If It's On Ebay, It May Not Actually Be Legendary

Many of us have gone to eBay in search of some long-out-of-production bike part or accessory--or in the hope of scoring a great deal on something current.  Or, perhaps, we are just looking for something no one else has.

I mean, think of the bragging rights you could have had with a corn flake shaped like the state of Illinois. Nine years ago, the owner of a trivia website bought it--for $1350.  

$1350 for one corn flake! Just think:  For that price, you could've gotten pancakes--yes, pancakes--at the Opus One Restaurant in the Radisson Blu Hotel of Manchester, England.  Of course, they weren't any old pancakes: They were layered with lobster, caviar and truffles, and finished with a Dom Perignon Rose hollandaise sauce.  

But it's not shaped like the state of Illinois, you protest.  All right, then, you probably wouldn't have been interested in some of the other unique items sold on eBay--like a Casey Anthony mask.  Or a hockey team.  

Here's my favorite:  The Meaning Of Life.  That went for a winning bid of $3.26.

Now, since this is a blog about cycling, I'm supposed to stick to the weird bicycle-related stuff, right?  Well, I didn't find anything like Hugo Koblet's comb--or the, um, chronographs used by the Festina team in the 1998 Tour.

But I did find a velodrome.  Well, sort of.  

Here is your one in a lifetime chance to own the one and only legendary* Bomberdome.

At the end of the listing, the asterisk is explained thusly:  may not actually be legendary.  

The "Bomberdome" is based on the so-called Wall of Death, which is billed as a velodrome but really looks (to me, anyway) more like an oval boardwalk built at a 45-degree angle to the ground.  Apparently, the original was built as a circus attraction during the 1930s.  

Five years ago, a UK group that calls itself the Ministry of Bicycles built the "Bomberdome" and showcased it at events all over the country.  Although it can be disassembled, it can't be transported in your SUV or van.  No, it needs its own trailer, included in the sale.  Although the MoB describes that trailer as "VERY dubious", they are quick to add that it "as yet has never let us down".

As I write, there have been 30 bids on the dome and the price is up to 285 GBP.  There are still 4 hours and 21 days left in the auction.  Still, you might get it cheaply enough that you can afford a backyard big enough for it.  You might even find it---where else?--on eBay!

If you want to ride the Bomberdome, you might want to fuel up.  Pancakes?  Corn flakes?

A Water Bottle Cage Decaleur? From Specialites TA?

I know I'm working on a project--or doing my usual late-winter/early- spring maintenance and overhauls--when I'm spending way too much time on eBay.

That's when I start to find all sorts of weird and interesting stuff. To wit:

The seller, in Austria, says it's a French-made, possibly by Specialites TA. I couldn't find any reference to it in TA brochures or catalogues I've located on-line. Given that the cage is French, and looks interesting and well-made, it's easy to understand why the seller might think it's from TA.

The shape of it is echoed, at least somewhat, in the beautiful Nitto R cage.  But the Nitto cage is not made to be used with clamps. Perhaps the cage I saw on eBay isn't, either. That leads me to wonder whether whoever made the cage also made the mechanism that attaches it to the clamps--and, according to the seller, allows it to be easily removed from the clamps.  Or was it made by whoever bought the cage and installed it on his or her bike?

Hmm...Were water-bottle cages being lifted from parked bikes?  I can't think of another reason for a mechanism like that. A decaleur for water bottle cages?  What a concept!

By Any Other Name

You most likely have seen this freewheel, if only in passing:

It's Shimano's Tourney (MF-TX20) model, found on many lower-priced hybrid, cruiser and "comfort" bikes.  It's made in China, like so many other bicycle components (and consumer products) on the market today. 

Given that it is made in China, I wouldn't be surprised to learn that it's made in the same factory as other low-priced freewheels sold under other brand names.  In fact, I wouldn't even be surprised to find out that some freewheel sold under another name is mechanically identical to Shimano's.

Even so, I was surprised to see this:

I had to glance at it a second time before I realized it wasn't a Shimano.  I mean, how much more like "Shimano" could the logo on the largest cog be?

An eBay listing for it doesn't mention its brand name: Shimeng.  The title of that listing, however, says "For Shimano."

Hmm...How close can you come to saying that your product is Shimano without saying it?

For what it's worth (pun intended), the Shimeng freewheel's $9.89 price includes shipping from Malaysia.  On the other hand, "abaxo" is selling the Shimano freewheel for $15.87.  To be fair, that price includes shipping--from one of their US warehouses.

How To Turn Your Touring Bike Into A Racer

In one of my early posts, I talked about a Romic Sport Touring bicycle I had in my youth.  For a time, it was my only bike, so I did my "fast" riding, touring and even my errands on it.

