Hasta La Vista, Esquire!

Yesterday, I mentioned Vista bicycles.  If you became a cyclist around the time I did--or were in junior high or high school when I was--in the US, you probably saw a lot of them, if you didn't have one yourself.

Vista Esquire, circa 1972

I got my Schwinn Continental just as the '70's Bike Boom was building up steam.  At that time, shops routinely ran out of Schwinns, Peugeots and Raleighs, which were the most popular brands in bike shops.  I had to wait three months for my Continental, which was not unusual.  But not everybody was willing to wait for one of those brands, and dealers knew that such customers would buy pretty much any ten-speed that resembled, even in the most superficial ways, bikes from those companies.  

Head badge from early Vista bicycle.

Some accused Schwinn of suppressing production in order to create such a demand and, consequently, drive up prices.  Truth was, they, like most other bike manufacturers, simply couldn't keep up with the demand: US Bicycle sales doubled from 1970 to 1972.  Even the boatloads of bikes that arrived daily from Europe and Asia weren't enough to satisfy consumers.

Schwinn Collegiate, circa 1972

Schwinn, however, did something else that made their bikes--and, by extension, other ten-speeds--more difficult to find, especially in rural areas.  On the eve of the Bike Boom, in the 1960s, Schwinn tried to eliminate from its dealer networks the small-town stores that sold tractors, feed and fertilizer, hardware, guns, cars or whatever else alongside Schwinn bicycles. (Some kept only a couple of bikes in the store and if the customer wanted another model or color, or needed a different size, the shop ordered it.)  The company wanted their bikes sold in showrooms devoted to their bikes and that stocked a sizeable number of Schwinn bikes and accessories.  Jake's Feed and Seed or Rick's Rifles couldn't or wouldn't make the investment in showrooms and inventory and were thus shut out of what would become a lucrative enterprise.

Vista Esquire, circa 1971

In response, a group of manufacturers and suppliers formed the National Independent Dealers Association and put together a line of bikes.  It's long been rumored that one of those manufacturers was Columbia bicycles of Westfield, Massachusetts:  Early Vista bicycles, for all of their attempts to look like Schwinns, had the style of everything from welding to graphics seen on the Columbia bicycles found in department stores.  

I knew more than a few kids--and a few adults--who rode them when they couldn't get Schwinns.  Vistas sold for about 20 percent less and were lighter than the Schwinn models they were designed to compete with.  From my limited experience with them, they clattered in that same clunky way as department store bikes like Columbia and Murray.  

The early Vistas had the same components as Columbias of the time:  Huret Allvit  derailleurs and steel one-piece cranks-- which were also found on Schwinns-- and cheap sidepull brakes.  Around 1972 or 1973, however, Vista began to equip their "Cavalier" and "Esquire" with their own brand of derailleur.  At least, that's what a lot of people thought.

Made-in-Japan Vista 15 speed bike with 64 cm(!) frame, circa 1975

In-the-know cyclists, however, soon realized that Vista had simply rebadged the SunTour GT rear and Spirt front derailleurs, and the ratcheted "power" shift levers bolted onto the handlebar stem.  Folks like me who had the chance to ride those Esquires and Cavaliers simply couldn't believe how much easier, and more accurately, their gears shifted than the ones on our Continentals and Varsities--or even on some of the more expensive European racing bikes.

Made-in-Japan Vista Elite with Shimano 600 components, circa 1978

That move probably did as much as anything to popularize the Vista brand and to keep sales even after the Bike Boom died down.  Some time around 1975 or so, Vista began to offer a line of "professional" bikes made for them in Japan.  Those bikes resembled the mid-level ten (and later twelve) speed bikes from Takara, Azuki and other Japanese marques, with their lugged frames made out of high-tensile (and, in a few cases, straight-gauge chrome-moly) steel tubing outfitted with components from SunTour, Shimano, Sakae Ringyo,Takagi and other well-known manufacturers from the Land of the Rising Sun. By the early '80's, Vista was even offering an "aero" model with flattened chrome-moly frame tubes, early "deep V" rims from Araya and Shimano's 600 EX "aero" components.

Head badge from Japanese-made Vista

Those Japanese-made Vistas were good, but mostly indistinguishable from other bikes from the by-then-more-familiar Japanese brands.  Thus, thirteen- and fourteen-year-olds who bought American-made Vistas weren't, if they were still riding, buying Japanese-made Vistas when they went to college and beyond.  Instead, they purchased ten- (or, by that time, twelve-) speeds from such iconic brands of the 1970s and '80s as Fuji, Miyata, Motobecane and Raleigh.

The Vista brand seems to have disappeared some time around 1984 or 1985--a couple of years after those "aero" bikes came out.  By that time, Schwinn was making a series of missteps that would cost much of the market share it once enjoyed.  (As an example, the company's management acted as if mountain bikes were just a passing fad at a time when other manufacturers were making their mark in that discipline.)  And the quality of other American mass-produced bikes (with a few exceptions like Trek), which wasn't very good to begin with, fell off precipitously and, within a few years, nearly all production shifted offshore.

Brazed-On Amnesia

When I first became serious about cycling--around the time that the early '70's Bike Boom was gathering steam--almost no bikes available in the US had brazed-on bosses for water bottle cages or shift levers/cable guides, let alone for racks. Most bikes didn't even have fitments for brake cables:  Most high--performance bikes of the time, like my Peugeot PX-10, had their rear brake cables clamped to the top tube.

