Given The Choice, I Would Ride...

Having spent four decades as a devoted cyclist, and having worked in bike shops, I've seen lots of bikes come and go.  I have worked on bikes, parts and accessories made by companies that no longer exist (or, in some cases, by people long dead or who stopped for whatever reasons).  Some richly deserved to be tossed into the dust pail of history; others should have been put in the recycle bin or, at least, the parts box.  

Of course, I took a few "test" rides on interesting bikes I repaired, maintained and assembled.  But there are many more that I never got to ride.  If someone asked me what bike, no longer made, I would ride if given the chance, I'd have to spend a lot of time thinking about it.  A classic velo from a constructeur like Rene Herse or Jo Routens would be high on my list.  So would something from Jack Taylor, especially a tandem.  (Of course, I might not be in a position to truly appreciate it, as I haven't ridden tandems very much!) I'd also be curious to try an early Schwinn Paramount or Colnago as well as some bikes from Americans who built bikes for the six-day racers.  Finally, I'd like to ride some very early Mercians (they started building in 1946) and compare them to more recent ones and, of course, my own.

But if someone were to ask me what part or component I'd like to try, the answer would be much easier:  a Nivex derailleur.  I have grown especially curious about it since "The Retrogrouch" wrote a post on his blog about it and in the most recent Bicycle Quarterly, Jan Heine described the one he installed on his "Rene Herse", built in 2011.  Even he admits that its advantages weren't worth the time and effort he had to put into finding parts for, and rebuilding, the mechanism.  Still, his and "Retrogrouch"'s description of it have fascinated me.

Classic Nivex rear derailleur on Alex Singer bike.  From the Bicycle Quarterly Press

I actually saw one or two--or, at least, derailleurs that closely resembled it--when I worked in shops and the first two times I toured in France.  It makes sense:  Those tours were in 1980 and 1984, and I started working in bike shops in 1975.  Dedicated cyclists, especially in Europe, have tended to keep bikes they like for longer than people keep cars and other items.  So it makes sense that there were still cyclists--mostly of a certain age--riding on bikes from the 1930's, '40's and '50's, when the Nivex was produced.  And, because of its rugged construction (mostly from steel) and design (mounted under the chainstay), it tends to last a long time.  

I think there are several reasons why they fell into disuse.  One, of course, is that the supply dried up.  But more important, once Campagnolo introduced its Gran Sport derailleur--one of the first parallelogram derailleurs made to mount on the rear dropout--bike builders made their frames with dropouts for derailleurs like it rather than the bracket brazed on the chainstay that Nivex and derailleurs like it required.  And other derailleur makers, most notably Huret and Simplex, followed Campagnolo's lead.  Also, as more bikes were spec'd with derailleurs that mounted on the dropout, and more cyclists rode with them, people--including mechanics--forgot how to use, maintain and repair the Nivex.  Finally, as production of Nivex derailleurs and others like it ceased and it fell into disuse, parts for it--and, just as important, the hubs, freewheels and companion components that maximized the advantages of the derailleur--became more difficult to find, especially in the days before eBay.  

(These days, you can go to eBay.  But if you do, be prepared to pay for Nivex and other classic French parts, as they are prized by Japanese collectors!)

From what Jan Heine and "The Retrogrouch" have said, the Nivex derailleur offered all of the advantages other derailleur makers would later try to achieve with spring-loaded top pivot bolts, dropped parallelograms, slant parallelograms and indexing.  That is the reason I'd love to try one.  But I don't think I'd order a bike, as Jan did, that's made for it simply because of the difficulties I mentioned earlier.  