"Fast" riding included everything from actual races to informal contests with riding buddies that ended with one of us buying the other beer and/or lunch.  Sometimes the later were part of vigorous club rides; other times, they were training rides that turned into impromptu competitions.  "Touring" could mean anything from a day or weekend ride to a longer trip with panniers and a handlebar bag.  

The Romic had a geometry and build that made it suitable for many different kinds of riding:  rather like Arielle, my Mercian Audax.  I did my first European bike tour on it, with the first pair of wheels I had built for me:  Campagnolo Nuovo Tipo hubs, Super Champion 58 clincher rims and Robergel Sport spokes.  I also had a pair of tubular (sew-up) wheels with those same hubs and Super Champion Arc en Ciel tubular rims, which I used for racing and "fast" rides (the planned ones, anyway!).  

In addition to switching wheels, I would  move the adjustment screws on the dropouts:

If I wanted to ride faster, I would move the screws inward to bring the wheel closer to shorten the wheelbase.

Now, many new frames come with vertical dropouts

which don't allow for any adjustment.  So, if you have a sport touring bike and want to shorten the wheelbase, you're "shitouttaluck" as we used to say in my old neighborhood.

Or are you?  Apparently, someone came up with a way to shorten his wheelbase:

At least, that's how an e-Bay seller in described his 1978 Motobecane Grand Jubile's encounter with a sewer grate:

"Good condition for its age but frame suffered an impact (hitting a sewer grating) which caused the wheelbase to be shortened slightly."

Hmm...Maybe the next time someone steals a pedal or wheel or saddle from one of my parked bikes, I'll tell myself that the thief did me a favor by lightening my bike.  I'm sure that will help the bike (and me) to go faster! 

This Made The World A Little Smaller

It is indeed a small world.  (You can add the "after all" if you like.)

And, yes, technology makes it smaller all the time.  

Case in point:  eBay.

I have bought and sold all sort of things, most of them bike-related, from and to people in Canada, England, France, Germany, Belgium, Italy,the Czech Republic, Slovenia,Japan, China and Korea as well as places in the United States I'd never heard of until I encountered them on what's been called "the world's largest garage sale".

Occasionally the interaction involves more than just the sale or purchase of something.  I have had exchanges about people's names (including one with a customer who just happened to have the same name as one of my favorite poets), hometowns or some aspect of cycling or local culture.

My latest such interaction, though, is one of the most interesting.

I sold a nice Nitto stem that, I finally admitted to myself, I'd probably never use.  It was not the right size for a current project.  Perhaps one day the "right" bike or situation would come along--but when?

I kept it mainly because it's a Nitto (Each of my bikes except my LeTour have at least one item from that company on it!) and because it's interesting. It's one of a brief run of TIG-welded chrome-moly stems Nitto made in the early '90's.  Of course, being a Nitto, the welds were much cleaner, neater and  less bulky and blotchy than on other welded stems of that time--including those of pricey after-market stems like Syncros and Control Tech.  The stem I sold is probably one of the few welded stems that wouldn't look out of place on a vintage road  bike.  

The fellow who bought the stem e-mailed me.  He said he received the stem and left nice feedback.  Then this: "I noticed the name on the shipping label.  Are you the gal with all of the Mercians?"

It is a small world indeed!  

P.S.  This is not the first time eBay has "outed" me.  A couple of years ago, a fellow bicycle blogger (whom I read regularly) also connected my eBay ID with me when he saw my name above the return address on the package I sent.  

Reflective Tape--Or Ruban Conspicuitif?

As a college instructor in New York, I teach, and have taught, many students whose first language is not English.  Some were and are wonderful writers and spoke the language very well, if with an accent.  Others, however, couldn't read much more than a telephone directory in the language of a country and city to which they try so hard to adapt.

Perhaps the most interesting of the non-native speakers I've encountered are the ones who can make themselves understood most of the time, but express what they are trying to say in ways no native speaker ever would.  As often as not, they are thinking in their native languages, which they translate literally, sometimes with the aid of electronic devices.  Sometimes this results in their using words that actually exist in the English language but you would rarely, if ever, hear in conversation.

I came across such a word in, of all places, an eBay listing for "conspicuity" tape.  Most of us in the English-speaking world would refer to it as "reflective" tape.  

"Conspicuity" Tapes

The seller is in China.  Now, I am not familiar with any of that country's languages, but I am guessing that whatever character they have in Mandarin or Cantonese or Fujian for what the seller was trying to say would translate, at least literally, into "conspicuity."  Now, perhaps you are more educated or literate than I am, but I feel confident that it's not a word you use very often.  I can't recall ever having used it at all.

To be fair, the word "reflective" can also mean "contemplative", and the word's literal translation into the seller's native language might reflect (no pun intended) that meaning more closely.  Also, to be fair,the seller did use the words "reflective," "safety" and "warning" in the listing title.  I guess he or she was trying to cover all bases, as the words "tape," "film" and "sticker" are also included.  

