The Most Famous, If Not The Better, Mousetrap

You might be riding rattraps.  If you're of (ahem) a certain age and rode them, you may also have ridden with a mousetrap.

No, I'm not assuming that you are, or have ever been, an exterminator.  Instead, I am talking about a type of bicycle component and a style of a certain bike accessory.

Rattraps, of course, are what are commonly called "cage" pedals.  On such pedals, the metal (aluminum or steel) plates have serrated edges on both sides, the better to grip the sole of your shoe.  (I actually rode a pair barefoot. I think I can still see the marks.)  Those cages usually don't have the "quill" common on traditional-style racing pedals.  And, because the cages have the same serrated surfaces on both sides, they can be ridden with or without toeclips.

Examples of "rattrap" pedals include the MKS Sylvan and the Lyotard 460D:

MKS Sylvan

Lyotard 460D.  They were usually silver, but for a time were also available in blue, red or black.

Many different companies make, and have made versions of the "mousetrap".  Some claim to be better versions of the most famous (if not original) one:  The Pletscher Model C.

I bought one for $2.75, new, at Michaels's Bicycle Co. on Route 35 in Hazlet, NJ.  That  rack ended up on about three or four bikes I owned during my youth.  It was actually good for a light load, but would sway a lot when used with panniers. (I don't think most panniers made today would fit.)  Some people didn't like the Pletscher rack because the clamp that held it to the bike chewed up the paint on the seat stays (and, on some bikes, the seat stays themselves).  I think, though, that many people forgot to use the "T" bar that attached to the brake bolt and had two holes for the rack clamp screws.  Also, it helped to cover the stays with tape or a piece cut from an inner tube.

The "mousetrap" clamp on top was good for a baseball glove, a pair of shoes or sandwiches--if you didn't mind eating things in shapes you never saw before.  It also held a soccer ball or basketball firmly.  However, when I tried to carry books in it, they ended up all over the street.  (Ironically, many shops and catalogues sold the Pletscher or its near-facsimiles as "book racks".)  And, when I got my Pletscher, bungees hadn't been invented--or, at least, they weren't available in any place I shopped.  (When I first found them, they were called "sandows".)  So, if we wanted to carry things on the platform that wouldn't fit into the mousetrap, we used string, rope, duct tape and almost anything else you can imagine.

Even if you are young, you have probably seen hundreds of Pletscher racks, or imitations of them.  They have been attached to just about every kind of bike you can imagine:  I have even seen them attached to the struts of "banana" seats.  And--perhaps not surprisingly, given their ubiquity and low cost--people have actually used them as front racks, with varying results.

I wonder what, if anything, the rider of that bike carries on the rack. Whatever it is, it would have to be bound pretty tightly, or it would slide off the rack and into the path of the front wheel. I guess that's one way of making yourself a cold Panini, if that's what you want.

If seeing the on the front, slanted like the right side of an accent circonflexe isn't enough for you, look at how the rack is attached to the fork crown:

We didn't have zip-ties back when I bought my Pletscher rack for $2.75, new, at Michael's.

 

Pedals Worthy Of His Bike: He's Making Them

I first became serious about cycling as a teenager in the mid-1970s.  It seemed that every minute, I was learning about some brand of bicycle that wasn't Schwinn, Raleigh or Peugeot, and components--yes, I learned that most bicycles are made from components manufactured by other companies!  So, of course, I encountered all of the traditional European names like Weinmann, Mafac, Huret, Simplex--and, of course, Campagnolo.  Hey, Campy even made parts for high-performance race cars and NASA space vehicles!

Not long after, I would find out about Japanese makers of high-quality equipment like Sugino, Nitto and SunTour, whose derailleurs became my "go-to".  Nitto, Sugino and Campagnolo, of course, survive:  All except one of my Mercians is equipped with Nitto bars and/or stems, and Sugino cranksets.  Negrosa, my black 1973 Mercian Olympic, sports the same-year Campagnolo Nuovo Record gruppo (and Cinelli bars and stem) that came with it.

