Gear Water Bottle Sagas

DIY Water Bottle Holder for a Brompton

It’s taken more attempts than I could have imagined, but I finally have a water bottle holder I can live with on my Brompton bicycle.  It’s adapted from this Childress stroller/pushchair cup holder, widely available at infant goods stores and online.

cdchAs supplied, this cup holder was too shallow to safely contain my tall water bottles (though it might work well, as is, with others).  I added a cordura cuff at the top, reinforced with a thin strip of plastic*, setting the cuff inside the bound edge, and zigzagging it in place on my sewing machine.


The cuff is 1.75 inches/4.4 cm (without an allowance for the attachment seam), which brought the total height of the cup holder to just over 7 inches/17.8 cm.

To hold it in place on Basil’s handlebars, I sewed hook and loop fasteners to webbing straps, and attached the straps to the top edge of the holder.  For ease in use, and to make tightening the straps simple, I sewed rectangular loop locks on each end of the straps and ran the webbing through. (You can usually find loop locks at EMS or REI or other camping goods stores.)


The loops give enough leverage to fit the straps snugly against the handlebars.  Using this method also reduces the stress on the hook and loop fasteners, making them less likely to work loose.


Then I removed the cup holder’s original attachment loop — the large one on the left in the top photo — and changed its placement so that it circled Basil’s stem.

This part was a bit of a pain, since keeping the liner waterproof required hand-stitching the loop back onto the holder.  As much as possible, I used the existing needle holes to reduce wear on the exterior vinyl.


Once all the adjustments were made, I strapped the water bottle holder in place and we were good to go.  The interior is slippery enough that lifting the bottle out is easy, but it’s also just snug enough that the bottle doesn’t flop around.  The altered holder is sufficiently deep that the bottle doesn’t fly out when we go over bumps, and the insulation is a nice plus on hot days.


Love the little mesh bags — those are gels in the pockets.  A skinny cell phone would fit there, too.  Or keys, or whatever.  There’s elastic at the top, so the gels don’t fall out.

Best of all, this cupholder is crushable and it doesn’t interfere in any practical way with the slim fold of a Brompton.  Sure, it sticks out a bit, but it mashes flat at a touch, yet it pops up ready for use as soon as Basil is ready to ride again.


The pros?  Everything.  The cons?  It’s not elegant engineering, folks, and that pains me deeply.  But it works exactly the way it should, and I haven’t had to think about water bottle issues since I installed it.

*That plastic reinforcement?  I love using IKEA’s flimsy placemats for this kind of support.  Very inexpensive, very thin, and works like a dream!

Gear Water Bottle Sagas

A Look at the Monkii Cage and Holder

In my never-ending search for a solution to the Brompton water bottle problem, I ordered a Monkii V cage and clip from CycleMiles, in the UK.  CycleMiles, and Miles, in particular, were terrific — even following-up unexpectedly when the Internets failed, and I couldn’t complete the sale without additional help.  The Monkii, sadly, didn’t  work out quite so well.


It’s a very clever design, for which you need two relatively inexpensive parts:  the cage itself, which comes with adapter buttons for using with existing cage bolts, and the clip, which wraps around a bicycle stem to hold the cage in place.

Together, installed, they look like this (nice and sleek!):


To use, the Monkii cage is placed around a water bottle of just about any size (a cool feature!).  The bottle and cage are treated as one, and snap onto the clip on the bicycle stem.

The clip is quite unobtrusive on the stem, and I found that it holds very well; there was no slippage at all on Bssil’s stem.  It was rock-solid once installed, and installation, thanks to padding, leaves no marks on the bicycle chassis.


For genteel riding, it’s not necessary to snap the cage fully in place, but for more rugged terrain — or jumping rough patches — it’s best to snap the cage fully in place to secure it most snugly.  For whatever reason — and unique difficulties with my hands may be the reason — I couldn’t easily remove the water bottle assembly from the clip while riding.

That may be a personal coordination issue; it’s hard to know, but it made using the Monkii on the fly quite tricky for me.  That may not be true for most users, and certainly the positive snap of the clip addresses any issues of the bottle flying out during use.


The other difficulty I had with the Monkii was that old Brompton bugaboo:  placement.  Where can the water bottle go without interfering with the fold?  I placed the clip to the right side of Basil’s stem.  That allowed virtually no interference with the cables when folding (though I did watch them carefully).


