Barelli: Raising The Bar On The Hill

Throughout my life, I've read various books, poems and other works of literature that brought me into other worlds.  Among them are, of course, Shakespeare's plays and Charlotte Bronte's Villette (which I liked even better than Wuthering Heights). Currently, I'm reading Colson Whitehead's Nickel Boys, which brings me into yet another world I can scarcely imagine.

While it wasn't a work of great literature, in its own way the Palo Alto Bicycle catalogue did something similar for me.  Its pages were filled with images and descriptions of equipment even more exotic--and less affordable--than Campagnolo's.  At that time, I probably could've counted, on one hand, the number of Campy-equipped bikes ridden by people I actually knew.  So, in perusing the pages of PAB, I found myself imagining, not only the components themselves, but the folks who rode (or simply bought) them.

Among those parts were pedals that, to this day, I have not seen in "real life" but recently came across on eBay when I was looking for another part. In the mid-1970s, it seemed that every other cyclist with an engineering background, or simply a lathe, was trying to improve in one way or another in what they were spinning in races or club rides.  Among those folks were Bob Reedy, the folks at East Rochester Tool and Die--and Geoff Chapman.

A member of Cambridge (Town & County) Cycle Club in the UK, Chapman owned an engineering firm in nearby Bar Hill.   He would use a near-anagram of that name, with an Italian touch,  for the brand of his products:  Barelli.

At that time, the North American Bike Boom had crested.  Many of classic British builders were still producing their legendary frames, but the country's bike component industry was in steep decline, in part  because some manufacturers didn't update their designs or factory equipment.  As an example, Williams, which made some of those pencil-thin cottered cranksets found on classic British lightweights, finally produced a cotterless crankset--years after Campagnolo, Stronglight, Specialites TA and other companies introduced theirs.   And Sturmey-Archer, which was all but synonymous with internally-geared hubs, was losing not only because derailleurs had become more popular, but also because the quality of its products was slipping. (SA 3-speed hubs made from about the mid-80s until 2000, when the company went into receivership and was bought by SunRace, are all but unrideable.)  

So it was interesting, to say the least, that someone like Chapman would not only try to improve upon the design of what he was riding, but would also produce something worthy, quality-wise, of a Jack Taylor, Bob Jackson, Mercian, Hetchins or Ron Cooper frame.

Barelli Supreme

Barelli B-10

He seems to have produced two models: the Supreme and B10.  The former looks like an amalgam of platform pedals like the Lyotard Berthet and traditional quill pedals.  The latter took a shoe cleat that fit into the body and was secured with a traditional toe clip and strap.  (Shoe cleats of that time typically had a slot that fit onto the pedal cage.)  The B10, perhaps not surprisingly, seems to have had some following among track riders because it had such a secure hold which some described as "impossible to get out of."

That might be the reason why Barelli didn't share the same fate as Reedy and ERTD, whose designs were used by companies like SunTour. While Reedy and ERTD were really just lighter and more aerodynamic versions of traditional pedals (albeit with sealed bearings and a nicer finishes), Barellis--especially the B10--might have been just too radical.  Or the difficulty of dismounting B10s might have reminded them of the Cinelli M71, often nicknamed the "suicide" pedal.

So, while I'd like to see some Barellis in "real life," and might buy a pair if I were more of a collector (or simply had more money), it's probably a good thing I couldn't afford them when they appeared in the Palo Alto Bicycle catalogue.

Shifting

These days, shift levers are curved pieces of metal with cylinders at one end.  The shapes vary somewhat, and the ones attached to brake levers (e.g., Campagnolo Ergo and Shimano STI) are longer.  But, for the most part, they don't call attention to themselves. 

Probably the most elegant shifters ever made were the "teardrop" retrofriction levers Simplex made during the 1970's and '80's:

Next in my beauty contest are the Superbe Pro levers SunTour produced during the 1980's"

Some might say they look even better with the gum-rubber hoods SunTour offered for a time:

I'd probably want those hoods if I were going to install the levers on Vera, my British Racing Green Miss Mercian.

Campagnolo Record levers of that era also had a fairly understated design:

unless some bike maker decided to re-fashion them:

Now, some would argue that an Olmo of that era simply wouldn't be an Olmo without those shifters.  I wouldn't disagree, though I've never owned an Olmo.

I've never owned a Schwinn Sting-Ray, either.  That's probably a good thing, considering the shifter that came with it:

I can't help but to wonder whether it has something to do with the decline in birth rates.   Supposedly, the shifter "clicked" or "indexed".  It's hard to imagine how that was accomplished with the derailleur that came with the bike:  a Schwinn-branded ("Schwinn Approved") Huret Allvit.

In a way, though, I can understand why that shifter was used on Sting-Rays:  the bike's designer was invoking the spirit (or something) of "muscle cars" from that time.  I guess some kid could push or pull that lever and imagine himself on the track at Daytona or something.

But there's no such excuse for this lever, which was made for adult bikes:

If you think somebody cannibalized a Simplex "Prestige" derailleur and glued parts of it to the tops of these lever, you'd be right--sort of. After all, these levers were made by Simplex around the same time they were making all-plastic derailleurs.

And then there are these levers that dare not speak their name:

The "333" on the sticker means that Shimano made them, probably during the 1960's or early 1970's.  SunTour's components were sub-branded "888".  How these companies came up with those numerical designations, I don't know.

One way you can tell it's from that period is the red adjuster knobs and trim.  Both Shimano and SunTour--as well as a couple of other less well-known Japanese manufacturers--made derailleurs and other components with red trim or even small parts. That practice seems to have lasted only a few years, and no one seems to know what inspired it.  The "rising sun" of the Japanese flag, perhaps.

I wonder whether it will work with Campagnolo cassettes. ;-)