Fox Racing has issued a gentle reminder to all you dirt riders who like to cut corners on your equipment
to save a buck or avoid a trip to the shop: On that cool 29er you’ve been piecing together for the past year, don’t use a fork that’s designed, built, tested and certified for a 26-inch wheel.

Use this one. It’s intended for 29-inch wheels. You can tell cos it says “F29″ right on it.

True, it’s frustrating that there are so few decent forks for 29ers. That, and the interchangeability of disk-compatible hubs irrespective of wheel size, make it awfully tempting to shortcut manufacturer recommendations.

Like your mom told you: If you do it anyway, you won’t have anyone to blame but yourself.

A few weeks ago, I was talking to some friends about preventing bike theft. First, we agreed that locks are no guarantee — they just buy you time. If you want, say, 24 hours of downtime while you’re singing sonnets beneath the Capulet balcony, you’re going to want at least two locks. If Juliet lives in Battery Park, go with three U-locks, a depleted Uranium chain, and a private security guard.

Then we started exploring the opposite theory: Ride a bike that is so devalued, despicable, disgusting, or otherwise repellent that you could never give it away, even to a desperate crackhead trying to scrape together 20 cents for a trial-sized bottle of Scope.

Short of the classic sheep-dip or shinola scenarios, we came up short.

One of my buddies turned up this photo of a bike encased in a tent-worm colony — yeah, that’s pretty gross. I definitely wouldn’t fight my way through a bunch of legless bloodsucking larva to get at the citybike hybrid under there somewhere, even though it looks like it’s got a sweet headlight.

And then just today, Dominic Wilcox caught my eye. He’s developed a whole line of bike decals that imitate rust, bubbled paint, and deep frame scratches. Wilcox says,

“I have stuck them to my shiney new red bike and can confirm it hasn’t been stolen yet. 13 days of not being stolen in London probably equates to 7 years of non-stealing in the friendly countryside. ”

I’m not entirely convinced that a serious bike thief is going to be entirely convinced that my unpainted titanium 29er is inexplicably oxidizing, but still. I once fooled my jerkwad boss so badly with those fake bullet-hole decals in his rear quarterpanel that he called 911. Of course, the ignition-enabled smokebomb under the hood helped too….

Why is it that every time I build a wheel without the book by my side, I mess up and have to rebuild it?

My theory is that I read one book and stuck by it–Jobst Brandt’s The Bicycle Whee. That book was difficult for me to follow, and while I dug some of the theory stuff, it talked over me head at the time. I built about 6 or 8 wheels with that book by my side.

Then one day, someone told me about a “simpler, much simpler book.” I’ve come to know it as “the other wheelbuilding book,” as there are really only 2 books written on the subject. The Art of Wheelbuilding is another comprehensive look at building wheels, but in my opinion, offers and more clear and easy way to assemble a 3-cross spoked wheel.

It’s my theory that despite the Art of Wheelbuilding’s clear instructions, my background steeped in two schools of thought is so mixed and convoluted that it’s nearly impossible for me to get it right.

And after all this is said and done, I still couldn’t pass a wheelbuilder’s vocabulary test—what the hell is a pulling spoke?