However, I could find no position for the kit that didn’t interfere, at least a little bit, with steering, once the water bottle was in place – and that’s about as thin a water bottle as anyone would use. The inhibition was minor, and at first I thought I could live with it, but in the end I felt that the advantage of having full control over the steering was more important.

So, unfortunately, the Monkii didn’t work for me, or for my Brompton.  The clever and innovative Monkii is likely an excellent cage and clip for a variety of other situations — virtually any other bike, for example — but it wasn’t the answer for Basil and me.


Testing, Testing

We’re slowly adapting to a new normal here, what with shifted schedules and all, and I’m finally beginning to ride Basil a little more than I’ve been able to in the past few weeks.  At the moment, I’m testing the new Brooks Cambium saddle, and gradually extending the lengths of our rides.


The Cambium is a vegan departure from the famous Brooks saddle, made of linen and rubber — and designed with a very sleek profile.  So far, I like it very well, but I’ll need a few more longer rides to determine if this is the way to go.

Basil still looks a little odd to me when he’s got a light saddle.  That’s my fault:  my little workhorse Brompton is covered in black accessories.  If we go for the Cambium, we’ll have to get the darker version.


A Handle for a Brompton Bicycle

One of the ancillary benefits of immersing oneself in a Brompton weekend like the BNC is the opportunity to see, up close, a lot of the after-market stuff Brompton owners try out and use on their bicycles.  Dr. Diarist and I were very interested to see the Off Yer Bike handles.

The eagle-eyed will have already spotted the OYB handle on Basil in a previously published picture:


I’d seen these online, but, as ever, was reluctant to actually buy one without trying it out in person. Everyone who had one of these on his or her bike in DC raved about it, and now I know why.   My hands are too small to wrap around Basil’s frame, so I can’t easily lift him at the best fulcrum point; as a result, I’ve been wed to the Brompton stock saddle, with its handy grip just under the nose.  That worked, but the balance when lifting Basil was never quite right.

The Off Yer Bike handle changed all that. Even Dr. D, who easily carries both our bikes at once, is very pleased at how much simpler it is to wrangle our Bromptons with these handles attached.  I couldn’t be happier with it, too.   Lifting and manipulating Basil is a whole different, better, story now that he has a handle!

Installation is really simple, and just requires attention and a modicum of brute force to ensure that the velcro and straps are pulled tightly around the Brompton’s mid-section.


The down side?  It’s pricey.  But it’s strong, appears to be extremely well-made, and I expect it to last forever.  If you ship yours individually to the USA from the UK, you can expect to pay even more, but a few dealers in the US are now carrying it, which should save at least a little on p&p.

I bought ours from Bay Area Bikes in Oakland, California — they were fantastic at communication, gave great customer service, and shipped promptly.  If you are near Washington, DC., BicycleSPACE, hosts of this year’s Brompton National Championship, carries them, but they do not ship.

The other bummer?  I hate the way they obscure that beautiful Brompton frame.  But, you know: function over form*.  I don’t think that handle could be transparent and still do the job.

Also, I love the Off Yer Bike logo, and I’m happy that the OYB handle is made in the UK instead of  in a city-factory in China, but I’m cutting that white tag off ours.  It’s distracting to have a white blip flying on the frame, and white?  That tag is going to be really filthy in no time.

*Edited: originally wrote the line wrong.  Grrr. Busy week; no time!

Clothing Gear

Cleverhood Goes Suburban

When I saw Susan, of Cleverhood, again this year at the 5 Boro Bike Expo, she told me that she was working on a smaller version of her rain cape for those of us who are shrimpier than her typical customer.  (“Shrimpier” is not the term Susan used!)  When she suggested that I take one of the early models home to review, I jumped at the chance.


Cleverhood capes are beloved of urban riders, and why not?  This cape is no one-trick pony; designed for cycling, it works equally well for walking, catching a bus, or racing to the subway in a deluge.

Above all, this cape is a really attractive garment, melding the traditional and the quirky beautifully in one very utilitarian package — and it’s practical apparel anyone of any gender can appreciate.

Cleverhood’s secret is that it illuminates brilliantly (literally!) at night.  The fabric is so light and flows so beautifully that daytime use does not even hint at this super power.  This is huge for cyclists, but also a boon for dog-walkers, travellers, and anyone who walks at night near traffic.