SunTour S-1

One of the few recent attempts to make a derailleur that, in any way, mimicked the Nivex is the SunTour  S-1 of the early 1990's.  "Retrogrouch" said that, to his knowledge, the only bike to come equipped with it was the 1993 Schwinn Criss Cross.  (My Criss Cross, from a year earlier, had SunTour "Accushift" derailleurs and indexed levers mounted on the handlebars.)  Even though, from all accounts, it worked well enough, shop owners and mechanics complained about it and customers didn't want it because it differed from the standards of the time.  Plus, Shimano so thoroughly dominated the market by that time that any other company--especially one that was on the ropes, as SunTour clearly was by that time--would have had a difficult time introducing a "new" concept.  (Most people at that time didn't know about Nivex.)  As far as I know, nobody bought the S-1 as a replacement part because it couldn't be retrofitted to most bikes, which lacked the necessary brazed-on chainstay boss. Perhaps one could improvise a mounting bracket, but who would have taken the time to do that?

Anyway, I would like to ride a Nivex one day.  Jan, if I'm ever out your way, could I borrow your bike for a while?  I may even give you my PMP crank for the privilege! ;-)

The End Of A Legend: R.I.P. Jack Taylor

Last week, I wrote a post about a Jack Taylor "Rough Stuff" bicycle designed in the 1950s and built, apparently, during the 1970s.

Jack Taylor (l) with brothers Ken and Norman

Well, the man whose name that bike bore died on Sunday.  Jack Taylor, who started building bicycles as a teenager in 1936.  At the time, he raced in the then-vibrant club racing scene in his native England.  According to legend (who started it, I don't know), he admired some high-end equipment but couldn't afford it.  So he set out to making it himself.

In the beginning, his friends Lance Bell and Jack Hood helped him.  At the end of the war, in 1945, his brothers Ken and Norman joined him to form Jack  Taylor Cycles.  Interestingly, Norman would come to be the actual frame-builder and Ken would build wheels, assemble the bikes and box them for shipping.  On each of those boxes--many of which went to the USA--Ken wrote, "Have a nice ride".  If I were a collector, I'd probably want one of those boxes almost as much as I'd want one of their bikes!

Jack, however, was the one who ensured you could tell a Jack Taylor--whether a racing, touring or "rough stuff" bike, or a tandem--from any other.  He's the one who gave the bikes their beautiful paint finishes and the box pinstriping that became his "signature", if you will.

That Jack Taylor stood out in a time and country with so many first-rate bike builders is a testament to, not only his (and his brothers') workmanship, but the ride and designs of their bikes.  They used geometries and configurations (such as curved seat tubes) that were previously all but unknown.  Among those configurations is the "Rough Stuff" frame I showed in my earlier post:  It has most of the major design elements of a modern mountain bike (high bottom bracket, sloping top tube, smaller-than-700C wheels) but was designed two decades before Gary Fisher, Joe Breeze, Keith Bontrager and the mountain-bike pioneers started barreling down Marin County fire trails on old Schwinn balloon-tired bombers.

Perhaps the most interesting Jack Taylor bikes--and the ones for which he is most renowned--are his touring bikes and tandems.  Those bikes are also the reason why JT was often called "the most French" of English bike builders.  The features that made them so well-suited to their purposes were adapted from constructeurs like Rene Herse, Alex Singer and Goeland:  frame geometries, integrated racks and fenders, oversized headsets and down tubes and brazed-on cantilever brakes, which hadn't been used much in England before JT started using them.

Many Taylor bikes (of all kinds) were also built without lugs in a technique called "filet brazing" or "bronze welding" which made the frames look as if they were sculpted from one piece of metal and polished.  (My  old Land Shark was constructed that way.)  Jack admitted that, as much as it made some of his bikes look as if they were built by one of the constructeurs, he did it because lugs and some other materials were scarce during the years just after the war.  However, even after he had an easier time finding the lugs he liked, he continued to make many of his bikes without them. Sometimes customers preferred them that way. But, more important, it allowed for greater flexibility in design:  an especially important point when building tandems.

Just about all Jack Taylors were built from Reynolds 531 tubing.  Jack developed a close relationship with the company.  For one thing, it guaranteed his supply.  But more important, it meant that Reynolds would make variations on their tubing--such as the curved and oversized tubes--to suit Taylors' unique designs.  In fact, Reynolds made some configurations of their tubing for Jack Taylor an no one else.

