My Morning Commute: Only In 1984. Only From Cannondale.

On my way to work today, I saw only one other cyclist.  I wasn't surprised because this morning was the coldest we've had since February.  And it was windy, which I really noticed when crossing the RFK Bridge.  

That cyclist, though, was riding a bike older than he is.  That, in itself, is not so unusual, as I often see people--particularly the young--on machines passed on to them by parents or older siblings, or found in basements, garages, barns or yard sales.

Some of those bikes could fetch money on eBay as "vintage" items.  In a way, that's very funny to me, because I remember when they were the sorts of things you'd see every day.  Most were good for the sorts of rides and riders they were designed for, but we never thought they were exceptional in any way.

But the rider I saw today was pedaling a rig that was unusual when it was made--and simply strange today:

Cannondale made its first mountain bike in 1984.  It's the one in the photo above--and the one ridden by the fellow I saw today.  Unfortunately, I didn't get to take a photo of the bike.  But, from my brief glimpse of it, I don't think it had been ridden very much.  

When that bike was made, mountain bikes were still new to most people who didn't live in northern California or, perhaps, upper New England.  It seems that those who were involved in the then-evolving sport of mountain biking hadn't developed any notions about what mountain bikes were "supposed" to be.  

At least, their notions seemed fluid compared to those of us who were road bikers, even those as young as I was:  While the designs of certain components had evolved and refined, a good road racing, touring or sport-touring bike had more or less the same design and elements (lugged steel frames with a certain range of geometries) they'd had for about two or three generations before us.  

On the other hand, the first mass-marketed mountain bike--the Specialized Stumpjumper-- began production only three years earlier.  Its design was a kind of cross-breed of the custom mountain bikes Tom Ritchey, Gary Fisher and a few other pioneers had been making for about half a decade.  Although the first shipment of 125 Stumpjumpers (built in Japan) sold out in six days and subsequent runs sold even more quickly, the Stumpjumper would not set the standard for mountain-bike design--at least, not for very long. 

The truth was that even folks like Ritchey, Fisher and Chris Chance were still figuring out how to design their bikes, which had begun with Schwinn cruisers retrofitted with multiple gears and caliper brakes.  By the time the Stumpjumper came along, they and folks like Charlie Kelly were building lugged or fillet-brazed frames of chrome-moly tubing with long wheelbases--which, really, were lighter (yet stronger) versions of the old cruisers.  

According to the information I've come across, all of the early mountain bike frames--including that of the Stumpjumper--were built from steel.  That is no surprise when you consider that about 99 percent of bikes were still being fabricated from that material. The only difference was that the lighter, more expensive bikes used alloy steels--maganese molybdenum (Reynolds 531) or chrome molybdenum (Columbus and Tange), while cheaper, heavier bikes used carbon steel.  

Although bikes were made from it as early as the 1890s, aluminum was little-used as a frame material until the mid-1970s, when the "screwed and glued" Alan frames were built.  A few years later, Gary Klein designed an aluminum frame with wide-diameter tubing to make it stiffer.  In 1982--the year after the Stumpjumper first saw the light of day--Cannondale made the first mass-produced aluminum bicycles.

Those first Cannondales were road bicycles--racing, touring and sport models.  If you rode one of those early Cannondales, as I did, you know that their design has changed quite a bit.  So, I think it's fair to say that if Cannondale was still figuring out how to make aluminum road bikes, they were really starting from "square one" with that first mountain bike.  But it's also fair to say that no one else knew how to design aluminum mountain bikes, for--at least, from the information I've gathered--no one else, not even Klein, was building them at that time.

For all I know, the fellow I saw today on an early Cannondale mountain bike may have no idea about the history I've just described.  He probably just knows that he's riding a funny-looking bike.  Maybe he doesn't care.

Still, I can't help but to wonder who came up with the idea of designing a bike around a 24 inch rear wheel with a 26 inch front. As fluid as ideas about mountain bikes were at that time,  Cannondale was probably the only bike maker that could get away with doing such a thing.  And 1984 was probably the only year they could have done it.

Vera's And Helene's Cousin?

And here I was, thinking that I rode the only Mercians with Velo Orange Porteur handlebars in New York City.

On my way home, I wandered, as I often do, through Greenpoint, Brooklyn.  It's just across the Pulaski Bridge from Long Island City, Queens--which, in turn, is just upstream (on the East River) from Astoria, where I live.

