"B" is for Brazing Bicycles

For this installment of my A to Z series about materials, engineering, and making stuff, "B" was to be for "Bicycle Materials," something I've been interested in since I got into bicycling and began working on my engineering degree twenty-five years ago.  (Yes, I did finish).  But it's far too expansive a subject for an A to Z blog post, and these folks here and here do a better job of explaining it than I could anyway.

So instead, I'd like to narrow the topic down to what the guys in the pictures at the above links are doing, which is called "brazing." This is not to be confused with "braising," which I imagine someone is explaining at this very moment in a cooking blog somewhere. 

I remember when I was a kid in the late '70s talking to another kid about bikes (BMX bikes, natch) and him talking about how his bike was great because it was made of "alloy" instead of steel and how it was also better than steel bikes because it was welded, and the steel bikes, his father told him, were "soldered."

Rivendell Seat lug.  Tubes brazed into it and seatstays onto it.

This used to be my bike.

Later, I figured out that by "alloy" he meant aluminum alloy (steel and aluminum bikes are both constructed of alloys, which are simply mixtures of metals), that steel is arguably the best all-around material from which to make a bicycle frame and and that his dad was full of poo-poo.  By "soldering," he really meant "brazing."

Saying the steel bikes were soldered implied that they were weak, structurally unsound, because soldering is a low strength proposition.  As any BMX-riding electronics geek can tell you, soldering is a secure connection for wires and such that aren't under a structural load, but it's not for bunny-hops and double-jumps.  But brazing is a great way to make a strong bicycle frame that gives up nothing in strength to welded aluminum.

Like soldering, brazing involves connecting two or more metal objects with molten metal, but brazing is more precise.  With brazing, the parts are close-fitting and capillary action draws the molten metal into a thin gap between them (recall that when you dip a corner of a sponge into water, capillary action is what draws water up into the sponge, even against gravity).  In bicycle building, the parts are a steel frame tube and connections, called lugs, or other fittings.  The framebuilder liberally brushes a liquid called flux onto and all around the surfaces to be joined, which protect the metals from oxidation and other contamination.  He or she then carefully applies heat to the joint with a gas torch and touches a metal wire (silver alloy in higher-quality frames) to the gap between the parts.  The silver is melted and drawn into the gap.  Brazing is a fairly simple process, but one that takes years to master.  Good framebuilders know just how much heat to apply - too little and the gap won't be completely filled, too much and the steel will be weakened.  They also know where to apply it - the silver actually flows toward the heat source, so by directing their torch, they can make sure the gap is evenly and completely filled.  The close fit of the parts, the large surface area of their interface and the metal filler make an extremely strong joint; failures of brazed joints in well-made frames are beyond rare.  You'll pull a tube apart before you pull it out of the socket of a properly brazed connection.

As with many crafts, the brazed steel bicycle frame has been replaced in the mass market by cheaper materials and methods that are marketed as "improvements" to buyers, especially new ones.  But, as with many crafts, the professional bicycle framebuilder makes something of extremely high quality that is infused with his or her passion and can easily outlive its owner and be passed on to his or her children.

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"A" is for Amal

When trying to start on the Challenge, I noted that many bloggers are using an overall theme for the month.  For example, my friend Dana Martin, the one who tricked me into this thing, has the wonderful theme of gratitude.  At first I dismissed the theme idea out of hand; I didn't see myself coming up with twenty six blog entries on one theme.  But then I started on my first post, A is for Amal.  As in carburetor.  As in carburetors found on old Triumphs and other vintage motorcycles. That need to be “tickled” (primed, that is - the British have always had an inimitable way with words.) before operation.  That sometimes leak.  And have to be tuned properly to run their best.  Or, if you prefer, A can be for antique.  Old, imperfect, charming things.
  

Yeah, I like old stuff, for a variety of reasons.  And those reasons involve things like craftsmanship,  materials, engineering and making things.  I’m an engineer by trade, a Civil engineer to be specific, and I just love stuff.  I like materials, like metal and wood and soil, and I like the things that people make them into; machines and tools and gadgets and art and edifices.  And I quickly realized I’m not going to have a problem blogging on a topic for a month. Now, a theme isn’t going to make the challenge more difficult; it’s probably going to make it possible for me to do get through it at all.

I realized that I have thoughts on engineering and materials and machines and mechanics and processes that are not only fascinating to me, but might even be of some interest to the average person who sees these things mentioned here and there but probably doesn’t know much about them.  So, for the next month, if I pull this off, you’ll see everything from educational posts to fevered reveries on the virtues of forging.  And I'm going to learn some things too, maybe even about myself.

