My Crusade - Opinion
There’s a look some people get when they think you are absolutely bat shit crazy.
I know the look well, which probably says more about me than I’d like to admit, but I’m having a hard time being introspective at the moment. Why? Because I’m on a goddamn crusade. Nothing short of an epic quest of good versus evil.
![banner]()
Admittedly, it didn’t start out that way. It began like this: I went to the hardware store in search of a bottle of Loctite 243.
For the record, I did not envision this simple errand sprawling into a journey into the very bowels of hell. This is Loctite, after all, and not the Holy Grail, the Lance of Longinus (aka, “The Spear of Destiny” that Hitler was such a fan of) or The One Ring.
It Began in a Secret Laboratory
What is Loctite? If you are that rare soul who has never turned a wrench in their life, the name may elude you. Okay then…
Loctite was born on a dark and stormy night (I’m making that part up, but it sounds good) in 1953 when Vernon K. Krieble had a eureka moment in his underground lair (i.e., basement laboratory in Hartford, Connecticut). At the time, Krieble was experimenting with anaerobic adhesives. The result would become what just about every swinging dick knows as Loctite—that goop you slather on bolt threads that keeps said bolts from loosening and backing out after they’ve been vibrated a bunch. The stuff has been around for decades now. It works. It smells sweet, but will assuredly kill you if sprinkled on top of your breakfast cereal. It is, after all, a threadlocker. What’s more—and this part is relevant to my tale—you can readily buy the crap at just about any hardware store.
But not this time. Let’s go back to me getting the look that suggests I’m a complete nut job.
![loctite]()
In the Bowels of the Home Depot
I’m standing before a man—an expert in his field—let’s call him “Jack”, it’s what the badge on his orange vest declares. And Jack is having a hard time. A real hard time dealing with the absolute barrage of bullshit flowing from my mouth. His eyes dart left and right. He is looking around for help. Maybe Sally or Doug in the Plumbing Department can come to his aid…
For the record, here is what I said to our man, Jack.
“Hi. Do you know where I can find some Loctite 243?”
Blank stare. It lasts about seven seconds. Maybe I haven’t given Jack enough substance to run with here. I try again.
“You know, Loctite—it’s the liquid threadlocker. The version I’m looking for is a blue, medium-strength formula.”
More blank staring.
“So, yeah, it comes in a little red bottle with a white top…”
Jack finally reaches into his pocket and pulls out some kind of store directory app on his smart phone. He starts typing. He frowns. Swipes a few times. Then he speaks.
“Dude, you’re totally in the wrong department. It’s over in Paint and Wallpaper.”
Ah, I know where Jack has gone wrong. You see, “Loctite” is, technically speaking, now a name brand that includes several home improvement products including window sealants and general purpose caulking supplies, which, of course, can be found in the Paint department of this particular store. I know this because of two facts:
(1) I am not an idiot; and
(2) This is the fourth goddamn hardware store I have been to today and every single time I have asked the people at Lowes or Ace Hardware or Home Depot where they keep the Loctite (I assure you, I ask this in a calm and friendly fashion), they have all directed me to the paint department. Every time. Without f*ckin’ fail.
![falling down]()
This is Why My Eye Twitches
I am now three hours into my search for an $8 bottle of threadlocker. What the hell? It’s as if I am asking for permission to casually browse through their top-secret stashes of plutonium or peruse their stolen ancient artifacts collection.
Look, I get it—the hardware store is full of mysterious and confounding items like shovels and rakes and garbage disposals. It’s probably challenging to keep track of it all. Fair enough. But did Jack and all the other vacant store clerks I have grappled with today not hear me say “threadlocker”? Are we not standing in the damn Screws/Nuts/Bolts aisle? This is where Loctite belongs. And yet I have thoroughly combed this aisle and the other aisles on either side of it before I gave in and approached Jack. Because, dammit, at this point I know Jack isn’t going to be able to cough up the goods on this one.
What Sets Bike Geeks Apart From Everyone Else
So, three hours and 15 minutes after I began my journey, I find myself trudging back to the car. I will pull out my laptop. I will summon the awesome power of Amazon.com and I will get that bottle of Loctite 243 sent directly to my doorstep tomorrow. There’s a new swingarm that needs mounting. There are bolts that need to be tightened… that little red bottle of Loctite 243 will be mine. Oh, yes it will.