I was spinning the gears on Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear, on Greenpoint Avenue, one of the neighborhood's main throughfares.  (I won't use the word "drag" because I don't want to create unintended connotations!)  Out of the corner of my eye, I tawt I taw, not a puddy tat, but an interesting bike.

My instincts proved correct.  Indeed, parked on the street was a Mercian.  Of course, I will find a bike interesting just because it's a Mercian, but this one--in spite of its classic panel scheme--would prove to be unique.

I wish a car weren't parked right next to it and that I had something more suited to close-range photography than my cell phone. I did the best I could by squeezing myself between the car and bike and doing my best imitation of Gumby.  At least I captured, I think, something of the bike's look, with its pewter-gray paint and its creme anglaise-coloured panels.  

The grips, I think, made those Porteur bars look like they belonged on the bike.  If I were building it, I would have gone with a honey or brown Brooks saddle, though I don't think the black seat looks bad.  I'm guessing that whoever put the bike together had that saddle on hand, possibly from another bike he or she had ridden.

One nice thing about the bike was that it looks as if it wasn't put together merely for looks or style.  For one thing, it is a Mercian, so it is built for a nice ride. (Why do you think I own four of them?)  The frame is constructed of a Reynolds 531 "Super Tube" set.  Reynolds 531, like other top-quality bicycle tubing, was made in different thicknesses.  The "Super Tube" sets combined different thicknesses. I suspect that, as the frame is a small size, lighter tubes were used on the top tube and possibly the seat tube. The components are all first-rate:  mainly Shimano, including Dura Ace hubs and rear derailleur. 

I was tempted to leave a note on the bike, in the hopes that its owner would contact me.  That is a risky thing to do here in New York (and, I suspect, in many other places).  So all I can do is hope that the bike's owner sees this post and contacts me.  I would love to know more about the bike--and, possibly, whoever rides it.  Perhaps he or she would like to meet Vera or Helene, my Mercian mixtes with Velo Orange Porteur bars!

Her Long-Lost Brother

It's probably a good thing I haven't named the Schwinn Collegiate I got just before Christmas.  Something happened that might affect the way she sees herself--which, in turn, could influence the name I choose for her.

You see, as she was made in 1966 in Schwinn's old Chicago factory, she has lots and lots of siblings she's never met.  Some of them may be lost to this world.  But it probably had been years, or even decades, since she'd met any of them.

Did you notice the verb tense shift in the last sentence of the previous paragraph?  There's a reason for it:

I asked, and she believes that this Collegiate in the same, similarly-faded, shade of violet she wears, is her older brother. 

There's a good reason for that:  According to the Schwinn Lightweight Data Book, the men's (diamond-frame) version of the Collegiate came with its shifter on the top tube in 1965.

Like most Schwinn shifters and derailleurs of the time, it was made by Huret and rebranded as "Schwinn Sprint".

I apologize for the poor angles of these photos:  I took them while standing between the bike and a parked car!

Anyway, the placement of the shift lever posed some interesting problems in routing cable:

There are also other things that make this bike specific to its time period.  Take a look at the engraving on the rear, which Weinmann made for Schwinn in Switzerland:

I mean, who does anything like that anymore?

One other interesting feature--albeit one that doesn't affect the bike's functionality--is the chrome "cap" on the front fork:

My Collegiate doesn't have it.  Those caps were removable, so it may be that someone lost it after overhauling the headset.  Or, the fork may have been a replacement, though it doesn't seem likely as the paint on the fork is chipped and faded in much the same way as the frame.

From what I could see, only three parts of "Big Brother" had been replaced:  the seat (which had a Huffy emblem on it) and the rear wheel (although the five-speed freewheel looked like it could have been the original) and the rear tire.

On the other hand, my Collegiate has original Schwinn parts from that period, though the rear wheel has a Bendix coaster brake and Schwinn rim (which would have been original equipment on the "Speedster," which had the same frame and wheel size as the Collegiate.  

It's a good thing I wasn't in a hurry when I spotted my Collegiate's long-lost brother.  As you can imagine,they had a lot to talk about!

The Return Of The Fade?

The other day, while making preparations for the storm that's raining down on us, I spotted this:

Of course, it's not the kind of bike I'll ever ride.  And it's certainly not the sort of paint job I'd ever get on one of my bikes.  However, I think it's not bad:  The yellow main tubes and seat stay "fade" into a maroonish red on the chainstay, rear dropouts and front fork.  The seat and handgrips more or less match the maroon paint.

Could this be a signal that "fade" finishes are coming back?  This one isn't so bad.  If more had been like this, "fades" would not have their awful reputation and association with the '90's they now have.