KONA WO (2020) 29er Custom
ファットバイクを29erMTBにするためにホイールを組みました。
ファットバイクでキャンプツーリングをしたときに思ったこと、「別にファットタイヤじゃなくてもいい。むしろもったいない。」
僕がファットバイクを導入した理由は、冬でも乗れるからであって、その他の時期は別のバイクに乗る…つもりだったのですが、キャリア用のダボ穴があるバイクは現状この一台のみ。キャンプツーリング用に増車するほどの余裕はないため、「ならばファットバイクに普通のMTBタイヤを履かせよう」という発想に至りました。
フロント15x150mm、リア12x197mmのファット用ハブを市販しているメーカーは限られており、今回はその中でもハイエンドブランドのHOPE製のハブを選択しました。
リムは下り系やストリート系でお馴染みのSpank製。
重そうですが、その分丈夫そうでもあります。
すでに同社のシートクランプを使っていますが、やはり切削の質感と鮮やかなアルマイト塗装が素敵です。
手組ホイールで最も重要な要素となる、スポーク長の算出はインターネットの叡知を活用しました。
フロントが284mmに対し、
リアが286mmあれば組めると出てきました。
ゼロからホイールを組むのは今回が初めてだった僕は、この情報を鵜吞みして284mmと286mmのスポークを買いました。
結果、フロントは組みあがったものの、リアはどう頑張ってもスポークが届かず、組めませんでした。
FreeSpokeに記録されているハブとリムの採寸値から別のサイトで計算したところ、リアのスポークは297mmと算出。
冷静に考えれば幅が50mmも違うのに2mm長いスポークで29in.のホイールが組めるわけがない。この後いくつかの計算サイトで見比べると297mmだと長すぎると判明…
結果としては294mmのスポークを買い足して無事に組むことができました。
頑丈なリムのおかげか、横振れは素人でもかなりいい制度が出せました。
ちなみにPWTの振れ取り台だと197mmハブは広すぎてTAアタッチメントが使えませんでした。
タイヤはIRC TANKEN 29x2.6を選択。結構しっかりとしたブロックパターンの割にお値段がお手頃。
短期間で使い分けるつもりはないので、スプロケットは取り外して使うこととしましたが、ディスクローターは従前のセンターロックから6穴になるので、シマノ製RT-66を組みました。
もともと履いていた26x4.8との比較。外径はほぼ同じ。
実際に履かせると幅はスカスカ。外径もまだ余裕がある。
最初に部品を注文してから組みあがりまで2ヵ月近くかかりましたが、無事組みあがって一安心。
ここまで出来たのだから、もうバラ完も怖くない。
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Hopetech shows DTF digital textile printer at ITME 2022
Hopetech, a Surat-based supplier of large-scale industrial textile printer applications, showcased its direct-to-fabric (DTF) digital printing press with Quesera print head technology at the ITME 2022 show.
The pandemic has helped digital textile printing more than it has damaged, Billore told IPP. “When your routine is making progress, nothing can stand in your way. Innovation is something Hopetech roots for. Right from the design of equipment to the landing of technical solutions, and to the selection of spare parts, the company has always adhered to the business philosophy of ‘Hope lies in quality, to create value for the customer,’ and quality-oriented standards.”
Having been a global supplier for around two decades, Hopetech now aims to capture the Indian digital textile printing market. “This exhibition is solely a branding exercise to showcase our printer and our capacity and create awareness about our company. We are quite hopeful in our endeavor and the results we can yield,” he says.
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Snippet Sunday
Tagging: @bearlytolerant, @silurisanguine, @aro-pancake, @fangbangerghoul, @atonalginger, @aislingdmdt, @fshenkoescape, @ninjaofnaps, @lisa-and-shadow, @a-cosmic-elf, @thatsgoodsquishy0, @hockeydemon42, @fomagranfalloon@violenceandviolets, and @artemis-crimson
from stars through my fingers like grains of sand
Sam was already at the Rock when Cait got there; he was deep in conversation with the dark-haired senior Ranger she'd passed a few times. She didn't interrupt, just headed up the stairs to the Marshal's office. He wasn't one to waste words or time. "Welcome back. Any luck finding out who stole the ship from HopeTech?"
Blake's crisp efficiency cut through any lingering haze from the morning, and Cait could almost feel her spine straighten a bit more in reaction. "With Ranger Pryce's help, we tracked it back to a known ship-jacker name of Grace Early. From what she said, I still think it was an inside job, but I've asked Ranger Kalu for assistance with that aspect. She's better positioned to follow up in HopeTech itself. She had some physical evidence—an encrypted slate—which I've handed over to Ranger Hadid. He's asked me to keep an eye out for more of them."
"Good," he said. "I'm glad to see you know how to work as part of a team. And, it sounds like you're making real progress."
"Not as much as I'd like," she said grimly. "I have a couple names, but shutting down the First won't help unless we can get a tie to whoever hired them." Blake nodded, and she sensed agreement and approval in his tightly-controlled emotions. "Since you have personal knowledge of the First, sir, I was hoping you could give me some intel on these names: Maya Cruz and Marco… something. Marco's a money man. Cruz was the go-between."
