One of my favorite bloggers is The Retrogrouch. So, I intend no disrespect to him with this post.
He is, of course, not the only cyclist to refer to himself as a Retrogrouch. I am mainly in sympathy with him and the others who so identify themselves: I ride steel frames, hand-laced wheels, downtube shifters (on my geared bikes), pedals with toe clips and Brooks saddles (except on my LeTour). And all of my cranksets have square tapered axles.
On the other hand, I ride cassette hubs on my geared bikes (though the Trek 412 I'm building will have a screw-on freewheel). The chief reasons are convenience and availablity: No high-quality multiple-sprocket freewheels are made today (All of the good ones are single-speed.) and most of the new-old-stock freewheels one can find on eBay and in other places have gear ratios that are useless to me. (I am "of a certain age" and don't race, so what can I do with a 12-13-14-15-16-17-18?) The unusued ones command exorbitant prices, while buying a used one is risky: Your chain may or may not play nice with it.
And, as you can see from the photos in my sidebars, some of my components are black. Some see that as a sign of a "sell-out", but there were indeed black components in the '70's and earlier. Even the high priests of "shiny silver" at Velo Orange (which is actually one of my favorite online retailers) concede as much.
So, having said my piece about Retrogrouches, I want to introduce another species or clan or tribe (depending on your point of view) of cyclists. I will call them Retrogeeks.
Now, Retrogeeks and Retrogrouches are not mutually exclusive. In fact, many can be identified, and would identify themselves, by both monikers. One notable exception would be the late, great Sheldon Brown: His encyclopaedic knowledge of all things bicycle made him a Retrogeek but, although he rode mainly steel frames and many older components, he did not think old is always better than new. So he is not a Retrogrouch, though some have called him that.
One hallmark of a Retrogeek is that he or she knows authentic vintage bikes and parts from ersatz ones, and can tell whether or not an old bike or part was modified. Today, I am going to conduct a sort of Rorsach test that might help you to begin to figure out whether or not you are a Retrogeek. Take a look at this photo:
Now take a look at this:
They are both images of the old Zefal Competition pump. With its color scheme, you probably wouldn't be surprised to know that many pro and semi-professional French bikes of the '60's and '70's came with it. The only other portable bike pump that was considered its equal (or, in some eyes, its better) was the Silca Impero.
What is the difference between the two Competitions in the first two photos?
If you look at the first two photos in this post, you will see that the pump in the second has the traditional press-on valve fitting, like the ones available for Silca pumps. To my knowledge, all Competitions came with it. The pump in the first photo, in contrast, has a thumb-lock fitting--from a Zefal HP pump, the Competition's successor.
Pity that poor HP. Had it been functional, I probably would use it on the Trek 412 I'm putting together: It was the pump of choice at the time the bike was made. Apart from the finish (polished on the Competition, silver anodized on the HP) and the color scheme, the only difference between the Competition and HP is in the head.
One nice thing about the Silcas is that you can change the head simply by twisting it off. A Zefal head, on the other hand, attaches to one of the strangest-looking screws ever made
all the way inside the body. Zefal used to make a tool for the purpose. The only one I ever saw (or used before today) resided on Frank's toolbench in Highland Park (NJ) Cyclery, where I worked.
A screwdriver with a long flat blade would unscrew it--as long as the shaft is about 400mm long. (At least, I think that's how long the Zefal tool was.) My longest screwdriver is only 12 inches (about 300mm). So I resorted to another implement
or, I should say, collection of implements. Assembled, it makes me think more of a crane--or of something made with an Erector Set-- than of any other hand tool I have ever seen or used.
It consists of a 3/8" socket drive with two extensions-- one of 10 inches (250mm), the other 6 inches (150mm), a 3/8"-to-1/4" adapter and the blade assembly from one of my reversible screwdrivers which--wonder of wonders!--fit into the 1/4" socket.
Getting the screw out wasn't difficult. But reassembling was a bit trickier. I dropped the screw into the pump shaft and jiggled it until the threads protruded from the bottom. Then I inserted my contraption and held it against the screw and screwed the head on for a couple of threads. You can't screw it on all the way since the hole at the bottom of the pump has a hexagonal shape, into which the inner lip of the pump end fits.
So, after threading the head onto the screw for a couple of threads, I rotated the pump body until the hexagonal lip of the pump head skid slid into the hexagonal hole at the bottom of the pump body (easily yet snugly: the parts were well-machined). Of course, I lightly greased the hexagonal parts and the screw threads before re-assembling everything--and, between disassembly and reassembly, I cleaned out the shaft and gave the inside a light coating of fresh grease.
The "operation" was a success: I pumped two tires to full pressure (90 PSI). Yes, I cleaned out the head before I re-assembled the pump.
I know I could have kept the Competition as it was. I ride only Presta valves, so the press-on fitting would have worked just fine. (I know: I used both Silcas and Zefal Competitions for years.) But it is easier to pump high-pressure tires with the thumb-lock attachment. Plus, I now have a pump that nobody (or, at least, hardly anybody) else has. Don't worry: I saved the original Competition head and screw, just in case I decide to convert it back.
Now, if you've been following this blog for the past few weeks, you can guess which bike is getting this pump.
