In Suspense--Or In Thrall To Aesthetics?

Sometimes I think the '90's were the end of an era:  when you could care about aesthetics and still buy a high-end road racing bicycle.

Today, you can get a beautiful frame from a builder like Mercian or any number of other custom makers.  But even though it can be sleek and relatively light, it's likely to be heavier and less aerodynamic than a new racing bike.  Those gorgeous frames with their beautiful lugs or filet-brazed joints and lustrous paint jobs are most likely to be steel, whether from Reynolds, Columbus or some other maker, but most racers are now astride frames made of carbon fiber.  Although I can appreciate the lightness and stiffness of carbon fiber frames, I know that their lifespan is nowhere near that of most good steel, titanium or aluminum frames.  Also, their Darth Vader shapes and surfaces are too often plastered with cartoony or just plain creepy graphics.

But during that last "golden era" for road bikes, two seemingly-disparate groups of cyclists seemed to abandon any sense of velocepedic voluptuousness.  According to Eben Weiss' latest article in Outside magazine, those riders were mountain bikers--especially of the downhill variety--and triathlon competitors.   As he notes, mountain biking and triathlon racing  came into their own as disciplines at roughly the same time, more or less independent of the prevailing cycling cultures (racing, touring, track, club riding).  Although many mountain riders came from road riding, they tended to be younger and not as bound to the prevailing traditions and conventions of riding.  Then there were those mountain riders who, like most triathloners, had little or no previous experience with cycling and were therefore even less wed to ideas about what bikes should look or ride like.

One result of that disdain for bicycle tradition was modern suspension systems.  One irony is that those who developed it for mountain bikes thought they were doing something new and revolutionary when, in fact, bicycle suspension  has been around for almost as long as bicycles themselves.  The chief question seemed to be whether to suspend the rider or the bike itself:  The former would offer more comfort and would, therefore, keep the rider in better control of the bike. The latter, on the other hand, would make the bike itself more stable at high speeds and in rough conditions: what would encounter in a downhill or on technical singletrack.

One of the earliest--and, perhaps, still most widely-used--forms of suspension is the sprung saddle, which would fall into the category of suspending the rider. Later, balloon-tired bikes from Schwinn, Columbia and other American manufacturers came with large bars and springs connected to the handlebars and front forks.  How much shock they actually absorbed, I don't know.  I get the feeling they were added, like the ones on the "Krate" and "Chopper" bikes of the '60's and '70's, so that kids could pretend that their bikes were scaled-down motorcycles. 

Around the same time as those wannabe Harleys were made, Dan Henry's (of the Arrows fame) rigged up a Reynolds 531 fork with springs which, he said, allowed him to ride the lightest rims and tubular tires even in the roughest conditions.  But the '70's and '80's saw little, if any, experimentation with, let alone manufacture of, suspended bikes or parts.

That all changed when the first Rock Shox forks and Girvin Flex Stems were introduced in 1989.  The latter defied all notions of the graceful "gooseneck" in mirror-polished or milky silver, and Rock Shox looked nothing like those curved or tapered blades seen on classic road bikes.  Then, it seemed, all sense of aesthetics went out the window--unless your idea of art is a sex toy or something that would render a man incapable of bringing any new cyclists into this world--with the Softride.

I must admit I never tried Softride:  Even though I was leaner and lighter than I am now, I was leery of mounting anything that didn't have support from below. (Read that as you will.)  Weiss rode one recently, three decades after its introduction, and found it to be "more subtle" than he expected though, he pointed out, he could have been just as, and more elegantly, cushioned from road and trail shock with a leather saddle or wide tires.  Subtract the "diving board" and Girvin Flex stem, he notes, and one is left with a rigid mountain bike like the ones riders had been riding before. 

If I had a couple of barns or garages, I'd probably acquire a Soft Ride to complete the collection I'd have.  But even if I liked its suspension qualities, I'm not sure how much I'd ride it:  I'm still too wedded to my vision of a beautiful bicycle.  There are some things I just don't want to be caught dead on. 

