or should. Mine. There are parts of the whole that take me away. If a frame is the product of three days labor, a good several hours are spent on smaller details that grab me and bring the process to a halt. Maybe five times between start and completion. Areas of detail. My Devil’s Tower.

The seat lug confluence is among my focal points. The parts are joined. The flux is rinsed. I begin to carve the shapes onto the left and right stay tops. Often the two sides don’t match. But they don’t match close enough that I care. Or don’t. The area looks at me and I look back at it tenfold. And then move forward. Time. Is. Money.

I spend a LOT time holding metal and tools. In many ways it’s like me touching myself. When there’s an itch within reach, I scratch it. Then people pay me for this. If there’s a lesson for other makers and people in the personal service industries it’s this: If you’re not fascinated with your own work, be surprised if anyone else is.

All This By Hand

[e-RICHIE]

Working every day until cx season starts. Part of the routine. By late August my bench won't hold me up on weekends. Or most Fridays. I've been inside since January. And but for the daily rides. And what happens when the sun sets. I know my space well. It's a gift to hold the tools. And touch the metal. And make the bicycles.

I finished another one. These sections didn't speak to me. They sit on the surface. Parts of them will travel to JB's. And change color. Come back to me. And then go away. And make someone happy. The material knows. These pieces are no less the work than the work is. They're part of what I make. Even when they're not.

All This By Hand

[e-RICHIE]

The days when I can walk in and light the torch and use my forefinger already curled up and lure the material I'm not as much luring as coaxing I'm not as much coaxing as I'm willing it I'm not as much willing it as I am seducing the whole lot because it is in essence seduction there's so much at stake when I make something a maker is indentured to a paying client first well maybe not first well maybe the client is a patron because the maker is indentured to no one but himself to do the best and then repeat his best but improve upon it the next day but on those days when the luring and the coaxing and the willing and the seducing go so well you wonder well you don't REALLY wonder because all that practice is what delivers you to these days these days when every possible dot on earth going back to before dots were even recorded every dot connects and makes you feel like King Shit because really it all goes so FUCKING well and it's why they pay you the big bucks these are the days we live for.

And in another life I could have been a mohel. Just look at my precision hacksaw cuts. Don't. Tempt. Me.

All This By Hand

[e-RICHIE]

When something is perfectly aligned.
And then no longer is.
Bring Back The Elegance™

All This By Hand

[happycampyer]

When something is perfectly aligned.
And then no longer is.
Bring Back The Elegance™

All This By Hand

The frame is not the frame.

[e-RICHIE]

Maybe 1980. First year I sponsor the club I came up in. CYBC (Connecticut Yankee Bicycle Club) becomes CYBC/RS. Martin Bruhn had the idea. I agreed without a thought. I was always supported when I raced. It was time to give back. Maybe 1980. Did I already mention that?

This is Warren Zanes. He was (I believe) a Junior when the photograph was taken. He soon went on to the rest of his life, starting The Del Fuegos. Warren if you read this, you have pioneer status in many things, this longstanding art project of mine among them.

For the detail mavens, the initial foray into running a team included having the support of Apollinaris Spring Water and Le Coq Sportif. My name appeared on the kits up on the upper right breast area in a smallish type size. That would change the next season when we started the red and white thing.

All This By Hand

[e-RICHIE]

Are you on Instagram?

Then. Get. Ready.

Richard Sachs Cyclocross (@richardsachscyclocross) • Instagram photos and videos

[e-RICHIE]

Two measurements. Three maybe. And some experience. And intuition. Common sense. And knowing what belongs where. And not belaboring the point. And not turning it into a board meeting. And not turning it into a bored meeting. A rider sits somewhere in space. Over and between two wheels. That place produces efficient pedaling. It's a place of comfort. And it also allows the working parts to play nicely with each. Measurements chosen well result in a minimum of friction. For the athlete. And for the components. It's all so fucking simple. But not easy.

All This By Hand

[e-RICHIE]

[VintageTTfanatic]

Are Sachs headsets made by Richard Sachs. I am sorry for my ignorance. I have been looking all over for this info. Does anyone have any idea what a vintage Sachs headset is worth? Thank you in advance for any knowledge anyone can impart.

[sk_tle]

Are Sachs headsets made by Richard Sachs. I am sorry for my ignorance. I have been looking all over for this info. Does anyone have any idea what a vintage Sachs headset is worth? Thank you in advance for any knowledge anyone can impart.

Unrelated.

More information here:
ZF Sachs - Wikipedia

[e-RICHIE]

I could stop. But won't. Five six of these a month. And when I get to this place. I'm fascinated with my work. I shot four dozen images. This one. So many things happen to make this so right. For years it was a vision. Sometimes a struggle. And then one day it appeared. Without. Even. Thinking.

Every unit is comprised of too many decisions. And even more file strokes. Coercing flowing silver alloy is part of this. That scene where Hendrix uses body english to lure a flame up and down the neck of his Strat. I do this. Now, I do this. Five or six of these a month.

I had to get to the second half of a career at the bench to understand the nuances of process. I'm not making a bicycle frame (and fork.) And this is about only one thing. But many one things strung together. And the last one doesn't happen unless all before it flows. Flowing is simple. But not easy.