That last part  also interesting (at least to me) because I know that adhesive tapes--like hadlebar wraps as well as first-aid tapes--are referred to as "rubans adhesifs"--adhesive bands--in French.  On the other hand, the Velox "rim tape" you use on your Mavic rims is a "fond de jante"--rim base, or foundation.

Should I ask the seller of "conspicuity" tape whether he or she has "rim tape"?  

Your Secret Vice Is 20 Years Old Today!

Admit it:  It's the site you go to when nobody's looking.

It's the site you click on to in the confines of your cubicle, when you think the boss is out to lunch.

It's the site where, every time you get your credit card bill, you're shocked at how much you've spent.

What site is it?

No, it's not Sexy Asian Ladies or Hot Firefighters.  And it's not the offshore casino site.

You know what I'm talking about:  eBay, the world's secret vice.

From TrueNorth

Today it turned 20 years old.  It began when Pierre Omidyar wanted to find out what would happen if everyone in  the world had access to a single global marketplace.  

Over Labor Day weekend in 1995, he wrote the code for an auction website on which he listed a broken lazer pointer he was going to throw away.  That lazer pointer, of course, became the very first item sold on AuctionWeb, as eBay was known for its first two years.  

(Omidyar couldn't believe someone would buy a broken lazer pointer. He sent a message to the buyer reminding him that the pointer was indeed non-functioning.  The buyer replied that he understood and was, in fact, a collector of used lazer pointers.  Now that's a strange hobby!)

Within a week of AuctionWeb's launch, a pair of autographed Marky Mark underwear sold for $400.  Other items sold on the site during that week included a Superman metal lunchbox for $22 and a Toyota Tercel for $3200.

I tried to, but couldn't, find out what was the first bicycle-related item sold on the site.  I suspect it was sold not too long after AuctionWeb was launced.  After all, AuctionWeb/eBay started in the San Francisco Bay area, which was arguably the most cycle-centric area of the United States before Portland stole some of its thunder.  Also, eBay seems as if it was made for cyclists, as so many of us are selling our old bikes, parts and accessories as we acquire new ones, or are looking for replacement parts--or stylish jerseys and bags-- that are no longer made.

EBay has been called the world's largest garage sale.  For cyclists, it's the world's biggest swap meet.  

Now I'm going to look for a pair of neon yellow triathlon handlebars.

I Hate It So Much I'd Pay You To Take It. Buy It!

From the time I became a serious cyclist, I always heard other cyclists--and bike shop employees--say, "Saddles are a personal thing."  Then they would insist that whatever saddles they rode would be right for you.

A saddle indeed the most personal choice most cyclists make.  A rider's anatomical quirks as well as riding style (which can be just as quirky) are among the factors that go into choosing what one will sit on while riding.  For the lucky cyclist, the first saddle he or she tries will be the right one.  For the less fortunate, choosing a saddle will be a process of trial and error.

Given what I've mentioned, perhaps it's not surprising that cyclists are more passionate--and, sometimes, defensive--about their chosen saddle than about any other component they pick.  And riders are more vehement in expressing dislike about seats they don't like than about, say, shifters that don't work out for them.

Very few cyclists, though, have expressed their hatred of a saddle quite like this:

Well, I can tell you exactly how many miles I've put on this saddle:  1203 over 14 days.  I know this because having had several leather Brooks saddles previously and loving every one of them, I didn't give a second thought to throwing it on right before a tour.  I'm an idiot and I know better.  Well, 14 days was long enough to develop a truly vitriolic hatred for this saddle.  I loathe this saddle.  I have never loathed a saddle as much as this one.  And I've used some truly horrific saddles in my day.  None compare.

I would pay you to take this thing off my hands.

Anyhow, the Cambium C15 is the Swallow-style (ie, same dimensions) version of the non-leather Cambium series and while it was billed as black, it's more of a brown.  Perhaps it faded as a result of all of the scorn I've heaped upon it, perhaps it was the sun or maybe it was always that way.  This was part of the initial C15 run, not the more recent version.  It's otherwise in good shape.  Everything is rebuildable in any event.

It should go without saying, but it won't, no returns on this one.

See my other auctions, I'm selling a few others.

The above is an eBay listing.  I found it very funny that the lister, in trying to sell a saddle, says, "I would pay you to take this thing off my hands".

What's even funnier is that, as I write this, the saddle has fourteen bids and a price of $61.65, with thee days and four hours remaining in the auction. 

Hmm...Maybe the seller is operating on the Second Avenue Deli principle.  You know:  People love the chicken soup and other delicacies at SAD, but they'd be disappointed if the waiters weren't rude and sarcastic.  In fact, some people go there precisely because the servers are so inhospitable. 

