The Arizona Fixed Ol’ Farts were at it again a while back. Actually they’re always at it, but this time they brought a camera. The camera was to celebrate a Double Conversion, which is somewhat like a Harmonic Conversion but on a smaller scale. Both bike and rider have met in soulful union.
Geoff, my riding buddy of 30 years, has spent half of those years being hounded to experience the fixed feeling. He finally gave in so Phil converted his ’71 Paramount to a 70” fixed. And what a conversion it is: new wheels, new stem (the Cinelli had cracked), new decals ($80!), a complete rebuild, and rewrap. There isn’t a Beverly Hills plastic surgeon alive who could match the end result of Phil’s rejuvenation of that old girl
Consequently, an overnighter was the order of the day for Geoff’s maiden voyage.  Now you’re dealing with three old timers here. We learned long ago that touring means steeds of hand built steel for the best combination of comfort, performance, and class. Geoff’s vintage Paramount, Phil’s custom-tailored 2003 Vanilla, and Craig’s highly functional Volkswagen-like Kogswell Model G.
We decided on a motel (read: old man’s) tour to the ex-Cow town gone Retirement Ranchettes community of Sonoita, Arizona, roughly 3000’ higher and 45 miles south of Tucson. Getting out of town (2200’) isn’t too difficult, about an hour of riding through the cancerous development eating away at the Sonoran Desert. Then you hit the high desert grasslands along Highway 83 and climb up to Sonoita Pass (5000’) in the oak woodland/grassland transition zone. A 70’ gear has done OK up to the base of the pass, but the test of truth is coming.

We stop at a highway ramada (rest area) before starting the real (versus gradual) climb. From here to the pass is about 4 miles of a 6%-8% grade. With a light load and patience Geoff learns that 25 rpm’s on a fixed can be strenuously enjoyable and you can carry on a conversation while you’re at it. I had rigged my Kogswell with a 1936 Sturmey Archer TF hub (2 speed fixed with 69’ and 53’ gears). Pull the lever and you are gliding up an incline without so much as a Howdy doo Ma’am.

Of course, Geoff and Phil pull away like banshees, the guilt becomes too overwhelming, and I flip back into my 69” gear, never to return to that sweet little 53 (I’ll save it for solo tours). Unfortunately, in order to catch up, my out-of-the-saddle climbing pulled a muscle deep in my right shoulder that still hurts almost two weeks later. This getting old is for the birds.
At the top of the pass the girls wait for me and take in the view. To the south are rolling grasslands dotted with oak and juniper (desert cedar). 10,000 years ago it was home to wooley mammoths and those who hunted them. Mammoth bones, some pierced with Clovis points, still erode out of the washes. Mexico is on the far horizon. 200 years ago it was the site of one of the largest land grants in the Spanish Empire. To the southeast are the hills where James Stewart battled Apaches and bad men in Winchester ’73 (1950). To the west a New Age battle is being fought over some of the prettiest country in southeast Arizona. A defeat in that battle will result in an open pit mine the size of a small city.
Twelve miles of rolling road bring us into Sonoita and the Sonoita Inn, an exact copy of a huge Connecticut barn (a tad bit out of place but what the hey). Each room is dedicated to one of the many ranches that have existed in this area for the past hundred and twenty-five years. The walls are covered with current and vintage family photos from each ranch. The owner of the Inn was also the owner of Secretariat, the famous racehorse. Secretariat memorabilia is scattered over the lobby. From the second story you can look out a picture window to the hills where Howard Hawks directed John Wayne and Montgomery Clift in Red River (1948).

After settling down in our room, we notice a fine spread of wine, cheese, crackers and fruit in the main hall below. Geoff asks if this is included with the room. “You bet,” says our host. Like vultures on roadkill we descend onto that table and begin imbibing the local wares. This part of Arizona is not only cattle country, but it’s wine country also. And pretty good wine too! “My you boys downed that fast. Would you like me to get you some more?”  “Yes Ma’am.” And it kept coming.
The remainder of the evening was spent dining at the Steak Out, one of Arizona’s better steak houses, listening to Bluegrass and Western. The Steak Out doesn’t serve those tasteless eastern factory-raised cattle. Here you’ll get a richer, leaner, grittier, half-feral range-fed horned denizen of the desert. And it will be mesquite grilled to perfection. (Geoff’s a veggie. Gawd I love ripping flesh from bone in his presence.) You know this place is good because the locals are in equal numbers to the tourists. You sure can tell the difference too. Down jackets, polarfleece pants, and new hiking sneakers mix with honestly worn-in Levi’s, canvas jackets, and pointy-toed boots with the occasional pair of spurs. All the while our barmaid kept us supplied with Bass Ale and Guinness on tap
Morning had us taking off in temperatures in the mid-20’s, but a slight tail wind helped keep the cold at bay. The ride was generally downhill now, so spinning was Geoff’s lesson of the day. Once over the pass it was about 30 miles of spinning too. By the time we got back to Tucson the woolies had changed to shorts and t-shirts as the temperature had risen to 67 degrees, typical for the desert.
So there you have it people, a quick overnight sojourn for Three Old Farts on Fixed Gears. Hope you enjoyed the pics and wit(less) meanderings, and if you ever plan a trip out here give us an email and we’ll tell you where to go.