Richard Sachs Cycles

[Mark Walberg]

It's a visual language, not spoken. I understand it. But never hear it. I know it when I see it.

A file in the maker's hand is communication. The tool and the surface it's rubbing up against.

To rearrange metal or to blend it seamlessly is a quiet yet deliberate chat held daily at my bench.

I’m an eavesdropper listening to a conversation about strokes and shapes and file marks.

There’s a perfect amount of effort. It’s controlled and unscripted simultaneously. Like jazz.

Look closely. Every scratch tells a story. But only one scratch tells you the story just ended.

All This By Hand

I'm happy to say that I get it.

[e-RICHIE]

There's a balancing act of chaos when I stand at the bench to make a bicycle frame. The part I love the most is the part after the very beginning. When the pipes are mitered and I'm sure all the interference fits meet a standard. That's when the torch is lit for the first time. Little pieces of metal balancing on round tubes. Each has a function and an exact place to be. The tactile senses are heightened when the smell of an oxyacetylene flame dances on a pile of surrendering paste flux. But when the business end of the brazing rod I'm holding begins its travel under and ever-so-slightly around every joint - that's when I become overloaded. The scent of heat and the mastery necessary to shepherd molten filler into places only I command it to go. Nothing after this is better.

All This By Hand

[e-RICHIE]

There's a little known side of me that involves tears. The kind that flow from eyes. I cry easily. Ya know - like at the end of the Jerry Lewis Labor Day Telethons. I cried for most of the film, Miracle. I've seen it often. I even watched the game live in 1980. And cried. In American Beauty when Ricky Fitts narrates as a paper bag falls prey to the breeze. Whoa. And at the end of Friday Night Lights when a Hail Mary pass is thrown and the ball lingers, and lingers, and then comes down months later, in a stadium where a completely different team practices. Maybe it’s just me, but my ducts well up no matter how many times I see that.

I also tear up when I see a rider conquer a magnificent course and ride in solo to a finish line filled with thousands of fans, the streets lined with bunting and advertising banners and all sorts of celebratory shit. To separate himself from all the others with numbers pinned on, using guile and cunning, and hopefully rim brakes and a mechanical group. From Campagnolo. I love a good drama played out. I'm a drama queen. And I cry almost but not quite on cue. And I always thought, I always knew, that if I ever even got close to winning a big one that I wouldn’t be able to contain myself. To be continued. Maybe.

All This By Hand

[e-RICHIE]

Bicycle racing is an old sport. It's a pre-war sport. It's a pre-motorsports sport. It's a pre-televised sports sport. It's a workingman's sport. Think boxing. A game run by old and retired former racers whose male-dominated and closed backroom culture have been in the DNA since forever. It's a bit charming from a distance. But when I put my on enlightenment lenses and look at the big picture, my sport just seems so dated, so icky, so corrupt.

It's so beautiful to watch. It’s so difficult to ponder. It’s been my muse since I first learned about these hard men in Europe whose stories dominate a history that's so rich. It's European rich as opposed to rich with lore that includes my own countrymen and in my own country. There’s something so old-school and colorful about the lot which may explain why bicycle racing speaks to me. Often, I listen. At times I ignore. The sport makes a sound that can’t be unheard.

All This By Hand


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[e-RICHIE]

I’m giving down. That’s a term I use when I change my mind. It happens rarely. But when it does, I own it.

The Richie-Issimo 2.0 fork topper was conceived in 2009. It became a reality some time in 2013. I loved it.

After a season or three the bloom was off the rose. Was I reaching? Too many competing design elements?

I shelved the part. Picked up the pieces. Went back to using the 1.0. Until a month ago. Then I had a rethink.

I gave up on the 2.0. I never knew why. The shapes called to me one night. We talked it out. We’re a thing again.

All This By Hand

[e-RICHIE]

All of it revolves around elegance. You want the lugs thinned a bit. Eliminate high and low spots. Make sure the flow is complete from top to bottom from side to side from front to back and that the same intention spreads to each lug so the job is the sum rather than the parts.

All This By Hand

[e-RICHIE]

To a pile of tube and lugs, this is what content looks like. No hyperbole. No self-adoration. Or links to other links with links.

Real content has meaning. Just enough to fill the empty spaces. And not a word or a phrase extra. And certainly no hashtags.

All This By Hand



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[e-RICHIE]

2020 Vision
A four hour day. Most of it within the quiet of Cockeponsett. Where I disappear on roads yet still see myself. But not what I’m riding towards. What a year (so far.)

2020 Hindsight
A four hour day. Most of it within the quiet of Cockeponsett. Where I disappear on roads yet still see myself. But not what I’m riding from. What a year (so far.)

2020 Juggling
A four hour day. Paying attention to what's ahead. Aware of what's behind. To balance with such ease. Yet to realize balance is what's missing. What a year (so far.)

All This By Hand

[e-RICHIE]

No Pins

‘Cross is coming. But the Richard Sachs Cyclocross Team is sitting this season out.

In light of the health risks related to COVID-19, RSCX will stay off the parcours in 2020. Even if racing does return this autumn, we won’t. This was a difficult decision to make, and I deliberated on it for most of the spring. It’s the right choice.

We’ve been looking forward to what was going to be a rebuilding season. Several new riders. A change in management. And of course, new colors, kits, and bicycles.

Since February, House Industries has been working on our annual style changes for graphics and apparel. I have a motherlode of garments in the process of being printed and sewn. And there are 15 team frames at the paint shop. I‘ll figure out what to do with these later. In the wide picture, none of it matters.

