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?

Before Carbon Fiber: Plastic Bicycle Components

Early in the 1970's Bike Boom, boatloads of ten-speeds from Raleigh, Peugeot, Motobecane, Dawes and other European makers came to these shores.  You may have had one of those bikes; perhaps you have one now. 

If it was made before 1975, chances are that its derailleur was made by Campagnolo, Huret or Simplex.  The latter company supplied the derailleurs for most Peugeots until the early 1980's, as well as for some models from the other bike-makers I've mentioned.  My Peugeot PX-10 came with the Simplex Criterium; the entry-level U-08 came with the company's "Prestige" mechanism.

Simplex Criteriun

In design and function, the Criterium and Prestige were the same.  The Prestige had a red-badged parallelogram while the Criterium had silver badge and cute red plugs in the pivot bolts.  Most interestingly, though, the parallelogram and knuckles on the Prestige were made entirely of Delrin plastic, while the Criterium's parallelogram had a steel reinforcement.

Simplex Prstige

Because of the materials used, Simplex derailleurs were often perceived to be "cheap" or of low-quality.  Actually, given the standards of what was available at the time, they shifted reasonably well--not as well as anything SunTour made, but at least as well as most of Campagnolo's offerings.  The chief objection to those plastic Simplex derailleurs was, aside from aesthetics, their durability.  When I worked in bike shops, I saw many on which the plastic had worn at the pivots and joints, leaving them with sloppy shifting.  In all fairness, though, I must admit that I didn't see as many broken ones as I expected, and I think stories of Prestiges or even Criteriums that exploded under normal pedaling pressure were exaggerated.

From the time the first all-plastic (except for the cage plates and bolts) Simplex derailleurs were introduced in 1962, increasing amounts of metal were added to the higher-level models.  Lucien Juy probably figured that racers and tourists rode more miles and under worse conditions than recreational riders did, so more durable derailleurs were necessary for them.  (While a Prestige would wrap up the amount of chain necessary for a triple crankset, it wasn't torsionally rigid enough to last very long in such use.)  By 1975, he had come full-circle:  His "Super LJ" was constructed entirely of alloy and intended to compete with the Campagnolo Nuovo Record, Huret Jubilee, SunTour Cyclone and other top derailleurs of the time.

(This state of affairs may have made Simplex the only component manufacturer whose professional-level wares were heavier than its entry-level stuff, or anything in between!)

Before carbon-fiber frames gained widespread popularity, Simplex derailleurs were among the few components to be made of plastic.  Another is one that, unless you were riding during the '80's, or have a bike from that period, might surprise you.

Stronglight cranks and headsets came on many of the same bikes that included Simplex derailleurs.  I never had any problems with the ones that came with my PX-10E; in fact, I have a soft spot for the Stronglight "93" crankset.  (The only reason, I believe, it's not popular today is its proprietary bolt circle of 122mm.)  The headset was ugly but at least it was smooth-running, sturdy and didn't require any special tools.

Stronglight A-9

Later, Stronglight made what some regard to be the best headset, ever: the A9. (The "Delta" is the A-9 with more seals and more smoothly curved cups.) I had one on my Mondonico Criterium; it was as well-made as anything I've ridden.  Many 30-year-old A9s are still in use today and people pay premium prices for them on eBay.  It's the headset I'd still be using if it weren't for Chris King.

Stronglight B-10

Although it was the lightest headset available at the time (and lighter than most headsets available today), someone though a lighter version was necessary.  So was born the B10, which shared the A9's tapered roller bearings but replaced the alloy cups with ones made out of--you guessed it--Delrin.

(The B10 sometimes bore the name of Tour de France champion Bernard Hinault on its locknut.)

I never used a B10 myself, and I never installed one. However, it came on some of Trek's touring machines during the 1980s, as well as other bikes.  Not surprisingly, they ran as smoothly as the A9s--at least for a while.  Accounts vary on how long.  But because roller bearing headsets are tightened with more force than ball-bearing headsets, owing to the tolerances of the roller bearings, tightening compresses the plastic cups more than it does to alloy ones.  From my limited experiences of working on B10s, I found they were more difficult to adjust so that they turned smoothly without play. 

I heard a few accounts of cups that broke.  If they were true, I wonder how many were the result of failure during a ride or of over-tightening. Or both.

B10s, apparently, were not in production for very long.  On the other hand, Simplex made plastic derailleurs for more than two decades.  That could be the reason why we see more extant Simplexes than B10s.  That, and the fact that during the Boom, many people bought ten-speed bikes, rode them once or twice and relegated them to basements and garages for decades afterward.  Then again, the same could be said for some of the Treks that came with plastic headsets:  People bought them for tours they planned but never did, or they actually did their planned tours and, afterward, their lives took them away from cycling.  Or thet simply found they didn't like bicycle touring.

In any event, it seems that--unless you count carbon bikes and parts as plastic--there have been few, if any, attempts to render major bicycle parts in the material during the past three decades or so.  Could it be that carbon bikes are really a disincentive for parts manufacturers to make plastic components and accessories to be used on non-carbon bikes?  Or is it--as rumors have it--that plastic derailleurs, headsets and other parts really disintegrate under you as you ride, or break at the worst possible moment?