Is something missing on your new bike? No? Are you sure? What about a kickstand? Few new bikes come with ‘em, at least on this side of the Pond, but many riders want one. Whatever you use a bike for—commuting, grocery shopping, or touring—you’ll probably find that a kickstand is one of life’s handier gadgets. Racers and club riders won’t agree, of course. To them, a kickstand is just extra weight, and decidedly not cool. But the rest of us can probably remember a time when we leaned a bike against a wall “just for a minute” and walked away, only to hear it come crashing down seconds later. A good kickstand makes these unpleasant surprises very rare.

Note the qualifying adjective: “good.” A bad kickstand is the worst kind of false friend. Sooner or later it’s guaranteed to let you (and your bike) down. But what makes a good kickstand good? That’s the question. At least we have plenty to choose from. Some have one leg. Some have two. Some attach to the chainstays just behind the bottom bracket. Some clamp to a single chainstay, a few inches from the rear dropout, on the side opposite the mech (aka derailleur). Which of these are good, and which are not-so-good? And most important of all, which one is best for you?

I’m glad you asked, even if I don’t have all the answers. But I do have some reasonably well-founded opinions. So here goes, a sort of Tour de Kickstand, beginning with…

Two legs good?  My Number One Bike, a Surly Long Haul Trucker, didn’t come with a kickstand. In fact, it doesn’t even have a kickstand plate, the little steel shelf that makes fitting a kickstand easy and eliminates the chance that you’ll crush a chainstay in the process. This is a sore point with me: the sole shortcoming in an otherwise first-rate machine. And Surly knows how I (and others) feel about the matter. But their response has been uncharacteristically…well…surly. Not exactly a case study in good customer relations.

But I digress. The subject is kickstands, not the curious ways of modern corporations. And when I bought my LHT I knew exactly the kickstand I wanted to mount on it—a two-legged Pletscher:

And I got one. While the Pletscher isn’t a cheap date—it cost USD45!—it was love at first sight. The Pletscher was (and is) a marvel of design, clever and compact, if a bit on the heavy side. We stayed together for a year, while I put some 2,500 miles on my new LHT. But the romance quickly cooled. The clamp proved dodgy—and Pletscher has the chutzpa to make you pay ten bucks more for a fix that ought to be part of the original package. Worst of all, the stand proved inherently unstable when used on a heavily loaded bike—and my LHT is usually heavily loaded.

In the end, we went our separate ways. I’ve written about our brief affair at some length elsewhere. It was a painful interlude, to be sure, but I bounced back from the disappointment quickly, and I picked up a new love on the rebound:

Meet Greenfield. He’s only got one leg to stand on, and he’s not much to look at, but this doesn’t matter. He’s never let me down, and that’s what really counts. He’s also lighter than the Pletscher, and much, much cheaper (less than USD10, in fact). His clamp works better, too. It holds tight without crushing. And I can boot him into action without having to lift the bike (and the fifty-plus pounds of groceries in the panniers) first. Don’t get me wrong. Ours isn’t an abusive relationship. He likes being kicked around. It’s what he lives for. Here he is:

We’re going to stay together for a long time. But the secret of his appeal isn’t chemistry. It’s geometry. Greenfield simply has a bigger base of support:

So…my search for a kickstand had a happy ending. That’s what counts, right? But if you want the whole story, you’ll find it here.

How about you? Not content with just two choices? Thinking about playing the field? Then you might want to give a kickstand that mounts far back on the chainstay a try. Like this one, on Barney Ward’s LHT:

I’ve never used one, and it looks like they could complicate the job of attaching a trailer, but Barney and other folks who have them like them. You might, too.

Then there’s the Click-Stand. (Click-Stand. Kickstand. Get it?) The maker calls it the “World’s Only Folding Portable Bicycle Stand.” Fair enough. It looks a bit like a cross between an aluminum tent pole and a shooting stick to me. And I found the idea interesting, once upon a time. But—for no good reason other than inertia—I never got around to trying one. That said, the Click-Stand has plenty of fans. So if conventional bolt-on-the-bike kickstands leave you cold, it could be just what you’re looking for.

What’s the bottom line? Kickstands make life a little bit easier for cyclists who use their bikes to haul stuff. And while no kickstand can guarantee that your bike won’t someday take a tumble, good kickstands make this pretty unlikely. Like I said, my Greenfield has never let me down. Sure, I’m careful how and where I park my bike. And I carry a “sand-shoe” (a metal jar lid) to use on soft ground. But mostly I just kick the stand down and walk away. The Greenfield does the rest.

I can’t kick about that, can I?

 
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The days are getting longer in the northern hemisphere as General Winter retreats, but daytime temperatures are still cold enough to require tights, fleece, woolens, full-fingered gloves, and wind shells when bicycling. And mornings are downright icy, so it’s not time just yet to remove the studded tires if you’re commuting early or late in the day.

When conditions are chilly, it’s difficult to imagine sweltering under a roasting sun on a shadeless road. But that day will come, and when it does, it pays to be armed with ways to combat the full blast of the sun’s heat. After a long winter, I like the feel of the sun on my bare skin during those first opportunities to go outside in shirtsleeves. Yet however good it feels, and however cool it is to show off the classic cyclist’s tan, it’s not wise to court burns or cancer by exposing skin to the sun’s harmful ultraviolet (UV) rays. I’ve been using sunscreen to combat the threat, but it’s greasy and eventually washes off as I sweat, and I don’t much like it. I could wear long-sleeved jerseys, but I don’t own any summer-weight ones, and they’re pricey. Then I learned about arm coolers, and I knew that I’d found a solution that I could live with.

