More desireable bike, less desireable condition

Unlike too much of a good thing, it seems I'm aspiring to plenty of not great things. Last year, I adopted the Huffy mountain bike and set about making it functional with no parts swap, although I recently replaced the left crankarm with the egged bottom bracket taper for a similar steel one that was in the Bike Lab scrap metal pile. I was tempted to see if a soda can sleeve could make it stay on without tightening every half hour, but temptation is overrated.

I've had, and hope to continue having, fun with that bike, and it reinforced my tenant that a not-so-good set of wheels can still be better than walking in sufficient ways, but yes, nicer bikes are, well, nicer. Good design works. And works. And works. And sits in the rain, and snow, without shelter. And rusts. Even a nicer quality bike has its limitations, and I may be setting out to probe those.

May is move out month for the five, alas, with the impending closure of Hampshire, soon to be four, colleges in the area. With the exams that precede that, students don't always manage to plan their departure without waste, a lot of waste. Lots of previously loved items are simply left if they'd take too much space for moving. Bikes, for example, are bulky and awkward for packing, so as I passed through one of the off campus apartment complexes in Amherst yesterday, I gave extra glances toward any bikes left out prominently and unlocked.

Yes, 

the angle of those bars 

& brake levers 

makes me cry.

One leaning against the bushes seemed an especially likely candidate for rescue. Flat tires? Check. Rusty drivetrain? Check. Generally unrideable condition? Check. So when an hour later, after my meander, it was still sitting somewhat forlornly, I felt confident it was fine to take and give a new home, which was further reinforced when I collapsed it down to load out back and found the seatpost frozen in the steel frame.

After only a half hour of penetrating oil soak, 

I was able to pound it out by hand.

That was a lot easier 

than removing the rusted crank nut.

No, nothing so high end as a bolt!

One could easily ask, "But why?" Good question, I seem to have an attraction to the mid grade Rockhopper model. Back in 2007, at a backpacker hostel in New Zealand, someone had left behind a bike catalog, so I, of course, flipped through to the geometry page. It was fall of the year after I stopped racing, and I'd spent most of the summer mountain biking on a late 80s frame I'd quite literally found under a bridge. It had, by the standards of the mid-aughts, a slack head angle of seventy degrees. I liked it!

Looking at the catalog, I found the lowly Rockhopper had adopted a long top tube, and commensurate wheelbase, while using a slacker head angle than the racier high end models. Within a year, I'd bought a used one, which became my primary mountain bike, years before everyone figured out that long, slack bikes really work!

The bike from yesterday is a decade and a half older than that, probably late 80s again. Rigid fork? Check. Short, but very much horizontal dropouts to allow for a single speed option? Check. Number of bolts that snap instead of loosening from where they rusted? To be determined, but so far two. No, it will probably never be great, but I think I'm capable of having plenty of fun with this one too!

One more cause for celebration:

On my way home, 

I actually STOPPED to pull the grass off my hub.

Old dog learning less tricky self preservation!