![wrecked]()
I used to work in the same building as a bunch of ski, snowboard, skate and surf magazines. The editors at those magazines were always dumbfounded by how intense we were about testing the products that showed up on our pages. “Why do you guys spend all that time riding those bikes? We just print the catalog copy.”
I’d hear that and a little part of me would always die.
Bike nerds are different. I may disagree with something another bike editor writes, but I rarely doubt that he or she went out and rode the test bike a bunch. They are fellow nerds. I don’t question their actual diligence. It’s hardwired into their DNA. And besides, you are writing to other nerds who have that same “give a damn” gene in their own double helixes: If you put out a half-assed tech review and 70 percent of it focuses on the color of the bike or some flowery bullshit about “the brand”, you’ll get crucified by those readers. And that’s a good thing. Mountain bikers care about the details. The details matter.
If nothing else, you can ask a mountain biker where the Loctite is and they won’t hand you a tube of window caulk. There’s a lot to be said for that.
I know the look well, which probably says more about me than I’d like to admit, but I’m having a hard time being introspective at the moment. Why? Because I’m on a goddamn crusade. Nothing short of an epic quest of good versus evil.
Admittedly, it didn’t start out that way. It began like this: I went to the hardware store in search of a bottle of Loctite 243.
For the record, I did not envision this simple errand sprawling into a journey into the very bowels of hell. This is Loctite, after all, and not the Holy Grail, the Lance of Longinus (aka, “The Spear of Destiny” that Hitler was such a fan of) or The One Ring.
It Began in a Secret Laboratory
What is Loctite? If you are that rare soul who has never turned a wrench in their life, the name may elude you. Okay then…
Loctite was born on a dark and stormy night (I’m making that part up, but it sounds good) in 1953 when Vernon K. Krieble had a eureka moment in his underground lair (i.e., basement laboratory in Hartford, Connecticut). At the time, Krieble was experimenting with anaerobic adhesives. The result would become what just about every swinging dick knows as Loctite—that goop you slather on bolt threads that keeps said bolts from loosening and backing out after they’ve been vibrated a bunch. The stuff has been around for decades now. It works. It smells sweet, but will assuredly kill you if sprinkled on top of your breakfast cereal. It is, after all, a threadlocker. What’s more—and this part is relevant to my tale—you can readily buy the crap at just about any hardware store.
But not this time. Let’s go back to me getting the look that suggests I’m a complete nut job.
In the Bowels of the Home Depot
I’m standing before a man—an expert in his field—let’s call him “Jack”, it’s what the badge on his orange vest declares. And Jack is having a hard time. A real hard time dealing with the absolute barrage of bullshit flowing from my mouth. His eyes dart left and right. He is looking around for help. Maybe Sally or Doug in the Plumbing Department can come to his aid…
For the record, here is what I said to our man, Jack.
“Hi. Do you know where I can find some Loctite 243?”
Blank stare. It lasts about seven seconds. Maybe I haven’t given Jack enough substance to run with here. I try again.
“You know, Loctite—it’s the liquid threadlocker. The version I’m looking for is a blue, medium-strength formula.”
More blank staring.
“So, yeah, it comes in a little red bottle with a white top…”
Jack finally reaches into his pocket and pulls out some kind of store directory app on his smart phone. He starts typing. He frowns. Swipes a few times. Then he speaks.
“Dude, you’re totally in the wrong department. It’s over in Paint and Wallpaper.”
Ah, I know where Jack has gone wrong. You see, “Loctite” is, technically speaking, now a name brand that includes several home improvement products including window sealants and general purpose caulking supplies, which, of course, can be found in the Paint department of this particular store. I know this because of two facts:
(1) I am not an idiot; and
(2) This is the fourth goddamn hardware store I have been to today and every single time I have asked the people at Lowes or Ace Hardware or Home Depot where they keep the Loctite (I assure you, I ask this in a calm and friendly fashion), they have all directed me to the paint department. Every time. Without f*ckin’ fail.
There are days when I can relate to this movie. Note to the lawyers: I am in no way advocating senseless, gun-related violence. Just, you know, sometimes your vision gets all blurry and you feel like screaming and... oh, wait, that's just me? Okay, I'll work on it...
This is Why My Eye Twitches
I am now three hours into my search for an $8 bottle of threadlocker. What the hell? It’s as if I am asking for permission to casually browse through their top-secret stashes of plutonium or peruse their stolen ancient artifacts collection.
Look, I get it—the hardware store is full of mysterious and confounding items like shovels and rakes and garbage disposals. It’s probably challenging to keep track of it all. Fair enough. But did Jack and all the other vacant store clerks I have grappled with today not hear me say “threadlocker”? Are we not standing in the damn Screws/Nuts/Bolts aisle? This is where Loctite belongs. And yet I have thoroughly combed this aisle and the other aisles on either side of it before I gave in and approached Jack. Because, dammit, at this point I know Jack isn’t going to be able to cough up the goods on this one.
What Sets Bike Geeks Apart From Everyone Else
So, three hours and 15 minutes after I began my journey, I find myself trudging back to the car. I will pull out my laptop. I will summon the awesome power of Amazon.com and I will get that bottle of Loctite 243 sent directly to my doorstep tomorrow. There’s a new swingarm that needs mounting. There are bolts that need to be tightened… that little red bottle of Loctite 243 will be mine. Oh, yes it will.
For the record, a bottle of Loctite is not to be confused with The Spear of Destiny. The two items should not be equally difficult to obtain.
The Loctite will arrive, the bike will get built and in a few days, this will all be behind me. I know. First world drama and all that. I concede the point.
But here’s the thing that really strikes me. If I was talking to a bike nerd and I said I needed some Loctite threadlocker, they wouldn’t give me a blank stare or send me to the Lawn and Garden section of the story. Instead, they’d say something like, “What kind of Loctite? Do you need that high-lubricity, high-strength, LocTite 2047 stuff? No, wait, of course not. Do you need the Loctite primer? Are you going to prep a press-fit BB shell? Or do you need 242 or 243—because if the bolt has any grease on it, even traces of it, you are going to want the 243.”
Because that’s the thing about bike nerds—they give a damn about this kind of thing. They tend to know their stuff. They care. I find that fact refreshing. I mean, I’ll be the first to admit that our conversations about brake fluid—the relative merits of DOT fluid versus mineral oil, for instance—may not be riveting to non-bike geeks, but I find it refreshing that riders actually give a damn about these things.
But here’s the thing that really strikes me. If I was talking to a bike nerd and I said I needed some Loctite threadlocker, they wouldn’t give me a blank stare or send me to the Lawn and Garden section of the story. Instead, they’d say something like, “What kind of Loctite? Do you need that high-lubricity, high-strength, LocTite 2047 stuff? No, wait, of course not. Do you need the Loctite primer? Are you going to prep a press-fit BB shell? Or do you need 242 or 243—because if the bolt has any grease on it, even traces of it, you are going to want the 243.”
Because that’s the thing about bike nerds—they give a damn about this kind of thing. They tend to know their stuff. They care. I find that fact refreshing. I mean, I’ll be the first to admit that our conversations about brake fluid—the relative merits of DOT fluid versus mineral oil, for instance—may not be riveting to non-bike geeks, but I find it refreshing that riders actually give a damn about these things.
I used to work in the same building as a bunch of ski, snowboard, skate and surf magazines. The editors at those magazines were always dumbfounded by how intense we were about testing the products that showed up on our pages. “Why do you guys spend all that time riding those bikes? We just print the catalog copy.”
I’d hear that and a little part of me would always die.
Bike nerds are different. I may disagree with something another bike editor writes, but I rarely doubt that he or she went out and rode the test bike a bunch. They are fellow nerds. I don’t question their actual diligence. It’s hardwired into their DNA. And besides, you are writing to other nerds who have that same “give a damn” gene in their own double helixes: If you put out a half-assed tech review and 70 percent of it focuses on the color of the bike or some flowery bullshit about “the brand”, you’ll get crucified by those readers. And that’s a good thing. Mountain bikers care about the details. The details matter.
If nothing else, you can ask a mountain biker where the Loctite is and they won’t hand you a tube of window caulk. There’s a lot to be said for that.
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Member since Apr 11, 2014
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Retail stores seem to only carry 242, but 243 is vastly superior. Everyone knows Loctite is an anaerobic adhesive, but most people don't realize that formulations like 242 also require the presence of a ferrous metal to cure correctly. If you use 242 on a non-ferrous metal (stainless steel fasteners in aluminum threads are a common example), you're supposed to use a special primer that A) none of the retail stores will have, and B) sometimes with the primer it still doesn't work very well. 243 says on the bottle that it works with oil contamination, but to me the main advantage that isn't really advertised is that IT WORKS ON NON-FERROUS METALS WITHOUT FAIL, WITHOUT PRIMER. OK, end rant.