Sadly, the SunTour name lives only in mostly low-end suspension forks under the SR-SunTour brand.  Weinmann is a marque for mostly heavy and low-end rims made in China or Taiwan, and Mafac, Huret and other classic names are gone altogether.

Another name I encountered in my early cycling days is Chater-Lea.   By the time I learned about them, four decades ago, they were on the brink of extinction.  They would file for bankruptcy in 1987, and seemed to live on only in the memories of those of us old enough (in my case, just barely) to know about classic British bike parts.

Now, I have only seen a few Chater-Lea parts:  sturdy bottom brackets for those pencil-thin cottered cranks that found their way onto beautiful old English (and other) frames before cotterless chainsets (yes, that's what the English call them) took over the peloton and market--and, some beautifully-made pedals.  Their "rattrap" design was something like Lyotard's, but better, in materials, workmanship and aesthetics.

It seems, though, that Chater-Lea suffered the fate of Lyotard and other old-line bicycle component makers in the 1980s:  designs and market preferences changed, but companies like C-L and Lyotard didn't.  With the advent of mid-priced cotterless cranks and clipless pedals, the market for high-quality cottered bottom brackets and traditional cage or platform pedals all but disappeared.  In the meantime, companies that changed their designs and product lines, as often as not, shifted their production to low-wage countries. That is how nearly all of the British bicycle component (and a good part of the country's bicycle) industry, along with many of its counterparts in France and the rest of Europe, disappeared in the 1980s. 

Well, it seems that us old folks (OK! OK!) aren't the only ones who remember Chater-Lea.  Andy Richman, a Brit who lived and worked in Washington, DC, for a number of years, has returned to his native country to  resurrect the Chater-Lea name and oversee the design, manufacture and launch of its first product in more than three decades--and its first new product in more than half a century.  

Appropriately enough, it's a pedal.  But it's not any old crank appendage.  Even someone who's not a cycle enthusiast can see that it's made with better materials and more care--and purely and simply looks better--than your typical "rat trap", with all due respect to MKS (whose pedals I use).  The new Chater-Lea "Grand Tour" pedal is made from marine grade 316 and hardened 17-4PH stainless steel studded with polished brass rivets.  

Oh, and it's made in the UK--in Bristol, to be exact.  "This stuff needs to be made in the UK," says Richman.  It's "high-end, beautiful, artisanal," he explains.  "If jobs are going to come back to the UK, it's got to be for making this kind of stuff."

The new Chater-Lea Grand Tour pedal

Chater-Lea made "this kind of stuff" that was the class (along with BSA) of the bicycle component world.  Begun in 1890, it would branch out into motorcycle and car parts, and complete motorcycles and cars.  During World War II, it made parts for the Mosquito Fighter Bomber.  After the war, Chater-Lea returned to its bicycle roots and enjoyed prosperity during the 1950s but started to falter, along with many other companies in the British cycle industry, during the 1960s.  (Little did we know that all of those Raleigh and Dawes bikes we saw during the 1970s Bike Book were the shadows of companies that would "give up the ghost" a decade or two later!)  

Richman is himself a bike enthusiast who knew of the brand before his quest to revive it.  What motivated him, though, was a shopping trip in Brighton that took him to Condor, one of the premier bicycle shops in Britain.  There, he eyed a 1948 Condor frame and persuaded the shop's owner to sell it to him.  As Richman left the store, the owner remarked, "You do know there's really only one set of components worthy of going on this bike?  Chater-Lea."

Someone, I forget who, once said, "If I want to read a good book, I write one."  It seems that Richman knew that if he couldn't find "worthy" components, he'd have to make them.  And he's begun, with his Grand Tour pedal.

How Rattraps Became Beartraps---In 1899

Last week, I wrote about "rattrap" pedals.  They were the kind of pedals that came on most '70's Bike Boom-era ten-speeds, and have continued to enjoy popularity with cyclo-tourists, motocross riders and commuters. The great advantages of them are that they can be used with or without toeclips, and ridden on either side (unlike most quill and road clipless pedals, which must be flipped to the right side).  As I mentioned, two of the most popular models of rat-traps are the Lyotard 460 (which hasn't been made in at least two decades) and the MKS Sylvan.

