To The Sea On An A-D

 Now I'm going to talk about another "parts bin bike" I built and rode.

I got the Austro-Damiler "Team" frame in the photo in a trade for one of my last sets of tubular (sew-up) wheels.  I don't recall which model it was, but I remember that it was made of Reynolds 531 tubing in the late 1970's.

As I understand, bicycles were sold under the "Austro-Daimler" name only in the United States. The company that made them was called Puch and marketed some bikes under their own name during the 1970's and 1980's.  With a name like that, you know why they felt the need to come up with another for their higher-end bikes!

My A-D had what many now call "old-school" road geometry--73 degree head and seat angles, and a somewhat longer chainstay and wheelbase than what are found on today's racing bikes.  Any number of racing bikes from the time had similar geometry:  think of the Raleigh "International" or "Competition," Peugeot PX-10E (and its descendants), and other rides from makers like Gitane, Falcon, Frejus and Fuji.  Racing bikes in those days were more versatile than they are now:  It's not uncommon to see them used today as randonneuring or even touring bikes.

As a matter of fact, I took my A-D on a tour:  In August of 1994, I pedaled from Paris to the sea near Bordeaux, and up the coast to Lacanau.  As I stayed in hostels and pensiones throughout my trip, I didn't pack camping equipment except for a sleeping bag.  Everything fit into a small set of panniers and a handlebar bag:  I'd guess that I carried about 15 kilos with me.  Still, the bike gave me a stable and comfortable ride.  The top tube was a bit longer than I have on my custom frames, but I still was able to use a stem with a reasonable amount of horizontal extension.  Thus, the steering was still pretty responsive, but not overly twitchy.

I probably would have that bike now, even after getting my Mercians, save for its unfortunate demise a few months after that tour.  I was running an errand a few blocks from where I was living (in Park Slope) when, in order to dodge an opening taxicab door, I ran into a chuckhole that seemed not much smaller than a manhole cover.  The areas of the top and downtube just behind the head lugs folded like accordions, but the sounds that came out of my mouth weren't as pleasing.

Out And About After Sandy

I was lamenting the fact that I won't be able to take a big trip this year.

However, I am experiencing the weather and seeing the kind of light one finds in London, Copenhagen and other northern European capitals.  

Somehow, though, I don't imagine they've had anything like Hurricane Sandy.  Then again, I'm sure they have other kinds of rough weather that I didn't spend enough time in those places to experience.

But I digress. Apart from the chilly, damp air and gray skies, something else gives the part of the world in which I live the flavor of northern Europe:

Those bikes are parked outside PS 1.  It seems that every time I ride down that way, I see more and more bikes parked there:

Those racks, installed recently, aren't enough for the bicycle traffic that stops at the museum.  Almost as many bikes are locked and chained to lamposts, parking meters and other immobile objects on the surrounding blocks.  Some of those bikes are interesting and unusual, such as this one:

A few A. Sutter bicycles, which were made  France, made their way to these shores before and during the '70's "Bike Boom."  They are much like other French bikes of the period--a little nicer, perhaps than Peugeot, but not quite as nice as Motobecane. But definiely, quintessentially French, for better and worse.

I mean, nobody else did chainguards the way they did them in Gaul.  And their fenders are, rightly, the ones that inspire the ones Velo Orange and other companies make:

The bike in the photos, and most other A. Sutters, were manufactured in Chatellerault, in the Loire Valley. A. Sutter also offered a top-of-the line racing model that Olmo made in Italy.  Like most top-of-the-line Italian racing bikes (as well as some from other countries), it was equipped with Campagnolo Nuovo Record components.

I don't know whether A. Sutter is still in business--and, if they are, whether their bikes are still made in Chatellerault or anywhere else in France.

If they're still being made, I wonder whether they're available in the light blue of that bike. Lots of bike makers made light blue bikes, but this particular shade, by itself, all but marks it as a French Bike.

Now, for a very different blue bike, take a look at this:

You've probably seen Austro-Daimlers before.  They're another marque associated with the '70's Bike Boom.  They might be best-known for one of the most elegant catalogs ever produced and their pledge that their top-of-the-line bike, the Ultima, would "leave the factory in a specially prepared foam-filled case." The ladies' version of the Vent Noir might be the most elegant mixte that wasn't made by a French constructeur or English hand-builder!

Even their lower-and mid-level bikes reflected the attention to detail of their best machines:

I find it interesting to see bicycles like this one that are more than three decades old but look as if they just left the showroom.  Was it stored in one of those foam-filled cases?

Anyway, enough about bikes.   I took a spin down to Brooklyn, and passed by Pratt Institute. I can hardly imagine a campus looking more autumnal than this: