Showing posts with label Sachs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sachs. Show all posts

22 May 2018

Buying What They Were

Five of my six bikes are equipped with SRAM chains, even though I don't currently use any other SRAM components.

It's an old habit: The first replacement chain I ever bought was a Sedis. It worked well for me, and I would use continue to use Sedis chains...until they became Sachs chains.  Then I used Sachs chains...until they became SRAM.


Back in the '80's, Sachs, which was known primarily for multigear and coaster brake hubs, bought out Sedis, as well as several other French component makers, most notably Maillard and Huret.  A few years later, the SRAM consortium, which consisted of Grip Shift, Rock Shox and a few other parts makers, acquired Sachs.


To keep simple-minded folk like me from getting confused, for the first few years of Sachs ownership, the company marketed those parts--which were still made in France--under hyphenated names:  Sachs-Sedis, Sachs-Maillard and Sachs-Huret.  But SRAM tossed all of those names into the dustbin of history.  I didn't mind:  I still like the chains.


I mention this because of another interesting name-change.  Rivendell is, of course, the bike brand Grant Peterson created from the ashes of Bridgestone.  Now "Rivendell" and "Bridgestone" are often used as terms to describe a kind of retro-ish or modern-retro bike, much as "Scotch tape" has become a generic term for rolls of clear adhesive bands, even though the phrase is a registered trademark of 3M.


Today Bridgestone bikes have something of a cult following.  So does Rivendell, if it's not a status symbol in some circles.  But what's commonly forgotten is that Bridgestone had two other identities, at least in the US, before it became Bridgestone.


Back in the early '70's, when the American Eagle Kokusai (later known as the Nishiki International) and Fuji S-10S were showing that Japanese bikes could compete with, and sometimes beat (especially in shifting), their European counterparts, there was another Japanese bike brand that seemed determined to make people remember why they shunned anything with a "Made In Japan" label.  


To be fair, some bikes sold under the C.Itoh brand were pretty good riders.  The company even had a "professional" model with a chrome-moly frame, Sugino Competition cranks, Sun Tour bar end shifters, "V" rear derailleur and Compe V front; Dia Compe brakes and Sanshin-Sunshine hubs with tubular rims and tires.  It was like a lower-priced version of the Fuji Finest, Nishiki Professional or Miyata Pro, with the best pre-Cyclone, pre-Dura Ace equipment available.


C.Itoh bike, circa 1972


But there were other C.Itoh bikes that, shall we say, reenforced all of the old negative stereotypes about Japanese bikes:  They had clunky lugs and bottom bracket shells,  dropouts and other frame fittings that were, to put it politely, quirky. The paint on those frames and chroming on the rims and bars flaked and came flying off when the bike was operated at more-than-average speeds.




Bridgestone-Kabuki "Superlight", circa 1975


(Maybe the folks making those bikes were trying to emulate the French, as Japanese bike makers often did in those days, and so believed they had to make their bikes like croissants.*)

Some of those bikes also came with a seatpost that almost no novice cyclist of the time had seen:  It looked more like the quill of a stem, with an expander bolt and plug that worked like those of a stem.  So, you didn't tighten your seat post with a seat binder bolt:  The expander kept it in the frame.  In one way, that's a good idea:  At least you don't have to worry about stripping out or deforming the seat lug.  On the other hand, it meant that saddle height adjustments could be made only by removing the saddle.


Kabuki Submariner, circa 1975


When C.Itoh bikes were rebranded , they kept that strange seat post. They also kept the clunky-looking lugs and bottom bracket shell.  At least they made sense on one model.  If you haven't seen it, you've heard of it:  the Submariner.  At least, that's what it was called when C. Itoh became Kabuki.

The Submariner was ostensibly a bike designed for marine environments.  So those lugs and bottom bracket shell were thick because they were aluminum.  Why were they aluminum?  Supposedly because they were needed in order to braze together the tubes, which were stainless steel:  Using steel lugs would have all but required silver brazing rod, which is much more expensive than the brass brazing rods used on most bikes, to keep from overheating the stainless steel.

The thing is, most other Kabukis looked like Submariners with paint on them.  What's funny about that, and the Submariners, is they date themselves as '70's bikes precisely because they don't look like other bikes from that period.  And they were sold under the Kabuki name because, by the mid-70s, people were actually willing to buy Japanese bikes because they were Japanese, so it wasn't necessary to mask their identities with names that didn't sound Japanese. (American Eagle?)


A rather nice Kabuki track bike, circa 1974


A decade later, when Kabuki became Bridgestone, and Grant Petersen became their lead designer, people were buying them because they rode--and looked--like the bikes they remembered from the '70's.  And they're paying even more for that privilege when they buy Rivendell, the line of bikes Grant started after Bridgestone closed its US operations in the mid-90s.