Road "quill" pedals, which were all but displaced by the advent of easy-to-use clipless pedals from Look and Time, would sometimes have the "sawteeth" on the side of the pedal on which the cyclist pedaled.  The other side was usually cut away, and thus unrideable.  They were so made to improve cornering clearance, a definite concern for criterium and track riders.

(Track pedals usually had cages like those of road "quill" pedals, without the "quill".)

Famous examples of road quill pedals are the Campagnolo Record and its many imitators, and Lyotard 45. 

Double-sided quill pedals were all but nonexistent until around 1980.  At that time, the cults of BMX and mountain biking were spreading beyond their respective Southern and Northern California cradles.  That was also about the time equipment was being developed specifically for those new disciplines.



SunTour BMX pedals, circa 1980

Possibly the nicest double-sided quill came from  SunTour.  They had the same bearings, axles and bodies as SunTour's wonderful track and road pedals, which were made by MKS.  (The "Supreme" and "Nuevo" pedals, currently made by MKS, are virtual clones of the pedals made for SunTour.)  Some of the early mountain bikes came with those pedals; "bear trap" pedals, developed soon after, were essentially BMX pedals with curved plates.

SunTour "bear trap" pedals, circa 1985

When double-sided quill pedals first appeared on the market, many of us wondered why no one had ever thought to make them earlier.  Well, it turns out that someone had:

In 1899, the Bay State Stamping Company of Worcester, Massachusetts introduced the Bennet pedal.  Don't you just love the clover cutouts in the cages?

I tried to find out how long these pedals were produced.  They were introduced just as the first American Bike Boom was about to dissipate.  So, I suspect they weren't made for very long, and the design--like many others from that period--was forgotten.

Aside from the cage shape, the Bennet had a couple of other interesting features.  One is a dust cap that springs into the body and is held by latches. In contrast, most other dust caps are either screwed on or pressed in and often fall off, especially when the bike is ridden over rough roads or trails.   The other innovation was a bearing cone that was keyed rather than threaded to the axle, and held in place with a set screw.  According to the manufacturer, this system allowed for one-tool adjustments.  It also eliminated the problem of locknuts that came loose and allowed the cone to screw up and crush the bearings.

I would love to know how well those features worked. If they were effective, the Bennet was certainly well ahead of its time.  Even if they weren't, the Bennet is interesting as a kind of proto-BMX or -mountain bike pedal.

French BMX

 In 2015, I wrote a post about Lyotard pedals.  The French manufacturer was best known for its Models 460–the alloy “rattrap” model popular with cyclo-cross riders and bike tourists and commuters—and the 23, a.k.a., Berthet, a platform pedal that inspired the MKS and White Industries Urban Platform pedals.  Many ‘70’s Bike Boom-era machines were equipped with other models like the 45 (an alloy quill pedal) and the 136R, which was more or less a steel version of the 460 and sometimes had built-in reflectors.

Nowhere in the brochures I could find—or in articles like the one on the Classic Lightweights website—did I find a reference to this:

I am guessing that like Lyotard’s clipless pedal, it wasn’t made for very long. 

Both the BMX and clipless models, as good as they may have been, seem to have been “last gasp” efforts to keep the company, which seems to have ceased trading in the late-1980s, afloat. Lyotard’s sales of its less-expensive pedals (like the steel ones I mentioned) tanked, even as original equipment to manufacturers, when cheaper imports became available. Then the market for its higher-end pedals (and those from other companies) all but disappeared once Look and Time made easy-to-use clipless pedals available around 1985.

That year was also around the peak of BMX’s popularity—and when the cycling world was starting to realize that mountain bikes weren’t “just a fad.” While Japanese companies made many of the early BMX- and mountain-bike-specific parts, and Campagnolo even offered full gruppos for a couple of years, French bike and component manufacturers were slow to enter the mountain bike world and hardly touched BMX at all.

So, it’s hard not to wonder (for me, anyway) whether Lyotard would still be with us—and, in fact, be the presence it once was—had they started to make pedals like the ones in the photos—and clipless pedals—sooner.