Many things do matter in 2020 but cyclocross isn’t on the list. As a team, we’ll do our best to be good citizens of the world, and continue as ambassadors for cycling. Competition, and pinning on numbers, can wait.

I want to thank the folks at House Industries, as well as simplehuman, RADIX, The Chiu Family, Rajanaka Yoga, and TEXmarket USA for their support. These thanks are extended to industry partners Cole Wheels, Challenge Tires, Stages Cycling, Giro Sport Design, Connex Chain, and Crankbrothers.

RSCX is a direct descendant of the club system that defined bicycle racing when it found me. Started as CYBC (Connecticut Yankee Bicycle Club) in the late 1960s, I entered the fold in 1973. In 1981 my business became the title sponsor. A road-centric group for many decades, I made the decision to veer over to cyclocross in the middle 1990s. As a family of brands we’ve been on the playing field for the last 39 years. The streak ends now.

Stay healthy. Look after others. Be kind. Vote. And never fucking relent.

See you next year.

All This By Hand

[Ras72]

Vote.

For the love of whatever you stand for, please vote.

[e-RICHIE]

It was an idea that percolated and taunted me for years. And then one day I just walked up to the bench and did it.

In my forth quarter I’m deconstructing as much as I can in an effort to pare down everything that isn’t essential.

The B.I.F.I.™ rears became a thing in 2018, but only after years of study. Now the matching fronts are a thing too.

All This By Hand

[rwsaunders]

New nickname for your XC team, e-R... Les Bleus.

[e-RICHIE]

Saturday. Five hours. My first two bottle day. And one pack of Clif Bar Bloks In strawberry. Love these. They’re like Chuckles but without the colors. I think Chuckles would be a better snack to grab but with the plague, social distancing, and shopping with masks, it’s easier for me to stock up using my QBP account.

Rode up to Haddam and across the river. Did some climbing in Moodus and environs. I love that word, environs. It’s not used enough in daily conversation. I just used it twice. Environs. Three times. Some of the backcountry around Moodus is a bit spooky. It reminds me of the death marches I did in Franklin County.

There are pockets of wilderness east and north of here that take me away. Abandoned summer camps. Hard scrabble farms in abundance. That’s also a word (abundance) that needs more airtime. An hour of pedaling from my driveway and I’m in another world. By car it could be a third the time. And I wouldn’t need the bottles.

These are the days I come home drained. Empty. Feeling alive as well as dead, but more alive than dead. That much pleases me. Riding this year, especially since the plague thing, but particularly because I decided to leave racing after 2019 - riding this year is like my own personal Summer of ‘42. Each time feels like my very first.

All This By Hand

[e-RICHIE]

What were you doing in 1979?
I was getting ready to make this.
The 394th RS branded frame.

All This By Hand

[e-RICHIE]

And when they’re not in my hand, pushing and pulling metal into different shapes, or playing hide and seek (especially the small sinewy ones), the little tools sit on my bench, wait patiently for their next moment, and watch my life go by.

And just like the people who make and sell, and even use these, they come and they go. They arrive with an edge, but eventually get old and become dull. It’s not much different for us. We want to stay sharp and useful, and not be replaced.

All This By Hand

[e-RICHIE]

Another five yesterday. And for most of the summer my fascination with the back (way, WAY back) roads across the river continues. Moodus and parts of East Haddam call my name. I open up Google Maps before I leave the driveway, and look for places to get lost in.

For those following, I’m trying to connect loops I know but stay off any state roads. If it has a number, I avoid it. If the word “hill” is in the name, I’m there. Lack of pavement? Yes, come to papa. And I’m sure many of these places lack cell service.

Here are some new gems to consider. And they’re all within the two towns mentioned above. Stockburger Road. Desmond Road. Bogue Lane. Juda Lane. Old Orchard Road. Sims Road. Silas Holmes Road. Bone Mill Road. Okay - go out and get some.

All This By Hand

[Moke]

What size tires you running there Richard?

[e-RICHIE]

What size tires you running there Richard?

Back and forth between Paris Roubaix (28mm) and Strada Bianca (30mm).

[e-RICHIE]

And in a heartbeat, we’re done. My last ‘cross bicycle, off to a new home half a globe away. With it goes my two sets of racing wheels along with a metric shit ton of Force 10 new and used spares I hoarded so I’d never be without. Alas.

My first CX season was 2002. I’m a roadie by practice. Everything that ever pulled me further into the trade came from the road side. By the middle nineties my head was straying. That’s when my sponsorship dollars were still evenly split.

It took me a few years to draw the shades, but by Y2K they were down. All my efforts would be thrown at the fall season. And eventually I’d pin on numbers too. It didn’t come easy. At times it was ugly. But I found my lines by 2005.

I raced a lot of cyclocross. But really, I raced because that’s what RSCX does. There’s a direct link back to my time in London where and when the sport was real. My heart stopped when I saw EDV win his seventh W.C. at Crystal Palace.

My last start was DCCX in October 2019. I knew the tank wasn’t just empty, it wasn’t even attached. I don’t and can’t race “just for fun.” When I was no longer able to start on the first row, or near it, or make an impact, it was time.

‘Cross was always a mistress. The woman who stands three feet away. The one I’ll never figure out much less know as intimately as I do in my fantasies. It’s a part of cycling I never mastered. I leave wondering if I tried hard enough.

All This By Hand

[happycampyer]

May the Campy be with you.