Dulce et Decorum Est

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, 

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, 

Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs, 

And towards our distant rest began to trudge. 

Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots, 

But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; 

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots 

Of gas-shells dropping softly behind. 

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling 

Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time, 

But someone still was yelling out and stumbling 

And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—

Dim through the misty panes and thick green light, 

As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. 

In all my dreams before my helpless sight, 

He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. 

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace 

Behind the wagon that we flung him in, 

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, 

His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin; 

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood 

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, 

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud 

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,— 

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest 

To children ardent for some desperate glory, 

The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est 

Pro patria mori.

-Wilfred Owen,

1893- 1918.

Tuesday, 10AM

As i was setting out for a ride yesterday, the alert siren down the street kicked into its weekly test. i could also hear the sirens from the surrounding communities rising and falling away in the wind.

i thought about my dad. Dad was born in a small town in Scotland and was a young boy when the Great World War broke out. His eldest brother, too young to go to France, spent the war in the Home Guard. My Grandfather, a former coal miner, was a publican, and had a good trade serving the Tommies and Kilties who passed through town on their way to shipping out.

Dad would tell me stories about hearing the German zeppelins fly over on their way to night raids on Edinburgh and Stirling.

Every Tuesday at 10:00 when the sirens sounded, Dad would stop what he was doing, cross himself (he was a devout Catholic,) and say a prayer.

i never asked who or what he was praying for, but i think i could guess.

The Devil

Don't ask...

A Tale of Three Cranks

One fine spring evening several years ago, i was riding home from work. My morning commute had been ridden rather vigourously and aggressively -i'd been running late for work as usual- and i was dodging buses and taxis along the busy main street as if i were sprinting for time bonuses.

   The evening turn was a bit more sedate. The rush-hour traffic wasn't that much lighter, but i didn't feel the need to ride particularly hard or fast.  As i pedaled away from a stoplight, my right foot was suddenly dangling and i felt and heard the crankarm ping along the pavement...

I'm nowhere near being a strong rider, even 20 years ago, so i couldn't begin to guess why a relatively new Campag crankarm had disintegrated thus. I doubt it even had 1500km on it- probably much less. It'd never been raced nor crashed. When i looked into whether it was a warranty issue, the dealer i showed it to pointed out the rash on the end of the arm and told me it was clearly abuse -it wasn't. The rash came from the drop onto the pavement. I now owned a genuine Campagnolo paperweight.

Even today i shudder to think about what may have happened if it had let go when i was storming through the morning rush hour traffic.

It was years later that i learnt that Campagnolo Record cranks suffered from a basic engineering design flaw. The crank arm met the spider with a sharp angle that hadn't been properly radiused, leaving a stress riser that would often cause a fracture. Here are some pictures by way of example:

Dark arc of oxidised metal showing extent of crack before fracture.

If like me you have spent time and some little bit of cash searching for and collecting vintage parts, i will advise caveat emptor , especially when looking on that Really Big Auction Site. Here are two examples i encountered:

Side view:

The other side:

Subtle...

The one above was returned to the seller for refund. He didn't argue the point. Here's the second example:

This one got by me. If i recall correctly it came with a bike.

I'm given to understand that this problem can be corrected by the judicious use of a rifler file to round out the sharp edges of the joint. I also understand that Campagnolo knew about this flaw for about the whole production run of these cranks but kept mum and never corrected the problem. i don't know and cannot say for certain that this was the case. i'll also add that i've had and used several of these cranks with no sign of fracturing  and the two in current use here get a good inspection every time i ride them. The crank that broke under me gave no sign by way of creaks or pops before falling away, but any unusual sounds from that region of a bike should not be ignored. Also, i have heard- but not seen- of similar failures among older Shimano Dura Ace cranks and other Campag-inspired cranksets.

Just a cautionary tale. YMMV.