The Afghanistan Of The Bicycle Component World?

The Fatal Mistake was made in 1962.

At least, that's how Frank Berto (the author of The Dancing Chain) and others see it. At the time, the mistake's consequences weren't obvious.  The demise of the company that made the fateful decision took three decades. For a few years after it, the organization seemed to be doing better than ever.  

It's as if someone thrived, prospered and did some of his or her best work--and even looked better than ever--for a few years after swallowing a Death Potion.  The decline and demise would come slowly; along the way, the person who took the poison would have opportunities to take antidotes, or do other things to reverse the damage.  Instead, that person does things that would prolong their suffering and deterioration--all the while denying that he or she is in trouble.

The move I am talking about is not SunTour's decision to out-Duopar the Duopar:  the venerable Japanese derailleur-maker's decline and extinction was indeed protracted, but not quite to the degree of that of the company I'm about to mention.  Also, SunTour's decline was more obvious, as its attempts to come up with an indexed shifting system to compete with Shimano's were ill-conceived and, ultimately, disastrous.

The original Simplex Prestige derailleur, 1962

The Fatal Mistake to which I am referring is Simplex's introduction of their Prestige 532 rear derailleur.  It is, as far as anyone knows, the first such mechanism to be constructed mainly of plastic.  The parallelogram and knuckles were made of that wonder material, but the pulley cage was made of steel.  This resulted in what may have been the lightest derailleur available at the time--and one whose weight (220 grams) would be respectable even today:  about the same as an alloy Campagnolo Chrous or Shimano Ultegra/600 9-speed.

Of course, that Prestige probably couldn't handle 9 cogs and, even over 5, would not offer the same ease and precision in shifting as even Campy's or Shimano's current lower-end offerings.  But, for its time, the first Prestige offered a reasonably good shift, though not as nice as the company's Juy Export 61, introduced a year earlier.  

The JE61 (Who came up with that name?) seemed, at least superficially, to have the same design as the Prestige, the difference being that the JE 61 was rendered in steel.  But it was well-machined and -finished, and had brass bushings in its pivot points, much like the Campagnolo Gran Sport of its time.  In fact, Simplex's derailleur would not compare unfavorably to its Campy counterpart.

The Simplex Juy Export 61.  

Although questions were raised about the Prestige's durability (almost non-existent, at least in its first version), other companies felt they had to offer something at least as light in order to compete.  In fact, one small Italian firm tried, it seemed, to make a derailleur that had even more plastic than the Prestige.

That concern was called Gian Robert.  They seem to have begun making parts--crudely cast and finished copies or near-copies of Campagnolo components--some time in the late 1950s.  Some of GR's stuff made Triplex's products seem refined and elegant.  

One thing Gian Robert had in common with Triplex--aside from its attempts to look something like Campagnolo from a few meters away--is that few of its products made it to the US.  Some GR stuff was offered for a few years in Ron Kitching's influential catalogue, which also essentially introduced Shimano and SunTour to British cyclists. And, not surprisingly, some low- to mid-level European frames had Gian Robert parts hanging from them.

From the Ron Kitching catalogue, 1964

But those Gian Roberts shared an even-less-desirable trait with those first Simplex derailleurs:  They didn't last.  Their attempt to out-Simplex Simplex, if you will, succeeded--if you can call it that--in a perhaps-unintended way. From what I've read, GR's plastic derailleurs had even shorter life spans than the first Prestige derailleurs. According to one account in a British cycling magazine, the GR did reasonably well with a straight-block 14-18 five-speed freewheel.  Then again, what derailleur didn't?  But any attempt to use the derailleur with larger cogs--even as small as 22 teeth--resulted in the derailleur bending rather than moving the chain onto the cog.

Now, to be fair to Simplex, they did improve subsequent versions of their Prestige derailleur, adding steel reinforcement to the parallelogram plates.  (The later Prestiges had blue or red badges on black plastic parallelograms; the first version had a parallelogram that looked like it was made of pus-colored sparkles.  And they would make some very nice derailleurs, including one Bernard Thevenet rode to victory in the Tour de France, as well as the best non-indexed shift levers ever made. (I rode them with a Huret Jubilee rear derailleur on an otherwise all-Campagnolo-equipped bike.)  But few companies can survive on one product, as Simplex seemingly tried to do with its shift levers.

Gian Robert front derailleur on Rigi frame.

Ironically, Gian Robert met a similar fate.  Their plastic derailleurs disintegrated.  Their steel Campy knockoffs were nasty-looking and didn't shift much better.  But some of their other products were decent.  And one--for many cyclists, the only GR product they ever purchased--was actually essential for some riders:  a front derailleur which was the only one that would fit on the Rigi frame.