He is, of course, not the only cyclist to refer to himself as a Retrogrouch. I am mainly in sympathy with him and the others who so identify themselves: I ride steel frames, hand-laced wheels, downtube shifters (on my geared bikes), pedals with toe clips and Brooks saddles (except on my LeTour). And all of my cranksets have square tapered axles.
On the other hand, I ride cassette hubs on my geared bikes (though the Trek 412 I'm building will have a screw-on freewheel). The chief reasons are convenience and availablity: No high-quality multiple-sprocket freewheels are made today (All of the good ones are single-speed.) and most of the new-old-stock freewheels one can find on eBay and in other places have gear ratios that are useless to me. (I am "of a certain age" and don't race, so what can I do with a 12-13-14-15-16-17-18?) The unusued ones command exorbitant prices, while buying a used one is risky: Your chain may or may not play nice with it.
And, as you can see from the photos in my sidebars, some of my components are black. Some see that as a sign of a "sell-out", but there were indeed black components in the '70's and earlier. Even the high priests of "shiny silver" at Velo Orange (which is actually one of my favorite online retailers) concede as much.
So, having said my piece about Retrogrouches, I want to introduce another species or clan or tribe (depending on your point of view) of cyclists. I will call them Retrogeeks.
Now, Retrogeeks and Retrogrouches are not mutually exclusive. In fact, many can be identified, and would identify themselves, by both monikers. One notable exception would be the late, great Sheldon Brown: His encyclopaedic knowledge of all things bicycle made him a Retrogeek but, although he rode mainly steel frames and many older components, he did not think old is always better than new. So he is not a Retrogrouch, though some have called him that.
One hallmark of a Retrogeek is that he or she knows authentic vintage bikes and parts from ersatz ones, and can tell whether or not an old bike or part was modified. Today, I am going to conduct a sort of Rorsach test that might help you to begin to figure out whether or not you are a Retrogeek. Take a look at this photo:
Now take a look at this:
They are both images of the old Zefal Competition pump. With its color scheme, you probably wouldn't be surprised to know that many pro and semi-professional French bikes of the '60's and '70's came with it. The only other portable bike pump that was considered its equal (or, in some eyes, its better) was the Silca Impero.
What is the difference between the two Competitions in the first two photos?
If you look at the first two photos in this post, you will see that the pump in the second has the traditional press-on valve fitting, like the ones available for Silca pumps. To my knowledge, all Competitions came with it. The pump in the first photo, in contrast, has a thumb-lock fitting--from a Zefal HP pump, the Competition's successor.
Pity that poor HP. Had it been functional, I probably would use it on the Trek 412 I'm putting together: It was the pump of choice at the time the bike was made. Apart from the finish (polished on the Competition, silver anodized on the HP) and the color scheme, the only difference between the Competition and HP is in the head.
One nice thing about the Silcas is that you can change the head simply by twisting it off. A Zefal head, on the other hand, attaches to one of the strangest-looking screws ever made
all the way inside the body. Zefal used to make a tool for the purpose. The only one I ever saw (or used before today) resided on Frank's toolbench in Highland Park (NJ) Cyclery, where I worked.
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| From Yellow Jersey |
A screwdriver with a long flat blade would unscrew it--as long as the shaft is about 400mm long. (At least, I think that's how long the Zefal tool was.) My longest screwdriver is only 12 inches (about 300mm). So I resorted to another implement
or, I should say, collection of implements. Assembled, it makes me think more of a crane--or of something made with an Erector Set-- than of any other hand tool I have ever seen or used.
It consists of a 3/8" socket drive with two extensions-- one of 10 inches (250mm), the other 6 inches (150mm), a 3/8"-to-1/4" adapter and the blade assembly from one of my reversible screwdrivers which--wonder of wonders!--fit into the 1/4" socket.
Getting the screw out wasn't difficult. But reassembling was a bit trickier. I dropped the screw into the pump shaft and jiggled it until the threads protruded from the bottom. Then I inserted my contraption and held it against the screw and screwed the head on for a couple of threads. You can't screw it on all the way since the hole at the bottom of the pump has a hexagonal shape, into which the inner lip of the pump end fits.
So, after threading the head onto the screw for a couple of threads, I rotated the pump body until the hexagonal lip of the pump head skid slid into the hexagonal hole at the bottom of the pump body (easily yet snugly: the parts were well-machined). Of course, I lightly greased the hexagonal parts and the screw threads before re-assembling everything--and, between disassembly and reassembly, I cleaned out the shaft and gave the inside a light coating of fresh grease.
The "operation" was a success: I pumped two tires to full pressure (90 PSI). Yes, I cleaned out the head before I re-assembled the pump.
I know I could have kept the Competition as it was. I ride only Presta valves, so the press-on fitting would have worked just fine. (I know: I used both Silcas and Zefal Competitions for years.) But it is easier to pump high-pressure tires with the thumb-lock attachment. Plus, I now have a pump that nobody (or, at least, hardly anybody) else has. Don't worry: I saved the original Competition head and screw, just in case I decide to convert it back.
Now, if you've been following this blog for the past few weeks, you can guess which bike is getting this pump.