This version, appropriately named “Electric Gingham“, is a classic gingham check, made so “mini” that it’s become something quite sophisticated; the contrast (waterproof) zippers (available in lime, as on mine, yellow, red and black) add a bit of fun.  I love that the illumination reveals a completely different look: a counterpane plaid.

Impressive, no?  (By the way, that super-bright “pop” at the lower center back is the normally discreet Cleverhood logo, which becomes something else when lit!)


The Cleverhood is very comfortable when worn; it’s so light that it’s easy to forget it’s there.  You’d expect a cape to billow when worn with cycling, and this one does, but it is so open, and the fabric so lightweight, that there is minimal wind-sail effect.  I did not find that it impeded my riding at all on short runs, and I’d expect the same on longer recreational runs, where the pleasure of the ride is the point, rather than setting a land-speed record.



Unconstrained, the hood is neither large enough to go over a helmet, nor small enough to fit sleekly beneath one.  The latter is less problematic than I thought it would be: I wondered if it would feel bulky under my snugly-fitted helmet, but, in fact, the fabric is so light that it is no more noticeable than a helmet liner.  A tiny, neatly-done toggle allows the hood to be adjusted to fit, and it makes all the difference, allowing it to fit neatly however worn.


In the image above, you can see how beautifully the sides of the hood are cut.  (I turned the brim back to make it more obvious.)  That’s really clever:  peripheral vision is not inhibited, and the brim is designed so well that it works exactly as it should, deflecting rain quite effectively. (You’ll need to turn it back down to get that benefit!)  The lower edge of the hood opening, too, allows complete freedom of movement:  coverage, but not restriction.

In spite of its size, the hood did not tend to fly off in wind; another indication that the cut has been thoughtfully done.  I don’t think I’ve ever worn a hooded rain garment that was anywhere nearly this well designed for function.


When I first tried on the Cleverhood at the Bike Expo, I thought it was way too broad in the shoulders.  Susan said no, it was meant to be cut that way to allow for carrying a messenger bag or a pack beneath it.  That made sense, and, in wearing the cape, it feels right, and the slight additional room in the shoulders, compared to everyday clothing, allows greater freedom of movement.


Beautifully finished openings for arms mean that a Cleverhood is maximally versatile; you can reach from under the cape, or, quite simply, directly through it.  Best of all, the openings have hidden magnets, so they close automatically once you withdraw your arms, and won’t fly open unexpectedly.  Rain and wind will not make their way into the cape through the openings, even though it’s quite easy to pop your arms in and out.


Tabs at each side allow cinching of the cape to make the profile more wind-resistant; I found that they were easy to use and worked well.


Internal thumb loops allow the cape to be held over the handlebars.  This they do effectively, but I ended up feeling that they compromised my safety on my bicycle considerably, by restricting my movement a bit too much in tight situations. I would probably not use the loops while cycling unless on a very predictable trail.  They are an asset when wearing the cape in all other situations, though, and keep the cape from twisting or shifting when moving rapidly by foot.

Water will pool in the apron of the cape when the thumb loops are used in rain, but beads nicely and is easily tossed off.  The water-shedding capacity of the Cleverhood is impressive, and I found that it kept me dry very effectively, and shed rain beautifully.


My other concern when cycling in the Cleverhood has to do with signalling.  While riding in traffic, I did not feel that I was able to signal effectively enough that I could feel confident that motorists understood my intentions.  That’s a serious issue in my book, and one not easily surmounted when wearing a cape-like garment.  That’s a potential difficulty with all riding capes, of course, not an issue strictly confined to Cleverhood.

Urbanites who don’t signal anyway — and they are legion! — are not likely to be bothered by this; in my part of the world, the Cleverhood is just what I want while riding cycle trails in rain. Hand signals are not an issue in those circumstances.


There is a loop at the center back neck where a light can be attached:  I love this loop, which is placed perfectly so that a light can be seen whenever the hood is up.  But the loop also means that the cape can be hung up without trying to get it to balance from the hood — a much easier proposition that also leads to quick drying.


The Electric Gingham Cleverhood strikes me as an excellent all-season rain cape for anyone; cycling is by no means the only use for this nifty cape. If I were an urban walker, for instance, a Cleverhood would be my all-season go-to garment — quick and simple to don, airy and light enough for steamy summer nights, and easy to wear over heavier winter gear.