So, yeah, the sort-of topic that I'll sort-of stick to is Things.  What about A for Amal?  Yeah, I sort-of cheated there, but it wasn't on purpose.  You can see how one thing leads to another and how sometimes things end up going in a direction other than that intended, and that's okay.

If you're envisioning drying paint at this point, give it a try.  If you’ll stick with me, you might be surprised.  Or not; either way, please comment - I'd love to know what you think, good or bad.

Best Regards,

Jer

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2013 Blogging from A to Z Challenge

Yes, I'm a participant this year.  The President of our writing club (Writers of Kern) asked for participants and I said yes before even figuring out what it all meant.  Typical for me.  I wanted to back out, also typical for me, but I decided to be atypical for once, and I'm going make an actual commitment.  Signing on the dotted line adds the accountability factor needed to ensure I don't punk out on this like I do with most other things.  Honestly I'm a little worried.  At this point I'm hoping simply to rise to the level of mediocrity.  We'll see.  Bear with me as I get going on this on decidedly shaky legs, and good luck to my fellow bloggers!

Now, let's see, A...

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I Wonder

At this beginning of 2013 I'm curious whether anyone living more-or-less paycheck to paycheck still believes what our parents taught us, that if we work hard and save we'll eventually get ahead.  I wonder if any of my fellow class of '87 mates thinks they'll be retired at age 65 or carries on our parents' expectation that their children will be better off than they were.  Does anyone think we'll ever balance our national budget or pay off the debt?  Does anyone think we'll ever have a system in which the tax code isn't a 71,000 page monstrosity designed as a means for those in Congress to wield and retain power and reward their patrons?  Does anyone believe we're moving as a society toward more liberty and self-determination?  I can't answer yes to any of those questions and I wonder if anyone out there can.  And if you can't, are you going to do anything about it?

I think here's the problem with the book I'm writing.  I think I'm trying to control the story instead of just writing the characters and letting them live the story.  It's like I'm in a big parking lot pushing a line of thirty shopping carts.  I'm trying to steer them and they're not cooperating.  I need to quit trying to steer.  After all, I'm not working for Wal Mart where the manager expects to have all his carts in the proper place; I'm writing a book, where I won't get fired if they end up on the other end of the parking lot, and if I run them into a Corvette, it's OK, it's my Corvette because it's in my head.  Maybe I'll end up at the taco truck in front of the Home Depot and get some carne asada, or maybe I'll end up in the middle of Rosedale Highway and get run over.  Whatever; I need to just push the carts and just see where they go.  If I don't like it, I don't have to use it, but I may end up someplace unexpected and better than what I was planning.

Quickie Book Recommendation - Haslam's Valley by Gerald Haslam

I'm only 60 pages into Haslam's Valley, the short story collection by California fiction and nonfiction author Gerald Haslaam, but it's more than enough to declare it essential reading for anyone who lives or grew up in or around Oildale, CA and is proud or fond of that fact, or anyone who wants to discover the "Other California" between the two big cities.  Haslam has been writing and winning awards for decades, so I'm somewhat abashed that I'm just now discovering him, but better late than never.  I'll make this a full-blown review when I'm finished, but didn't want to waste any time in recommending it.  Bakersfieldians can find it at Russo's Bookstore in the Marketplace.

This Rat's Not Deserting a Sinking Ship. Just Yet.

I hear from various sources the clarion call to join other, sensible people in their exodus from the most insane state in the Union.  Every day, with every knuckleheaded politician elected and every nonsensical law passed, California seems more and more hell bent on driving business and ordinary people who would govern themselves with common sense out of the state.

And while I'd love to live closer to my parents and my brother's family, who several years ago fled to Texas, I'm resisting.  I'm heir to what was once a great state.  Arguably the most beautiful state, the most varied terrain and climate in the nation.  The rich identity and history of Bakersfield and Kern County are mine.  The mountains and lakes are mine.  Death Valley and the high deserts are mine.  The Central Coast, with its farms and forests and cool, cloudy beaches are mine.  Fresno, my home for twenty years, with it's vineyards and Nisei farmers and The ag, tech and aerospace industries are mine.  Disneyland is my kids' and Dodger Stadium (my "Happy Place," even when the Dodgers drop one) are mine.  It may be an insane asylum, but I'm not going to just hand it over to the inmates without a fight.