Ofmega Mistral "Maglia Rosa"

As for plastic derailleurs:  A few other companies, none of which exist today, made them.  (Hmm...Could it be that making plastic derailleurs is, for the companies that make them, what invading Afghanistan is for the countries that try it?)  Possibly the most glorious, if you can call it that, attempt was made by Ofmega in the early- to mid-1980s.  Their "mistral" rear derailleur was not only made of plastic; it also came in a dazzling array of colors like "maillot jaune" and "squadri azzuri" that were supposed to evoke major races and teams.  Their "maglia rosa" was intended to remind people of the jersey worn by the leader of the Giro d'Italia (as the "maillot jaune" adorns the front-runner of the Tour de France) but, as Michael Sweatman wryly notes in his Disraeligears, made it look, to some people, like a  sex toy or Barbie doll accessory.

To my knowledge, in the three decades since Ofmega (which seems to have gone out of business about a decade ago) ceased production of those derailleurs, no one else seems to have made a plastic (unless you count carbon-fiber offerings) derailleur.  But, as I have shown in some of my other posts, if an idea is bad enough, someone will try it again.  After my country, which will be the next to attempt an invasion of Afghanistan?

SunTour's Achilles Heel

We all have heard of the "Achilles heel":  a weakness that causes the downfall of an otherwise strong person or thing.

We have all heard--probably from a junior high school teacher--the origin of the phrase:  After giving birth to Achilles, his mother Thetis tried to make him immortal by dipping him into the River Styx.  As she dipped him, she held him by his heel--which, of course, remained untouched by the magical waters.

Until I read the Iliad for myself, I--like most people--assumed the original myth about Achilles said that his weak spot was his heel.  However, the Iliad identifies his weakness as his pride; the first story to say that his weakness was in a part of his body was Ovid's Metamorphoses, published more than a millenium after the Iliad.  Roughly half a century after that,the Roman poet Statius was the first to imply that it was his heel.

Practitioners of traditional medicine all over the world have said that pride, as well as other emotions such as anger, manifest themselves in the body.  Perhaps, then, it's not a stretch to say that organizational pride or overreach can become the "Achilles heels", if you will, in the products they make. 

SunTour VGT-Luxe rear derailleur,  circa 1973

Such was the case with a bicycle part from a company that had enjoyed enormous success for two decades.  From the time SunTour introduced the slant-parallelogram rear derailleur in 1964, it took both the original-equipment and replacement-parts market by storm; by the end of the 1970s, the traditional European derailleur manufacturers commanded only small niches of the bicycle market.

But there were clouds on the horizon for SunTour.  For one, its patent on the slant parallelogram would expire in 1984.  Other derailleur manufacturers were waiting with bated breath; practically the minute the patent expired, Shimano would incorporate SunTour's design into its SIS derailleurs. Campagnolo would follow suit when it developed its first intergrated indexed shifting system.  

Huret Duopar rear derailleur, circa 1981

Another sign of trouble preceded the end of its slant-parallelogram patent:  Huret's introduction of the Duopar rear derailleur.  Frank Berto, who had so lavishly (though not unjustly) praised SunTour derailleurs for the better part of a decade, pronounced the Duopar as the best wide-range touring derailleur available.  The majority of SunTour's market in the 1970s and early 1980s was bicycle tourists and other cyclists who wanted and needed wide-range gearing.  The Duopar represented the first viable threat to SunTour since its first GT derailleurs were introduced during the late 1960s.

There was, at least, a silver lining in the Duopar cloud:  Huret's new wide-range touring derailleur indeed shifted flawlessly over the widest gearing available at the time--at least, when it was new.  But its double-parallelogram (hence the name Duopar) design necessitated more robust materials and construction than Huret offered.  So, it would rather quickly develop play and slop in the joints, especially if it was ridden in rain and mud, and would typically last about 2500-3000 kilometers.  

SunTour wanted to re-establish itself as the go-to derailleur company for dedicated bicycle tourists.  While the Duopar shifted better--when new--than any other wide-range derailleur, it wasn't that much better.  Apparently, the designers at SunTour figured they could develop a derailleur that would out-shift and out-last--and, by the way, look more elegant than--the Duopar.

The folks at SunTour, I imagine, also must have been thinking that such a derailleur would take the then-nascent world of mountain biking by storm:  the Duopar was simply too fragile, and the derailleurs Shimano made at that time didn't shift nearly as well.

SunTour Superbe Tech, 1983

So, in 1983 SunTour came out with the Superbe Tech rear derailleur.  Like the Duopar, it had a double pivoting system.  The difference was that, instead of a second set of pivoting  parallelograms attached to the main one (as the Duopar had), the Superbe Tech featured a spring inside the upper pulley wheel.  That meant, of course, that the pulley wheel had a much larger "drum" than the upper pulley of any other derailleur and was therefore not interchangeable even with the pulleys of other SunTour derailleurs.  

But its sizing isn't the only thing that made it an "Achilles heel."  The spring was not adequately protected from dirt, mud, rain or anything else one might encounter. So the spring and pulley drum would become clogged, which in (relatively short) time would cause the pulley wheel to seize, and the spring to fail.  Even the most dedicated shop mechanics couldn't fix it--or the fully-enclosed main parallelogram, which had even more complicated internals. 

The spring-loaded pulley wheel helped to make the Superbe Tech the best-shifting derailleur available--when it was new.  But, after some use, the pulley wheel  would seize up and turn the derailleur into a paperweight.  