I can’t imagine a better bit of travel gear, either; it’s stylish, light, extremely functional, and highly stow-able.  Each comes with a pack, and is easily slipped into or removed as conditions require, but this version, the Electric Gingham, also fits nicely into a small Eagle Creek packing cube, with a bit of room to spare.


Different weights of Cleverhood may not tuck in quite as well as the Electric Gingham,  but might work best under other circumstances:  There’s a beautiful brown corduroy version, too, for example!

Cleverhoods are pricey, but, in my estimation, well worth the cost.  Value for money comes from buying lasting goods that do the job — whatever it is — well.  Amortized over a useful lifetime, a high initial expenditure often turns out to be the most economical choice.  (Think Brompton bicycles!)  There’s another wonderful reason to buy Cleverhood, too:  Cleverhood is a USA firm, and, as noted on the website, Cleverhoods are “designed, crafted and manufactured in the US”.  Sweet — that’s buying power a consumer can feel good about!

The Cleverhood originallly featured in this review was a sample supplied to me for feedback on the new, smaller, size. It has since been returned to Cleverhood, but I was so taken with the cape that I bought my own, which was supplied at a discount.  Judge my words accordingly!

Clothing Gear

Basil, Upstaged

A long time ago, I saw this fascinating product online, but it was too odd to order speculatively, and I mentally filed it away as just another interesting idea.  It’s a sun (or rain) brim for a bike helmet.

db-tnWe saw the tan one, above, and the blue one, below, along with several others, at the BNC events in Washington, DC, this summer.  In person reviews from the owners were overwhelmingly positive, so I ordered one.  Dr. Diarist’s helmet doesn’t have a visor, and we thought this might work for him.


He hasn’t been riding much lately, so I gave it a whirl.  He’ll never get his hands on it again!  I love this thing:  I worried that it would act like a sail, but it stays in place perfectly, and, apart from allowing me to minimize my use of suncreen — sunscreen that, ironically, was destroying the skin on my face — it shades so well that I actually feel a bit cooler when riding.

db-dbOurs is high vis, of course, so it’s not nearly as unobtrusive as the more stylish models we saw in DC.  (The tan one looked, in person, a lot like a pith helmet!)  The brim/helmet combination is pretty big — between the screaming color and the size of it all, I expected to get a lot of flack for what I assumed would look like nerdiness taken to an absurd degree.

That’s not what’s happened:  People are stopping me to tell me how fantastic my brimmed helmet is.  The brimmed helmet that’s almost bigger than my bicycle.

Anybody who rides a Brompton will tell you that it’s important to figure that, on any given trip, you’ll spend at least a few minutes discussing your brilliant small bicycle with interested passersby.  It happens all the time.  Basil’s used to this; we even have a demo routine for the very curious.


Nobody — I repeat, not a soul — has asked Question One about Basil since I started wearing this brim.  He’s surprised, I think, but fortunately he’s quite secure enough that the interest of others is not a sustaining pillar of his existence.

(But really, a hat?!?)

It’s a Da Brim Sporty Cycling Helmet Visor.  (If you want more coverage, the Classic is even larger!) Pricey, but very well-thought-out, engineered so that it really works, and the company (in California, products made in USA) shipped very quickly, too.  This one’s for use with cycling helmets; equestrian versions are available, as well as several other styles, some of which offer just a visor in front.


A Cleaner Chain

I kind of love the post-ride currying Basil gets.  I wipe down his rims, removing any brake dust; give the spokes a swipe; carefully inspect and brush his tire treads with a soft manicure brush; and generally tidy and look him over.  Every ride, or every thirty miles, I also clean his chain, carefully, with rags, brushes and devoted attention.


I thought I was doing a brilliant job of maintaining his most important mechanical component.  Oh fool I!  Between the brushes in the image above is a slurry of muck dredged from Basil’s chain by a mechanical cleaner after I’d done my bit.

I’d read that the Park Tool Chain Scrubber did a rather nice job on bicycle chains, and did it faster than a human with a rag, a brush, and so on could manage.  Basil and I had cycled down to an LBS and picked it up, and I put it to the test, with these distressing results.

This is what Basil’s chain looked like before I used the Scrubber, and all that muck was extracted:


Really, it doesn’t look terrible does it?  (We had just gone through a couple of puddles on a short run just before I took this photo.)  And yet the Scrubber managed to pull that sludge, and who knows what else (that stuff is right above the magnet meant to catch metal particles so they won’t abrade the chain in use or while it’s being cleaned)  from Basil’s [theoretically] clean chain.  The horror!  The shame!

