Stumpjumper ’88 — Build Notes, Choices & Quiet Obsessions (Part Two)

January 24, 2026

The first post was about why this bike deserved saving.
This one is about how it came back together — and the small, sometimes accidental decisions that end up defining a build far more than any headline component.

This isn’t a factory-correct restoration.
It’s not a modern reinterpretation either.

It’s an original 1988 Stumpjumper frame, treated as the constant — with everything else judged on one simple question: does it feel right?

The Frame: Patina First, Always

The neon teal and purple paint doesn’t need rescuing — it needs preserving. Chips, scuffs, and faded decals are part of the bike’s visual language. Cleaning was careful, corrosion was stabilised, but nothing was “improved”.

I did order a replacement decal set in the original yellow. For now, I’ve only used the chainstay protector — a quiet nod to preservation rather than replacement. If the patina ever tips from character into distraction, I’ve left myself the option to refresh more later. For now, the wear stays.

Cockpit: Still Cruisin’, Intentionally

The cockpit is where the bike really declares its intent.

Sim Works Still Crusin’ bars were an easy choice — wide, swept, and unapologetically comfortable. They pull the riding position upright and slow the whole experience down in a good way. This isn’t a bike that wants to be rushed.

Those bars sit on a Nitto quill stem adapter, keeping the original quill aesthetic intact while allowing modern bar choice. It’s one of those invisible compromises that doesn’t feel like a compromise at all.

To keep the cockpit clean, I’ve gone with Rivendell Dia-Compe 7–9 speed friction shifters, paired with Dia-Compe SS6 levers. No indexing, no clutter — just smooth, deliberate shifts and a setup that feels entirely at home on a late-80s frame.

Braking: Old Cantis, New Problem-Solving

The bike still runs its original cantilever brakes, largely out of respect for what came with it — and because, properly set up, they still work beautifully.

That said, the front brake did introduce one of those classic build hiccups. I installed a Paul Components Funky Monkey front canti hanger, but ordered the 1″ adapter instead of the required 7/8″.

Rather than wait on another order, I cut a shim from aluminium sheet I had to hand. Clean, snug, invisible once installed — and honestly one of the most satisfying fixes on the bike. It’s solid, aligned, and exactly the sort of solution this build seems to encourage.

Longer term, I’m tempted by a set of purple Dia-Compe cantis — not out of necessity, but because sometimes colour matters.

Drivetrain: Old Bones, New Reliability

The drivetrain keeps one foot firmly in 1988.

Both the original Deore front and rear derailleurs are still here — cleaned, serviced, and working as they should. There’s something grounding about keeping those parts in play, even as other elements evolve.

The crankset is a Velo Orange triple, paired with MKS Bear Trap pedals — a combination that feels absolutely right on this bike. Wide platforms, solid engagement, and a visual weight that balances the frame perfectly.

Underneath it all, I’ve swapped the original cup-and-cone bottom bracket for a Shimano UN300 sealed unit. It’s a pragmatic decision: less maintenance, smoother spin, and zero regret.

Wheels & Tyres: Where the Ride Lives

Tyres ended up being more important than expected.

The bike arrived with Billy Bonkers tan walls, but the lighter casing just didn’t work for how — and where — I ride. Too vague, too fragile.

In their place: Maxxis DTC tan wall tyres. Slightly heavier, noticeably tougher, and far better suited to mixed terrain. They still look right, but more importantly they ride right — planted on gravel, predictable on dirt, and calm on tarmac.

Skinwalls stay. Reliability improves.

Saddle & Contact Points: Comfort Over Correctness

The saddle will be a black 1980s Selle Italia Turbo, replacing the current placeholder. It fits the era, but more importantly it fits me.

I’ll likely swap the seatpost as well. The guiding rule on this bike is simple: original frame, everything else gets cleaned, renewed, or replaced if it improves the ride. Period-correct is nice; comfort wins.

The Details That Actually Matter

This build isn’t about individual parts — it’s about cohesion.

Visible cable runs, not hidden
Thoughtful colour accents, never loud
Original parts kept where they still earn their place
New parts chosen to disappear into the whole

If something draws attention to itself, it probably doesn’t belong.

How It Rides (Which Is the Point)

The real success of this Stumpjumper isn’t how it photographs — it’s how it disappears once you start riding.

It’s calm.
It’s forgiving.
It rewards curiosity over speed.

This is a bike that encourages detours, slows your cadence, and makes you stop because something caught your eye — not because your computer told you to.

What’s Next

Nothing urgent. And that’s deliberate.

Future changes will come from riding, not browsing. Maybe those purple cantis. Maybe different tyres seasonally. Maybe nothing at all.

For now, this Stumpjumper is exactly where it should be:
finished enough to ride, open-ended enough to evolve.

And that’s the sweet spot.

Sim Work's Still Cruisn' bars coupled with Nitto Quill Stem. Actually used a Velo Orange stem originally but it was 2mm shofter which annoyed me. So swapped it out for a flush top finish. Additionally the Paul Component Funky Monkey out front canti adapter was too large but made it work with some aluminium sheeting.

Clean final look up front. Everything silver. With the Dia Compe SS6 levers and the Rivendell friction shifters.

Original rear mech with new pulley wheels.

Logos cleaned up and still have that patina feel. At some point I may install the fresh set I have.

Blue Lug presta valves. Since removed. These will go on my Kona.