In trying to defend itself against an onslaught from its competitors, SunTour created a derailleur with a sophisticated design and elegant appearance that indeed shifted better (in part, because it eliminated the need for cable housing) than any other derailleur--when it was new. However, just as Thetis didn't think to dip her son a second time to ensure that his heel would be soaked with Stygian water, the folks at SunTour apparently didn't go back and correct the weakness inherent in their new design.  So, in trying to protect themselves from the threats imposed by Huret and, later, Shimano, they made themselves vulnerable in a seemingly-small area.  

While the Superbe Tech's flawed pulley wheel did not, by itself, cause the demise of SunTour, many in the world of cycling believe it was where SunTour suffered its first debilitating wound. 

The Man Who Made--And Broke-- SunTour

Writing about SunTour yesterday got me, as Kurt Vonnegut wrote in Breakfast of Champions, "woozy with deja vu".  (How can you not love that phrase?)

You see, I started to take long rides as the '70's Bike Boom was gaining force.  That was also almost the exact time that American cyclists began to glom onto SunTour derailleurs.  

Although SunTour's wares would have dominated the North American (and other) cycling markets on their own merits, the fact that, around 1980, more bikes were equipped with the Japanese company's derailleurs, shifters and freewheels--and more of those parts were sold as replacements--than all of the other component manufacturers combined, is the result, at least in part, of the work of one person.

 


I'm talking about Frank Berto.  If you're a bit younger than I am, you probably think of him as the author of The Dancing Chain, a book for gear geeks if there ever was one. (It's an engaging read nonetheless.)  But for those of us who were around in the prehistoric days of cycling, when all bike manuals were written in Latin (OK, Italian and sometimes French and English), he will be forever known as the technical editor of Bicycling magazine.

Now, I know some of you (again, who weren't around in those times) might be scratching your heads and saying, "Bicycling had a technical editor"?  Those of you who are a bit younger might not believe that magazines had technical editors.  And, if you're younger still, you might not believe that magazines existed.

Trust me, they did.  And Bicycling--as much as I and others complained about it--was actually something more than the advertising vehicle or lifestyle tab it's been for at least two decades. 

As he tells it on his website,  Frank Berto bought a secondhand Schwinn Varsity in 1971, when he became involved with his sons' Boy Scout troop.  He was then a 42-year-old mechanical engineer who, until that time, hadn't been on a bike in more than two decades.  On his first ride with his son's troop, all of the young whippersnappers blew past him on a long and winding hill that would be his Road to Damascus."If I had a bigger sprocket in the back, I could pedal up this lousy hill," he thought.  Shortly thereafter, he rode to his local bike shop and bought a SunTour 14-34 freewheel (Varsities came with 14-28) and a SunTour VGT rear derailleur.  

He tried to install them himself, but realized he had no clue as to what to do.  Nor, as it turned out, did the shop that sold him the parts.  None of the bicycle-related books (remember those?) in his local library were of any help.

His yearlong odyssey to lower the gears on that tank called the Varsity ended with him writing, first for Bike World and, not long afterward, for Bicycling.  After mining his own experiences, he conducted a series of tests and published his ratings of derailleurs that were available at the time.  The message of much of his work from that time can be more or less summed up with this sentence: "If you are unhappy with your shifting, the SunTour VGT is your best prescription".

The thing is, he was right.  The VGT, which cost about $10 at the time, could handle the freewheel he installed on the Varsity--and more.  And, because of its design, it shifted more easily and accurately on smaller racing freewheels than even the derailleurs supposedly designed for them.  Those derailleurs from Campagnolo and Huret cost four times as much.  Even the SunTour Cyclone, which came out a year or two after Berto made his pronouncement, cost less than half as much as those European derailleurs--and was lighter (and prettier) than any except the Huret Jubilee.

Ironically, for all that he did to build SunTour's reputation, he may have unwittingly contributed to its undoing.  When Huret came out with the Duopar touring derailleur in the late 1970's, he enthused about it. Up to that time, SunTour's shifting--especially on wide-range touring gears--was light-years ahead of everyone else's.  That anyone could make something better, even if only marginally so, seemed inconceivable.   And for Frank Berto to say so was like the CEO of the Bank of America endorsing socialism.

By that time, the folks working for SunTour were paying as much attention to Berto's articles as Anna Wintour does to fashion shows.  They panicked and made some ill-advised changes to some of their products.  

A few years after that, Berto praised one of the results of SunTour's changes:  the Superbe Tech derailleur.  He praised it even more lavishly than he did any previous SunTour product--or the Duopar.  It shifted as well as he said, and was beautiful.  But it also had some fatal design flaws--as did the Duopar--that truncated its lifespan to about 3000 km.  By that time, SunTour's patents had expired, and Shimano had adopted SunTour's most salient feature--the slant parallelogram--even faster than President Bush signed the Patriot Act after 9/11.  

Oh, how I miss SunTour.  And Bicycling magazine, when it had a technical editor.