Also I seem to recall there being different numbers in North America and Europe.
One thing I've done in the past to make sure the CSU is in fact the culprit is by removing the fork from the bike, propping the fork against the floor and a stair step with padding on the floor to protect the lower legs/adjusters, and pressing on the fork to stress the CSU. If you hear the creak, you know your fork is the likely source of the creak.
Thanks for the heads' ups gents!!
I will start investigations forthwith!
Cheers!
That said, Home Depot in Canada caries Permatex threadlocker, they have it in the liquid and the goo style, but if you ask for Loctite they will have no idea what you are talking about.
Auto parts stores are still the best place to get the stuff.
You want Loctite, you go to an auto parts store.
Motor vehicles are the most common item(s) needing said thread locker, thus auto parts stores tend to carry all three(actually, now 4) flavors
When I think 'handyman things' my brain says hardware store
When I think 'auto shop' my brain only says - car
I go to Bunnings Hardware store, 102 isles of everything you need - except rubber mastic tape.
"Hi, do you sell rubber mastic tape?"
blank face
"It's tacky tape, moulds a bit like rubber"
blank face
"Tape isle please"
64, on your left
Again, nothing.
Goes to hobby store with friend after weeks of searching
Rows and rows of mastic tape.....
C'mon man, I almost cried because, because WHY....WHY here!? Why not HARDWARE STORE!?
The 290 (Green) is medium strength and in some ways I prefer it to Blue. It's a good sub for Blue which is kind of the weak Pajama Boy of threadlockers anyway.
BTW- Most all of them have it where they keep the Auto stuff.
I have nightmares about it not being in the toolbox.
I know someone at a competing publication that needs to read this. Or at least the comments to his reviews.
FREE! What a concept!
Step 2: Search for what you need.
Step 3: Find what you need.
Home Depot reps are nearly useless, even if you can find one.
At Home Depot you can go to their website, search the item, and if it's in the store you are at it will tell you if it's in stock, what aisle and 'bay' number the item is in.
I did this to buy loctite 242 there three weeks ago. But maybe my Home Depot is different and in the promise land (Portland).
That's awesome, thanks for the heads up. I have actually been looking for a good hardware store, it seems like I have to get something every couple weeks.
If there is good burritos/tacos/mediterranean food close by also, consider settling there for life.
cheers fellow nerd.
p.s. i've got some of that loctite if you need it...its in my spiderwebbed garage in L.A.
However, I read a lot of bike reviews that read like ad copy. It's a hard business, and balancing honesty with ad revenues ain't easy. However, purple prose blithely extolling the virtues of a bike or part just tick me off. For example, modern SRAM brakes suck. They suck hard-really hard. Went to Granby to ride DH bikes a couple of weeks ago and all their rental bikes had SRAM brakes-and they all (ALL!!!!) had partially locked pistons or had already been warrantied. I've even heard of shops in hotter climates where the temperature change from the shop (cold AC) to outside was enough to get the pistons to lock on the first test ride on a new bike. Walk into a shop in Moab or Sedona and tell them your brakes locked on you, and they'll just point you to some Shimanos (after clucking about yet another dud SRAM set). SRAM even knows about the problem-they warranty them no question asked; they know that the brakes they market, sell and push for OEM are ABSOLUTE DOGSHIT!!!! And yet....magazine reviewers are unwilling to call out the problem! In 10 years, they'll all talk about how crummy (and unsafe) those old SRAM Guides were, but not as long as it could cut into ad revenue.
You can talk about passion all day, but as long as you're willing to give a hall pass to companies that make junk but pay you, I'll keep reading your review with a grain (or 3) of salt.
I suppose in my slagging of SRAM brakes, I should have been more thorough.
Either way, these brakes ARE garbage and SRAM and the bike industry know it.
This is so true!!!! Pinkbike users are brutally honest, and that keeps the standards up.
Check out this review by one of the leading ski websites:
freeskier.com/stories/editors-review-q-core-slx-sleeping-pad-big-agnes
*crickets chirping*.
I wouldn't put it on breakfast cereal though. Stuff tastes awful.
P.S. Beer may have been involved.
Also, really good gun stores will have Loctite in various flavors.
lol
"touch wood"
canadian tire, lordco, walmart. done
theres bigger fish to fry