Jack retired in 1990, but Norman--who died six years ago at the age of 84--continued to build frames for another decade or so.  They had the same build quality as the older bikes, but because the paint and finish work was outsourced, they did not have the unique, distinctive beauty of the earlier bikes.

So goes another legend of the cycling world.  You can read another tribute (possibly better than mine) on a favorite blog of mine:  The Retrogrouch.

Rough Stuff From The Brothers

Back when mountain bikes were new--well, they weren't.  Not really.

When Gary Fisher, or whoever, broke his twentieth or thirtieth balloon-tire bomber frame while barreling down the fire trails of Marin County and decided to fashion a lighter, stronger frame with the same geometry--and provisions for multiple gears, dearailleurs and cantilever brakes--it wasn't a radical new idea.

That's not to say that it wasn't important, which would be like saying that Levi Strauss has had no effect on the way people dress.  At the time Gary Fisher, Keith Bontrager and those mountain-bike pioneers were introducing their rigs, almost no other Americans--or, for that matter, people in other parts of the cycling world--had seen a bike made for the rigors of trail riding.

The idea of such a bike has been around since the dawn of cycling itself.  It makes sense, when you think about it:  When the first vehicles we recognize as bicycles appeared about 130 or 140 years ago, there were few paved roads.  Riding even those could shake one's bones even more than the "boneshakers" of that time.  Bikes at that time had to withstand being ridden over ruts, rocks and sometimes roots.

Some might argue that the velos a ballon one still finds in the French countryside are forerunners of today's velos a tout terrain. Other possible ancestors of today's mountain bikes could also include any number of wide-tired bikes used for transportation and even recreation in various parts of the world.

In England, there was a genre called the "Rough Stuff" bike.  Jack Taylor Cycles, most renowned for their tandems, actually used the catchy phrase as the name for  one model  of single-rider bikes they made. 



Isn't it funny how so many ideas that seemed so radical in the 1980's are present on a bike designed three decades earlier?  I'm talking about the sloping top tube, high bottom bracket and small (compared to a typical road bike) diameter wheels.  Also, this bike has the Mafac cantilever brakes and Specialites TA ProVis 5 (a.k.a. Cyclotouriste) cranks. 

Before the tries and cables were replaced.

The bike was first produced from drawings submitted by a nature photographer.  In the early 1950's, photography equipment was much bigger, bulkier and heavier than it is now.  The built-in rear rack, like the whole bike, is built to withstand the rigors of carrying such a load in the wild.

Here is a BBC documentary about Jack--and his brothers/fellow builders Ken and Norman--that aired in 1986:


 

Fit For A King (Or Prince, Anyway)

Mention "British bicycles" to aficionados, and names of classic builders like Jack Taylor, Mercian, Hetchins and Bob Jackson will come to our minds.

However, the first name most people will think of is Raleigh.

Apparently, that is one way in which members of the Royal Family--at least some of them, anyway--are like commoners.

If you' think you've seen him before, you're not thinking of  a cheesy way to start a conversation.  While not as famous as some of his relatives, Prince Edward indeed has one of the world's most familiar faces.  In this photo, he's pedaling to one of his classes at Cambridge University in 1983.

Speaking of family members, here's one some would rather forget:

Yes, he is none other than Prince Charles.  To be fair, I have to say that he increased my capacity for empathy:  I never thought I could feel sorry for a member of the Royal Family until I watched Lady Diana exchanging vows with him in 1981.  

Ambrose Bierce wrote, "For every sauce invented and accepted, a vice is renounced and forgiven."  I suppose we can forgive a prince for something when he takes a spin on one of his country's classic bikes.



 

Never Again. Unless....

Every time I swear I won't do something ever again...

Someone gives me a plate of nachos or chocolate chip cookies.  Or a ridiculously cute kittie needs a home.  Or I meet someone and start dating.  Or I teach.

All of those things have happened within the last year-plus.  But I'm not going to write about them now. Instead, I'm going to tell you about another "never again" pledge broken.