So, while I buy SRAM chains because they were (and, really, still are) Sedis chains, you probably aren't buying a Rivendell--or didn't buy a Bridgestone--because it was Kabuki or C.Itoh.  At least, I hope not.

(*By the way, I didn't mean to disparage French bikes, or anything else French.  I love croissants, and some French bikes, but that doesn't mean bikes should be made like croissants!)

12 October 2014

The D.I.R.T. On This Derailleur

I've found a derailleur that not even Michael Sweatman, the author of Disraeligears, has.  At least it's not in the "A Riot of Colour" section of his website.



If I'd found the derailleur in the photo about fifteen years ago--when they were, most likely, last made--I might've installed it on my Voodoo Wazoo.  After all, that bike was orange and had a few green parts!



The Sachs D.I.R.T. derailleur series was, as its name indicates, intended for mountain bikes.  During the early 1980's, Sachs--a German company known mainly for its coaster brake- and internally geared-hubs--bought French derailleur maker Huret, along with Maillard, a Gallic concern that manufactured hubs (including the well-conceived but poorly-executed Helicomatic), freewheels, pedals and other components, sometimes under the "Normandy" and "Atom" brands.  Later in the decade, Sachs was absorbed into SRAM but continued to make its derailleurs in France under their own name.  

The D.I.R.T. series, along with the company's Quartz and Success road changers, were among the last derailleurs produced on French soil.  (According to Frank Berto in The Dancing Chain, the Mavic Mektronic was probably the last.)  They, and other Sachs derailleurs, were actually well-designed and -made.  But Sachs never developed an integrated drive train group and thus never competed with the Shimano juggernaut.

Now that I think of it, the derailleur in the photos wouldn't look bad on the bike I wrote about yesterday!

04 July 2014

Old Glory, The Union Jack Or Le Bleu, Blanc Et Rouge

Three years ago, I wrote about red, white and blue bicycles--and someone who had a red, a white and a blue Cannondale.

Now I'm going to show you some red-white-and-blue (or bleu, blanc et rouge) components and accessories. 

Ironically, one of greatest pieces of Americana kitsch--in bicycle components, anyway--was made in France:



When SRAM took over Sachs--which, in turn, had swallowed up some French component manufacturers such as Huret, Maillard and Sedis--they continued to manufacture components in the old French plants for a few years before moving their production to Taiwan (except for the chains, which are made in Portugal).

In a way, it makes sense that the "Betsy" derailleur appeared when it did , circa 1997.  That's when the craze for mountain bike parts anodized in a rainbow of colors hit its peak.  In some ways, it was a reaction against the gray uniformity (literal as well as metaphorical) of what Shimano was producing at the time.  Yes, their stuff worked fine (except for the early Rapid Fire shifters).  But a bike equipped with them had all the personality of, well, a Gateway computer with Windows 98 (which, I admit, I used for nearly a decade).  

Another offspring of that craze was the Paul Powerglide derailleur:





In addition to the red-white(well, silver)-and-blue combination shown here, it was also available in a "rasta" finish as well as purple, green, blue, red and other standard anodized colors. Whatever you chose--even plain silver or black (Now why would you do that if you were spending $280 on a derailleur?) your derailleur was emblazoned with the stars and stripes.



Here's another tricolore derailleur from around the same time:



Although branded "Stronglight", it was most likely made in the same factory as "Betsy" in the first photo.  Also, once the colors and badges are removed, it's pretty much identical to a Sachs "Success" or "Quartz" from that period.

Now here's a tricolore acessory that gets me misty-eyed:




This Zefal "Competition" pump is the predecessor of the HP series.  In fact, if you take away the thumb-lock valve fitting and the handle that switches between "HP" 9for pumping" and "X" (to mount it on your bike), you have a "Comoetition",

I used a "Competition" for years, on several bikes.  I had a SIlca Impero, which was about 60 grams lighter, for my racing bike, but for every other kind of riding, I used my Competition.  It worked better and was more durable than the Silca, and its color scheme reminded me about "liberte, egalite et fraternite."  Why I wanted to be reminded of those things, I don't know, but I don't think I'm any the worse for being reminded of them.

I'm sure there have been other components and accessories in red, white and blue or bleu, blanc et rouge.  Now all we need are bike parts that play "The Star Spangled Banner" or
 "La Marseillaise" (or, perhaps, "God Save The Queen") when you need a boost of energy.

Happy Fourth Of July.  Wish me a happy birthday.  (Yes, it's today!)