Arm coolers are similar to arm warmers in design but not in purpose. Where arm warmers are made of heavier insulating material, often flocked on the inside, arm coolers are made with less beefy, more brightly colored material. Arm coolers slip over your arms and cover the skin between wrists and biceps or armpit, depending on how long they are. I’ve never used arm coolers before, but have decided that it’s about time I gave them a try.

After hearing good things about DeFeet Armskins from cyclists who ride in hot climates, I ordered a pair of them from Team Estrogen. I was favorably impressed by Team Estrogen about two years ago when I ordered my Canari Barrier Commuter jacket, so they were my first stop when shopping for arm coolers. I wasn’t disappointed with their service. It was exceptional—I received my order within five days without paying extra for expedited shipping.

It’s too early to know how the DeFeet Armskins will work as sunblocks. I’ll have to wait for warm weather for a complete evaluation, but I can say that I’m pleased with the workmanship and fit. Armskins come in two sizes—small/medium (S/M) and large/extra large (L/XL). Team Estrogen states that the arm and wrist measurements are the same for both sizes, and that the roll-top design makes them comfortable for all sizes, so they advised choosing size based on the length. The S/M Armskins are 15 inches long, while the L/XL are 19.5 inches long. I chose the longer ones, because I felt the 15-inch Armskins would leave a gap between the short sleeves of my jerseys and the ’skins.

I’m glad I chose the larger Armskins, which rise to my armpits and should provide continuous coverage from wrist all the way up, even if they slip in use. The fit is snug without being tight. The wrist band is fairly wide, and the rolled-edge top is about half as wide. Here’s what each end looks like:

The material is almost like a mesh, but no skin shows through:

Armskins roll up into a tidy package that can easily be tucked into the pocket of a jersey or into a handlebar bag, and that’s where mine are now, waiting for a day when I can give them a test.

Until hot weather, then, I’ll keep wearing my cold-weather clothes and dream of spring. But I’ll be prepared for those searing hot days when they do come.

 
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Whether it’s the shopping or a camping kit that you need to carry, you can tote it in panniers on rear and front racks mounted to your bicycle. I’ve carried as much as 50 pounds on the rear rack of my Surly Long Haul Trucker, but when the load mounts up that high, I now prefer using a bike trailer. For several years, a Nashbar Kid Karriage managed the load, but a trailer designed to carry children isn’t as well suited for hauling shopping and gear, nor is it as robust as one might wish. Fabric floors and an integrated child seat are impediments to efficient packing of bulky or heavy objects. So what’s the alternative? Enter the cargo trailer.

Cargo trailers are designed to (surprise!) haul cargo, whether it be bulky objects or heavy loads, or both. If you’re in the market for a beefy trailer that’s up to the job, and if you don’t want to break the bank, consider one from Wike, a Canadian company that sells only through mail order. Outside reader Gerry Bauder has been using a Wike cargo trailer for some time now, and finds that it suits his needs beautifully. That’s his Wike in the photo at the head of this article, in a welcoming scene from Florida. Here’s the bigger picture:

Gerry has graciously let us publish these photos of his trailer being used with a variety of cargo boxes to show the Wike’s versatility. His is the Wike Large Cargo Bike Trailer, and here are its specs:

• • Maximum payload is 125 pounds
• • Weighs 18 pounds
• • Overall length is 48 inches
• • Overall width is 31.75 inches
• • Outside frame dimensions are 24 inches by 30 inches
• • Inside frame dimensions are 22 inches by 28 inches
• • Folded dimensions are 26 inches by 32 inches by 5 inches
• • Standard wheels are spoked 20 inch and removable for storage
• • Push button 20-inch alloy wheels are an optional upgrade
• • Frame is aluminum
• • Floor is hard plastic

Now let’s take a walk around the Wike, beginning with this one, where Gerry has loaded a wheeled plastic box into the trailer:

Bungee cords are wrapped around the trailer’s frame members and keep the box from shifting. Here’s what he has to say about his trailer:

My Wike’s wheels are the push-button quick-release upgrade option. The trailer folds down into itself for storage or packing in a trunk or truck bed. These functions actually work as advertised on the Wike website. For motoring down here to Florida, I had filled the cargo boxes with other stuff so they did double-duty and didn’t waste any space. I also have to say how pleased I am with how well the trailer tows, and there is no sway or unsteadiness with it at all.

Sounds great! Here’s the hitch:

The hitch is braced against the bike’s dropout with the rear wheel’s quick release (their website has a video showing how easy it is to mount the hitch). A strap wraps around the bike’s stays and clips to the trailer tongue, a belts-and-suspenders approach which lends an extra layer of security. Extra hitches can be purchased for USD20, so that each bike in your fleet can have its own hitch.

Here are photos of the trailer’s stern:

Note how easy it is to lash gear to the frame members. Gerry customized his trailer, too:

I added two rear lights (to augment the standard reflectors), the reflective triangle, and a flag mount for additional visibility. I added the flag for when we take the Wike into traffic, such as for grocery shopping. I had read somewhere about someone using his own country flag instead of the standard orange flag, and he found that it often opened the door for interesting converstions, so I thought I’d try it.

The Wike connects and disconnects in seconds, and tows so easily you can almost forget it’s there. For the shots with the Action Packer, I was carrying 40 to 50 pounds of tools, and the trailer still towed easily when pedaling the tandem by myself for the photo-shoot.

The box with the gray top in the picture above is the Action Packer in, well, action. Here are two other views:

And if you are curious about that Trek tandem, here’s a picture of its cockpit:

But the Wike isn’t good only for chores. It’s great for carrying the cooler to the beach…

…and for riding to a meet-up with friends to make music:

At USD229, the basic Wike Large Cargo Bike Trailer looks like a good deal. Thanks to Gerry Bauder for letting us know about it, and for sharing his experiences and photos. Sure seems like a contender to me.

 
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