This was quite shocking, and I felt a bit of a failure.  There I was, confident that I was doing my best by him, and what?  It was as if I’d done nothing at all!  The evidence is incontrovertible — here is how Basil’s chain looked after:


The Chain Scrubber, that far more efficient cleaner, attaches to the lower bit of chain, and just fits on a Brompton.  You either use degreaser, or a bit of detergent mixed with water, and fill the device to a well-marked line.

Then you turn the bicycle’s pedals backwards thirty times.  I was initially clumsy at this, but soon got the rhythm right.  Steadying the device is necessary; allowing it to tip even slightly results in a puddle on the floor.  Also, pedalling too rapidly results in a slight fine spray.  Both mishaps are easily avoided, however.

You go through the process once, then rinse and refill the scrubber, attach it to the chain again, and pedal backwards thirty more times. Sadly, the Scrubber also managed to extract yet more sludge on the second go-round, though noticeably less than on the first go-round.


Then you dry the chain and lubricate it.  I can’t deny it:  Once the Scrubber had done its stuff, Basil’s chain glowed.

I’m solacing myself by noting that Basil is a sturdy soul, and not at all concerned with small failings in his cyclist.  He’s the type who always looks forward:  In this matter, I’ll take my cue from him.  And I’ll make sure to haul out the Scrubber regularly.  Lesson learned.


Toe Clips for a Brompton Bicycle

Last fall I ordered toe clips for Basil.  I knew that clipping in wasn’t a good idea for me; I’m just too clumsy to ever trust that I could unclip in sufficient time to avoid a fall (or worse).


zfOn group rides, I worry a lot about holding up the others (though I ride with unusually supportive people — all the more reason, though, to keep up my end, yes?).  I’d heard that clip-in pedals could mean a 15 percent boost in power, so I figured that toe clips must offer at least a little of that advantage.

A Brompton bicycle — specifically, the folding pedal — won’t accept standard toe clips, so Terry, at Alphabet Cottage in the UK, sells a kit with Zefal clips and special plates that accommodate the Brompton pedals.   Ordering was simple, the kit arrived promptly, and Terry is very good about communication.


The kit comes in a couple of versions, based on Brompton model year.  Installation was easy, once I figured it out, but the instructions provided with mine appeared to be for a slightly different kit — and the illustrations were extremely faint, and ultimately not helpful.

After installation, I meant to go back and add thread-locker.  I was sorry that I’d forgotten to do so when one clip loosened during a ride.  I’d recommend sloshing that thread-locker on at the start; if you lose your original screws, you’ll end up with mis-matched ones, as below:


I debated which size toe clips to get, since my cycling shoes are Keens, and have an extremely boxy toe.  The S/M toe clips, described as fitting “up to shoe size 8 (UK); 8.5 (US); 42 (EU)”,   just fit my size 4/6.5/37 Keens; anyone wearing larger Keen cycling shoes might want to go up to the next size.  Standard cycling shoes, with a narrower toe, wouldn’t present this dilemma.


My Keen shoes don’t “lock” into the cage, as standard cycling shoes might.  Nonetheless, they stay put, and don’t slip out while riding.  Yet I can easily remove my foot without risk of entanglement, and I don’t have to think about how to turn my foot to do it.  For a rather uncoordinated cyclist like me, this is a real advantage, and a critical safety factor.

The clips do affect the fold somewhat; I take pains to make sure that the toe clip is against Basil’s tire, not against his spokes, but this immediately became intuitive, and doesn’t slow the process at all.  When walking an unfolded Zefal equipped Brompton, you’ll need to keep the bicycle upright, as there is little clearance between the dropped toe clip and the ground; again, this is an easy accommodation.


Weight doesn’t seem to be much of an issue; the toe clips are quite light, and the adaptor plates aren’t heavy.  (You will lose the reflector on the folding pedal, which gets swapped out for the adapter plate, though the effect on weight is likely to be minimal.)

Open toe clips can be used with street shoes as well as with cycling shoes or trainers; that was a big plus for me.  I almost always ride with cycling-specific footwear, but wanted the option to use whatever, whenever.

Do the toe clips give me the edge I hoped for?  Well, I don’t really know; however, I’ve learned to love them.  I do believe they increase the power of my upstroke, and I find I like the sense that each foot is firmly set in the correct place on the pedal.  At a minimum, they’ve made me a more confident biker.