The Wooden '90's

Until the 1950's, track racers commonly used wooden rims.  They are still made today by Cherchi Ghisallo in Italy.  However, they are not allowed in races because, while they are light and give a comfortable ride, they can shatter upon impact and release a cloud of sharp, jagged projectiles.  

There are a few enthusiasts who will ride nothing but wooden rims.  Those cyclists feel that the increased cost and maintenance, as well as the fragility, of those rims is worth the improved comfort and performance.  They can only be ridden with tubular (sew-up) tires and without rim brakes.

What even many of those wooden-rim enthusiasts don't realize is that at the turn from the 19th to the 20th Centuries, entire bicycles were made of wood. Well, the frames and the parts that didn't have bearings were, anyway.  I understand that some of those bikes even had wooden saddles!

Now Ojira Yoshima, a student in the Craft & Industrial Design department of Musashino Art University in Tokyo, has revived and updated the concept:

I find it interesting that his frame design is at least somewhat similar to that of Softride bikes of the 1990's. He designed his wheels like the Tri-Spoke wheels made by Spinergy, Zipp and other companies during that same period. The aerobars could also have come from the Indie Rock era.

I wonder what the ride is like.  

A Softshot Slingride

Today I saw someone riding a bike I hadn't seen in a long time.  Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera with me and I couldn't get my cell phone out of my bag quickly enough.  Fortunately, it was easy enough to find a photo of it on the web:

Production of Softride bicycles seems to have begun during the late 1980's.  Apparently, they're still being made.  Although I haven't seen one on the road recently, I understand they're still popular with triathaloners. 


Softride bicycles appeared around the same time that Rock Shox forks first came onto the market, and other then-radical bicycle designs were being developed. 


Nearly all other bikes with suspension are designed to suspend the bike.  This makes sense when you realize that modern suspension systems were first developed mainly for mountain bikes.  Someone who's hopping over creeks or "jumping" from a rock face doesn't expect to be comfortable upon landing.  However, he or she wants the bike to remain as stable as possible, as this is the best way to keep the bike moving forward and prevent an accident.  


At least, I came to that conclusion from my own experiences of off-road riding. 


On the other hand, according to the designers of Softride, their stated goal was to "suspend the rider, not the bike."  Now, I'll admit that my time on a Softride was very limited and I thought it was uncomfortably bouncy.  However, other riders seemed to master it, or simply became accustomed to the sensation.  If they did, I can see why some liked it:  The shocks incurred on the road aren't nearly as great as one experiences in the woods and mountains.  Plus, road riders tend to spend more time and ride longer distances on their bikes.  So some might like a cushier bike. And, I suppose triathaloners might like the comfort of such a bike because they have to switch, sometimes abruptly, from the swimming or running segment to the cycling part of the race.


Around the same time Softride bikes made their appearance, an old riding buddy took to both the roads on a bike like this one:

This was yet another approach to suspension.  My old riding buddy, an engineering school dropout, once explained the principle behind it for me. I've since forgotten how it's supposed to work--or maybe I never understood it in the first place.  But he swore by Slingshots:  He had a mountain as well as a road version. 



I rode his bikes a few times.  While I wasn't entirely convinced by them, they made more sense to me than Softrides ever did.  


It's been at least a dozen years since I've ridden a Slingshot (or, for that matter, a Softride).  So, please forgive me if my memory is faulty and my description of the ride is less-than-detailed.  

People who have driven the Citroen GS or its descendants remark upon the fluid tautness of its suspension.  I have only ridden in such a car, but I could feel the difference between it and the "springier" suspension of American cars. The Slingshot's suspension felt something like the hydropneumatic system of a Citroen, on steroids.  


I might actually buy a Slingshot if I were going to have a barn full of bikes. (They're still being made, as they were back in the '90's, in Grand Rapids, Michigan.) But being limited to four bikes (still more than most people have, I know!), I am leery about paying full price for such a radical bike.


If I were a collector, I'd probably have at least one Slingshot and a Softride.  What I'd really like, though, is for Slingshot and Softride to collaborate on a mixte frame!