Even the custom bike builders of the time didn't braze such fittings onto their frames.  All of the guidebooks of the time told us that brazing weakened the metal at the point at which it was brazed and therefore risked cracking or breakage.

A few years later, when I was working in a bike shop, I did see a couple of brazed-on shift lever bosses that broke off their frames.  But those were on cheaper bikes built from thin-walled tubing.   

Of course, at that time, I --like most novitiate American cyclists--did not know about the French constructeurs or British custom builders, who had been brazing bits onto their frames at least since the 1920's.  Actually, some of those builders--most notably Rene Herse--actually made racks, water bottle cages and such an integral part of the frames they built.

And, apparently, some not-so-elite pre-Bike Boom bikes had brazed-on bits, like this circa 1964 Schwinn Varsity I saw parked around the corner from my apartment:

Those levers, like the derailleurs on the bike, were made by Huret for Schwinn.  Those levers--like so many other French parts of the time--had style, if not engineering.  (Installing or removing cables--which you did often if you had a Huret Allvit derailleur like the one on the bike in the photo--was a project unto itself.)  As for the brazed-on bosses:  I think Schwinn was able to do them because the tubing on the frame was thicker than that of most other ten-speeds.

A couple of years later, the Varsity--as well as the Continental and Super Sport--would come equipped with massive stem-mounted shift levers.  And their top-of the line bike, the hand-made Paramount, would offer nary a brazed-on fitting.

A Rescued Bike

Today my far-flung adventures (ha, ha) took me through downtown Brooklyn and DUMBO.  They included a stop at Recycle-A-Bicycle, where I donated a rack I wasn't using after I decided that whatever I'd get for it wasn't worth the effort of putting it on Craig's List or eBay.

While at RAB, a seemingly-friendly woman named Holly brought in this specimen:

It's a Schwinn Varsity from, I believe, 1967. (Check out the Paramount prices!)  At least, that's what the "sky blue" paint and white panel on the seat tube seem to indicate.  Also, it has shift levers on the stem, and 1967 is the first year Varsities came with such a configuration.  The frame is really the same as the one on my Collegiate, except that it's built for 27 inch instead of 26 inch wheels.

Holly said she found it in the trash by the curbside.  That's not surprising, given the condition of the paint.  She was able to ride the bike from her neighborhood to RAB but, she said, she had no idea of whether the bike is salvageable.  

The handlebar was badly bent, which she noticed.  However, my quick glance at the bike could find nothing else that couldn't be fixed.  The wheels spun:  If I were to keep the bike for myself, I'd probably clean and re-grease the hubs.  The tires will probably, and the tubes will almost certainly, need replacing.  But the front wheel doesn't need more than a touch-up truing.  The rear seemed to need a bit more work, but looked usable.

If nothing else, the bike will make a useful local errand or short-commute vehicle.  Some tanks are lighter than it; I might actually classify it as an "ironclad" warship.  (If a Civil War historian takes it, he or she should call it "The Monitor".)  But it's lasted more than four decades; with proper maintenance, it might last that much longer.


When folks like Holly bring in bikes like that, I'm really glad that programs like Recycle-A-Bicycle exist.  After all, seeing a bike like this one turned into someone's coffee crate or bagel bomber is better than seeing it end up in a landfill.

Urban Bicycle Anthropology--Or Is It Archaelogy?

There are bikes on encounters, it seems, only when they are locked to sign posts or parking meters in large cities.

Talk about a Frankenbike!  This is a Schwinn Varsity, circa 1974-75.  I base those dates on the color and the fact that Schwinn was offering it around that time, which was when I first started to work in bicycle shops.


That a Schwinn Varsity or Continental of that vintage is being used for a city transport bike is not unusual.  I had a continental, and I recall what a tank it was.  And, it was a "lightweight" bike:  The Varsity was, if I recall correctly, about three or four pounds heavier.


Well, someone lightened this Varsity.  It has alloy rims and Continental Gator Skin tires. (I know those tires are not lightweights, but compared to the original equipment, they're helium balloons. )  And those bars--they alone save about two pounds over the original equipment!  I know they're not the originals because they're alloy.  That alone would have halved the original weight, but then most of the bar was cut away.

Is the bike's owner a messenger? Can't be a hipster:  The bike still has its derailleurs.  They're the originals, in fact:  Schwinn-branded Huret Allvit on the rear and a Schwinn-branded Huret on the front.  What's really strange, though, are the shifters.  Yes, they are also the originals, but stem-mounted shifters really look strange with those bars--and brake levers.


And on this bike we find the ultimate weight-saving measure:  no saddle.  Yes, that has to be at least two pounds of avoirdupois excised from the ensemble.  Believe it or not, I've actually seen cyclists ride without saddles.  The thing is, nobody believes you when you tell them that's how you lost your virginity!


Anyway...I concede the seat might have been stolen. However, when one sees a parked bike without a seat (but with a seatpost remaining in the frame), it's usually starting to decay, and is often missing other parts.  So I'm wondering whether the bike's owner removed the seat when he/she parked the bike.  Usually, though, when cyclists remove their seats, they take the seat post, too, because their bikes have quick release clamps.  Whoever removed the saddle of from this Varsity must have used a tool of some sort.  Given that the bike has good tires and fancy brake levers, perhaps the seat is a Brooks or something similar.


Ok,I'll admit it:  I must be a real bike geek if I can look at a parked bike and speculate as much as I have about how it might have come to be what it is now.