All This By Hand

[e-RICHIE]

Dave Geissert winning the Tour of Martha's Vineyard Pro-Am Road Race in 1987. It's on the shoulders of riders like Dave and his CYBC/RS teammates that I stand. Since 1982 these squads have been my lab rats, my test pilots, my pals. For life in so many instances. Dave and I still line up together at 'cross races.

What I know and feel about rider position, morphological needs, center of gravity, where the wheels should be, how a bicycle should turn at a certain speed - all of this and more - can be traced to my liaisons in the sport. These connections still exist, though the pavement gave way to CX in the middle 1990s. As Soichiro Honda so eloquently stated it, "Racing improves the breed."

All This By Hand

[e-RICHIE]

To These Two

I tell you this from my heart. About something that's lasted. Because we all have these moments. Life came back to visit today. It never goes away. But so many parts leave and get replaced. And what comes after is precious too. Like a bond. The good ones endure. I hope these words do too.

On the right is Jim. With him is John. These two rode with me. For me. With and for each other. Jim is the first person, and one of fewer than five people I’ve ever asked to join the team before being lobbied first. He still has the letter I wrote that planted the seed.

I've known John even longer. He wasn't even fully developed when we met. A bookish yet accomplished junior who I'd collect from his dorm at Wesleyan on Sundays and take to the races with me. He matured swiftly, got his own car, and became one of the best young riders of his generation.

Jim and John are from an era when we were all less a team and more a club. Camaraderie and code, rather than sponsorship, made up the fabric that brought people together. The dollars help, but always come at a price. I miss the simpler times when racing was like it was then.

This morning we met at O'Rourke's Diner for breakfast. I hadn’t spent time with Jim in 25 years. I do see John at the 'cross races. But we three haven't broken bread since Clinton was in office. We took a booth. Looked at menus. After the eleventh second passed, I wanted to give thanks - to someone, to something.

Very long ago there was no bicycle. When it arrived, a richness came too. The bicycle gives me a way to think clearly. And understand personal space. A bicycle lets me leave. And it lets me come back. If only for a moment. To. These. Two.

All This By Hand

[e-RICHIE]

Mad props to TKW for a top ten in Friday's UCI C2 on Day One at Jingle Cross.

Follow Taylor @ shrimpmuffinhaberdashery on Instagram.

Brian Vernor picture credit

All This By Hand

[e-RICHIE]

I bought new tools this week. It's a twice maybe three times a year ordeal. When my edge dulls, retail therapy is the antidote. If it happens at the bench, I replace all my files. Away from it, I buy shoes. Always the same. Bass Leytons in black.

For a bicycle maker, hand-files are an extension of the person. And the personality. I use these little things to shape metal. To coax. Sometimes I use them to hold things down, and they become a fixture. These tools show the material who's boss.

Without repetition or routine none of it would be. I wonder how many strokes I've tossed since the day I first held a file. Tens of millions. I was nineteen. I didn't develop a sense of things until my late thirties. It was all process. One long lesson.

These larger Bahco files are mostly for finish work. There's another pile of Grobets that are delicate and more fragile. I use these for the dirty work. For hiding the miscues. For burying the miscues. For the tasks that never see the end of my Nikon lens.

A craftsman develops a relationship with his tools. Some like big. Or heavy. Some think power is better. There are tools that make a lot of noise. And some that never make a sound unless you know them, unless you really know them, and then listen.

All This By Hand

[e-RICHIE]

This man, and his father, and their place in the hierarchy of fine bicycle making - these have inspired me for five decades.
The screenshot is from a documentary called Italian Masters. It ran on Amazon Prime Video.

All This By Hand

[e-RICHIE]

I finish a commission. Relish the thought that another is ready for paint. Give the unit a last glance. And write down some specs so geeks in the future can wonder about serial numbers and bottom bracket drop. Then I clean the bench tops.

I started what's considered Knolling long before I heard the term or knew what it meant. I like order. But people give me money to arrange disorder. More than 20 years ago my pal Desmond paid a visit. He mentioned Francis Bacon in a sentence.

It may have taken some time, but I remembered his reference and started researching via Google. Ya. Bacon’s studio was walking entropy. Every image I saw reminded me of the eleventh hour here. If shit isn't sideways by then, I'm not working hard enough.

But I like order. So there's the routine whitewash of surfaces. It makes me feel good. Read: it makes me feel better. It's a gift of hope bestowed on me, by me. And when I unwrap it, I get another chance to tame the beast. To get closer.

Recently I've noticed no amount of order resembles starting with nothing. Which is the ideal. But my reality has been every bicycle bleeds something into the next bicycle. I try to sanitize the space. To forget everything. But it's futile.

It's more difficult than it was before. That simple task of removing everything that is not the exact combination of open space and small tools waiting for a new day. When I do this now, so much residue just lingers. As if to tease.

All This By Hand

[e-RICHIE]

So this is how I see my trade. More to the point, how I once saw it. The work calls. You spend an eternity listening, and watching, and grabbing what you can from those who walked a path before you did. You know the history. What goes where. Absorption happens. And when the routine becomes a routine. And the juices are leaving your body through both tear ducts. And you know you just know you can no longer work for the man. It's when you get a sign. And a workbench. And start swinging tools. A collection of outliers who each answer a different calling and the same one too. That is us. That was us. Or maybe it was just me.

All This By Hand