Just when I thought neon fades had been consigned to the dustbin of history, I saw this:
Now, as you well know, I have nothing against purple and green standing side by side. In fact, it's my favorite color combination. But not in this shade of green.
Too bad it's on such a good bike: a Medici. About 30 years ago, Gian Simonetti and Mike Howard left Masi USA to start the brand. Not surprisingly, Medicis were very similar in design and in finishing details to the USA-made Masis which, according to some purists snobs, weren't quite as nice as the bikes Signor Masi built when he was in Italy.
I knew people who had both US- and Italian-made Masis, as well as Medicis. Truthfully, nobody could quite explain what the differences were between them, and I couldn't tell by riding them. Then again, those people might argue that I didn't spend enough time riding those bikes.
I'd be curious about the one in the photo, though. The early Medicis--including the ones I rode--were made from Columbus SL tubing. On the other hand, the frame in the photo was made from Tange Prestige tubing, which means that it was probably made in the early or mid-1990's.
As far as I can tell, the Medici marquee no longer exists. i guess the Medicis, like all dynasties, had to end some time!
The other day, while making preparations for the storm that's raining down on us, I spotted this:
Of course, it's not the kind of bike I'll ever ride. And it's certainly not the sort of paint job I'd ever get on one of my bikes. However, I think it's not bad: The yellow main tubes and seat stay "fade" into a maroonish red on the chainstay, rear dropouts and front fork. The seat and handgrips more or less match the maroon paint.
Could this be a signal that "fade" finishes are coming back? This one isn't so bad. If more had been like this, "fades" would not have their awful reputation and association with the '90's they now have.
New York City may well be the "Frankenbike" capital of the world. Even if you live here for a couple of decades, you'll see permutations of bikes you simply won't see anywhere else.
Today I'm going to show you two "Frankenbikes" that were parked near a train station in my neighborhood.
Until I saw the first, I never realized what, exactly, my commuter bikes have always lacked:
They are mountain bike "bar ends," which were very much in vogue during the mid-'90's. I used a pair myself. There was a good reason for them: Mountain bikes, at least as they were configured then, didn't offer a variety of hand positions. That could be very tiring on a ride of an hour or more. So, bar ends like these were made to clamp on the ends of flat bars. Most, like these, used a wraparound clamp; a few had ends that inserted into the handlebar, much like a bar-end shifter or brake lever.
Here, the person mounted them on the middle of the handlebar to get an "aero" position. That's exactly what the owner of that bike needs.
It's a Schwinn Suburban from, I'd guess, the early 1970's or thereabouts. Essentially, it was a Varsity or Continental with upright bars, fenders and a single rather than a double chainring in the front. Like the Varsity or Continental, it's a tank. At least the "aerobars" can help its rider lop a few seconds off his or her commute.
The bike also has a generator lighting system. I wonder whether it works. Lots of people buy or inherit used bikes like that one that have generator lights on them. Often, the person who buys or inherits the used bike never even knows whether or not the lights actually work, for they do no night riding--or, perhaps, even know how to use the light. Or the person riding the bike may well know that the light doesn't work but simply doesn't bother to take it off.
At least the generator and lights are where they're supposed to be. The same can't always be said for any bike you'll see parked here in NYC:
A headlight in a water bottle cage--on the top tube of a women's bike? In some crazy way, it seems ingenious. After all, the light on that bike is in a less prone position than it would be on other parts of the bike. Plus, it could be really useful for checking runs in my stockings or rips in my pants legs.
No kind of bike paint job is more widely detested, justly so, than the '80's fades. (Some of the most unfortunate samples from that genre were found on Klein bicycles of that era.) However, around the same time, there was another kind of paint job that was as almost as bad, and common on European bikes (or bikes for the European market,at any rate). I call it the tricolored Easter egg look:
The owner of this bike, or the person from whom the owner bought or was given this bike, probably brought it in from Italy or someplace in Europe, as I don't think this model was ever inported to the US. In fact, I think that around the time the bike was made, Atala bicycles were no longer being imported to this country. Some of their better models were rather pretty, but I was never particularly impressed with the rides of the ones I tried. Plus, the workmanship was such that we used to joke that its paint and chrome flew off when the bike was operated at too high a speed.
Anyway, even though these two bikes caught my attention, they're hardly the most mutated bikes I've seen here in New York. Unfortunately, I never photographed the crazier bikes I saw. But then again, I'll probably see others that are just as zany.