Blake grunted. "I served with Maya Cruz. Technical genius and expert hacker. Arrogant. Not a people person. Marco… about the time he got out of jail, we started hearing his name in connection with a smuggling racket. Based on what you've learned, I'd presume he's funneling his ill-gotten gains to the First. Autumn MacMillan's looking into that operation out at the Red Mile, but…" He frowned. "He runs a tight ship, but one of his suppliers isn't quite as careful. Sonny di Falco. He's got a little estate on Maheo I. If you want my advice, I'd follow up there first before jogging Autumn's elbow."
Cait nodded. "As for Cruz, she was suffering from some kind of serious illness; I thought I'd start looking at the Clinic."
"Best medical services money can buy," Blake nodded again. "Good call. With their privacy guarantees, it's ideal for someone trying to keep a low profile. Ranger Ben Armistead is posted there; I'll send him an update on the situation. He'll be expecting you."
"Thank you, sir," she said.
"You're welcome. Just remember, your priority is to gather more intel on the First. What are they planning? Who are they working for? Where are they headquartered?" Blake fired out the questions like bullets.
"Whatever they're planning," she replied, "it's going to be something meant to hurt the Collective. They believe that the Collective betrayed them."
"That's right," he agreed. "Your targets were locked up because they were loyal to their unit and Major Hull. They won't take kindly to you sticking your nose in, so watch your back." He gave her a stiff nod of dismissal. "Good hunting, Deputy."
Cait echoed his nod and made her way back downstairs, thinking hard. All in all, she was inclined to take the Marshal's advice, start with the easiest nut to crack. Sam was sipping a Boom!Pop while chatting with Helga; he gave Cait a casual little wave of acknowledgment when she entered the bar. Despite her best efforts to keep his feelings at bay, she couldn't help but pick up fragments of his good mood. Cora's visit must have gone well, then. She paused a moment at the jobs console, giving Sam time to wrap up his conversation.
He caught up with her just outside the Rock. "Mornin'," he said cheerfully, handing her a Boom!Pop Cherry. "Sleep well?"
The question made her damn near fall on her face—How could he know?!—before she realized how impossible it was that he'd be referring to—that. "Fine," she said hurriedly, trying to fight down the flush she felt creeping up her neck. "Just fine, thanks." She took a deep, determined breath. "Um. You?"
"Oh," he chuckled, "I slept juuuuuuuuust fine." Cait didn't have to see Sam's grin to know it was there, an air of lazy satisfaction that thrummed down that weird little connection she had to him, sent a tingle down her spine and made her insides tighten. With an effort, she shoved it down, but she couldn't help but be hyper-aware of his presence next to her, warm and solid, and all she had to do was turn around and bring her lips to his—
Dammit! What the hell was wrong with her? She shivered, running her hands up and down her arms. Sam—of course—noticed, but fortunately he chalked it up to the cool of the morning. "You know," he said affectionately, "you wouldn't be so cold if you grabbed a jacket. Why don't you take mine until we reach the ship?"
He was already starting to shrug out of it when she blurted, "No—!" That no was the hardest thing she'd ever had to say; she desperately wanted to say yes, to surround herself in his warmth and his scent… and she was terrified of what might happen if she did. Had to remind herself that they were just friends. That he loved someone else. "No," she managed to repeat more normally, even smiling a little to soften it. "I appreciate the offer, but a little cool won't kill me."
"A'right," Sam said, settling it back on his shoulders. "So what's the plan?" He seemed different today—his emotions seemed more—muted—than usual, like he was holding something in. Cait should have been happy about that, given the trouble she'd been having tuning him out—but instead she felt bereft. Again—what the hell was wrong with her? "Cait—?" He sounded concerned, and she shook herself out of her thoughts.
"Sorry." She gave him an apologetic smile. "Um, Maheo I. Marco's got a smuggling contact by the name of Sonny di Falco; he's got an estate there. Marshal thinks we're more likely to be able to squeeze something out of him." Sam's emotions flared cold hatred, and when Cait chanced a look at him, his face was set in stone.
"I know him," he said, and his voice was as flat and hard as his expression. "He's a slimy bastard. Big shot on Neon, 'til he did something to cross Ben Bayu. Couldn't have been too bad—he got out with his skin in one piece—and he's still got his fingers in a lot of pies. If he's working with Marco, that's bad news all around." He looked at her, a strange, almost desperate intensity in his gaze. "You watch yourself with him. He has a lot of charm, he knows how to use it, and he's good at getting his hooks into the innocent and naive and—twisting them all up."
"And which am I?" she asked sarcastically.
He exhaled harshly. "That first one. Cait—" he held up a hand to forestall her protests "—when it comes to dealing with people like him… you are. He likes to think of himself as a collector of people, and you? You're—you're unique. He's gonna take one look at you and—" He shook his head, and something dark and savage surfaced for a moment in his eyes. "Just trust me on this one, okay? Do not agree to anything. Do not take anything he offers. 'Specially not Aurora. He'll get you hooked on that shit faster than a grav jump to nowhere." He was holding in his feelings so hard it had to hurt—all she got was a vague sense of mingled anger, hatred, and fear that burned like acid.
"I trust you," she told him softly. "If you say he's bad news, I will be extra careful." She hesitated. "Are you going to be okay going in there with me?"
"Don't even think of going in with someone else," Sam growled, shifting his rifle a little on his back.
"Okay." Cait didn't hesitate to give him her agreement. "I'll make sure you're carrying a couple extra junk flushes, then. I… don't react well to Aurora, so if he does manage to slip me some, you might need it."
"If he does, he's dead." Sam's voice cracked like a gunshot. Mood he was in, she wasn't going to argue.
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