Metal Chain Guard for a Brompton

Nearly everything on my Brompton bicycle is just about perfect, but there’s no denying that Basil’s chain guard does not represent Brompton’s finest hour.


Basil is a 2012 Brompton; his chainguard is plastic, or a nylon-like plastic, or something of the like.  It’s held in place, more or less, with rivets of the same material, which mate to the metal chain ring.

I say “more or less” because the rivets wear, which causes the guard to warp slightly, which allows the guard wires on the wheel to catch every now and then, and, eventually, the chain guard pops off and is rendered useless.

When the rivets on Basil’s original guard popped, I had NYCeWheels replace it, though it seemed obvious that the replacement was likely to exhibit exactly the same fault.


As expected, it wasn’t long until the new plastic guard began to warp.  You may or may not be able to make out the beginning of the end in the image above.

I procrastinated long enough that eventually Mr. Orange posted a solution to this vexing problem.  He replaced the original guard on his orange titanium Brompton with a metal one from Tiller Cycles in the UK.


Tiller makes the chain guards (click on the section called “Brompton Bling“) in a wide range of Brompton colors and in two non-coated variations.  My inclination was to go for black, stainless or aluminium, but Dr. Diarist suggested that I really should match Basil’s Brompton yellow.

cg-pgThis seemed a bit much, but, on the other hand, Mr. Orange’s Brompton did look quite nice with its new ornament, so I sent off for one in Basil’s frame color.  It arrived quite promptly, neatly attached to a piece of cardboard.

cg-cmThe Tiller guard is just marginally larger than the original, but the mounting points match perfectly.

Installation (and removal from the backing) was facilitated, naturally, by Brompton’s sweet little ratchet set.


Tiller’s note reminds customers to set all the bolts before tightening, and I remembered, from years gone by, to tighten every other bolt in order to keep stresses even while going along.

Stainless spacers hold the guard away from the chain.


I sensibly used thread locker during installation, and I’ll remember to check the bolts now and then just to make sure that they stay tight.


When the bicycle is folded, the fold guard wires do make contact with the chain guard, so I expect that the pristine beauty of that paint job may not last.  From that standpoint, the polished stainless or aluminium may have been the better choice.  We shall see.


However, unlike the original guard, this one is unlikely to deteriorate in the course of ordinary use, and should not warp over time.

cg-nwThe new guard is a thing of beauty, and the color match perfect.

Basil, as he originally appeared:


And newly ornamented:


Basil is not as conservative as I am, and appears to be quite pleased with both the practical and aesthetic aspects of this change to his armature.

For those of us in North America, this is a costly bit of kit, particularly as postal rates are extraordinarily high — nearly the price of the guard itself.  (UK customers will presumably find the price to them more palatable.)  However, I expect the purchase to prove to be a good one, and I am relieved that I am no longer continually watching the original guard and wondering when it will finally fail once more.

There is a great deal to be said for having solved a nagging problem once and for all — and, of course, the expense of Basil’s flash new trim can reasonably be offset by what each new plastic replacement might have cost.

It has crossed my mind that Argyll might look quite smashing with a sage green guard; however, he is a 2013 Brompton, and his own chain guard is screwed firmly on, Brompton having addressed the issue, as they do, ongoing.  Argyll will have to argue his case on aesthetics alone, rather than practicality.  We will see what Dr. Diarist says to that .  .  .


Brim on a Nutcase

I love my Nutcase Watermelon helmet; it’s the one I wear all winter long.  At a bike expo last year, I bought a brim for it.


The brim seemed like a silly idea:  How could something so small make such a difference?  It did, as it turns out; it blocks just enough light, and is kind to my eyes.


The brim is just friction-fit to the helmet.  Over time, the slot appears to have widened, and the brim now has a tendency to slip out at inopportune moments.

I’ve actually found it on the ground a couple of times, when carrying the helmet.  That’s not good.


Apparently, the styrofoam inner shell is compressing a bit, widening the gap into which the visor friction-fits.  That’s not a particularly cheering thought, though I suppose the square-inchage (so to speak) involved is pretty small.

I’m loath to use an adhesive to hold the brim in place; that could do a really nice job of neutralizing the foam shell.  Maybe Nutcase will come up with a better solution?  I’d like that — I’m quite used to the brim, and will miss it if it disappears one day.