Yes, I've taken on another bike project.  This Trek 720 is a hybrid, as best as I can tell, from the early or mid-90s. It's heavy, at least compared to the bikes I have.  And while it's made of chrome-moly tubing--probably straight-gauge--it's has plain welds at the joints:  nothing fancy, but seemingly intact.

(During the early and mid-1980's, Trek made a loaded-touring bike that was also called the 720.  It was a lugged frame made from Reynolds 531 tubing and had multiple braze-ons for racks and water bottles--and for center-pull brakes.  About the only nicer touring bikes at that time were made by Mercian, Jack Taylor and Alex Singer.  Trek discontinued the touring 720 in the late '80's and introduced the 720 hybrid in 1990.)

I got a deal I couldn't refuse. I'm partly Sicilian.  I'm supposed to say stuff like that.  Really, I got it for nothing.  On it, I installed a stem and rear derailleur I've had for ages.  And a seat post I've had lying around, in 26.6 mm diameter, seems to fit.

I'm going to put it together, as I find parts.  Then I'll decide whether to use it as a "combat" or "feed to the sharks" bike, or to sell it or whatever.  Then I'll never, ever take on another restoration or rebuilding project, ever again.  Really.

 

Sheldon, Aaron and Bob

Today was an unusually warm day for this time of year.  Because of a scheduling oddity, I didn't have classes today.  So, I took Tosca out for a ride through some of the landmarked areas of Woodside and Jackson Heights, as well as the promenade along that starts near LaGuardia Airport and goes to the World's Fair Marina.


Then I had an appointment in Manhattan, to which I rode Vera.  I changed bikes because I changed clothes:  from sweats and trainer shoes to a skirt, blouse and dressier shoes.


After my appointment, I took a quick swing down to Bicycle Habitat, from which I ordered Tosca, Arielle and Helene as well as some of the components I hung on them and other equipment I use with them.  Hal wasn't in, but I did see two employees I hadn't seen in a while:  Aaron and Sheldon.

Sheldon is an old riding buddy whom I didn't see for about a decade or so until I bumped into him in the shop not long before my surgery.  I don't think I'd seen him since some time in the fall:  I think I showed up on his off-days or -hours.


Aaron, like Sheldon, has been working in the shop for some time.  He doesn't want me to publish his photo. However, he said I could publish photos, and write about, of one of his bikes, of which I'd only heard before today.  

It's a nice Bob Jackson from, I believe, the '70's.  He's outfitted it with contemporary components: The only "period" pieces are the SunTour ratchet shifters and Cyclone rear derailleurs.  I can understand using those:  I used them myself, back in the day.


I remember, as a teenager, seeing Bob Jacksons, Mercians, Ron Coopers and the frames of some other English builder--I don't remember which, except that I don't think it was Jack Taylor--in a catalogue somewhere.  

I knew that the best racing bikes were believed to be those from Italy and a few American custom builders. The English made some excellent racing frames, too; in my heart of hearts, I really wanted one of those--or one from a French constructeur--even more than an Italian bike.  I would eventually ride, and race, on a couple of Italian bikes, but I really liked the ride qualities of those English frames (I got to try a few that belonged to customers in shops where I worked.).  Plus, the Italian racing frames always seemed gaudy to me, even in my youth; I always felt that my "bike for life" would have the meticulous lugwork and other detail of those English builders.  Their workmanship impressed me more than what I saw on the Italian bikes.

The only braze-ons the frame has are for the water bottle cage (on the downtube only) and a "stop" for the shift lever band.  That was typical on bikes of that time:  at least a couple of bikes I owned were so made.


That frame is at least thirty years old, and it's not hard to imagine Aaron--or somebody else--riding it for another thirty years.  I think Bob Jacksons are still being made--although, by this time, I rather doubt Bob Jackson himself is building them.  I don't know whether Ron Coopers or Jack Taylors are still being built:  I haven't seen references to them in recent catalogues or magazines.  At least it's nice to know that Mercian is still keeping up the flame they, and those other builders, kept burning for decades.