So, perhaps, the next time I sell something on eBay, I should say how much I hated it and that I wouldn't wish it on an enemy.  Very interesting.


 

This Post Is "Rare" And "Vintage"

It seems that every other bike, part or accessory advertised on eBay or Criagslist is “vintage” or “rare”.

A "rare" "vintage" bicycle

 What, exactly, is “vintage”?  Is it the same as “antique”?

According to the wine industry, “vintage” is the wine-making season or the gathering of grapes for the purpose.  So, every year in which wine is made has a vintage.   Years with great wines have great vintages; from that, “vintage” took on the connotation of a wine for the ages.

How does a bicycle, part or accessory fit any of those definitions?  I guess any model year could be considered a bike “vintage”.  From that, I suppose a particularly good year for a bike model might be called “vintage”.

So, one of last year’s models might be considered “vintage”.  But an unexceptional bike from long ago wouldn’t get that appellation.

What about “rare”?  It sometimes seems that anything that hasn’t been made in a while is called “rare”—even a Schwinn Varsity, Peugeot U-08 or PX-10, Raleigh Grand Prix, Motobecane Mirage or Fuji S-10S (or it successor, the S-12S).  Each of those is a fine bike, in its own way.  If you want one, it won’t take you long to find it:  Millions of each were made, and many are still around.  In fact, it would take just a bit of patience to come across one in excellent condition:  During the ‘70’s Bike Boom, many people bought bikes because it was the thing to do, rode once or twice and decided cycling wasn’t for them, and kept their bike in a basement or garage.

That is not to say that you shouldn’t buy one of those bikes.  The PX-10, in particular, is worth getting or keeping, whether you want to preserve or restore it or re-purpose it as, say, a light-load touring bike.   (Check out what the late Sheldon Brown did with his.)  Each of the other bikes I’ve mentioned will serve some purpose:  The Varsity is a tank; the Mirage and S-10S give stable but nimble rides and the Raleighs are, well, Raleighs.

If you want one of those bikes, or any like them, look around and don’t buy the first one you see.  Also, think about how much you can (or want to) spend.  If something is described as “rare” and you’ve seen one like it somewhere else (or it was made within the past few decades or by a manufacturer that’s still making bikes)—or if it’s called “vintage”—the price is inflated. You can probably find something like it for considerably less money in a thrift store (outside of hip neighborhoods in large cities), on a bike classified site or publication, or even in a bike shop that sells used bikes. 

Buying from the bike shop may be your best option, especially if you can’t or don’t want to do repairs.  You’ll pay more, initially, than you would in Goodwill or to someone who’s listing on a bike site, but you’ll probably get a bike that’s ready to ride.  (Occasionally, a shop will sell something in “as is” condition, but shops that specialize in, or simply sell a lot of, used bikes will usually fix it before selling it.)  On the other hand, if you get something “for a song” from a yard sale or flea market, you may have to spend almost as much as the cost of the bike from the shop to make it rideable—or even to restore it as a wall hanging.  This is especially true if you pay someone else to do the work for you.

One thing I’ve noticed is that shops that sell used bikes tend not to deal in hyperbole.  Very often, such shops are owned and operated by mechanics.  They tend to be quiet, unassuming people—like the folks who run or staff most thrift shops and many flea markets.  You won’t hear them tossing around words like “rare” and “vintage”.  And you won’t see those words very often in bike listings from actual cyclists.

From Blogger To Advisor: A Reader Asks About A Mercian

If you blog about something for long enough, are you an expert on it?

(If you use "blog" as a verb, are you creative or just someone who didn't listen when your English teachers said, "Don't verb nouns!")?

Well, one of my regular readers asked for my opinion about a frame listed on eBay--a Mercian, of course.

Now, I won't tell anyone not to buy a Mercian unless it's the wrong size or has damage that can't be repaired.  The frame in question doesn't seem to fit in the latter category:

My dear reader says it's "a little on the small side" but rideable.  Some people don't mind, or even prefer, a frame that's a bit smaller than what's normally recommended for them.  There are legitimate reasons for that, and I wouldn't try to talk someone out of buying such a bike--especially if it's not available any other size.  (If you can't get the right size, too small is definitely better than too big.) Of course, my reader could get a new Mercian in the right size.  But, I think the reader likes the look--or, perhaps the spirit--of a vintage bike.  Or it may just be that the frame in question could be had for a good deal less money than a new one.

Speaking of which:  My reader wondered whether the price was "on the premium side."  Well, I told him, perhaps it's possible to find a similar frame for less.  But that might mean waiting, possibly for a good long while.   After all, there are only so many old Mercians--or any other old classic frames--being sold at any given moment.

I told my reader that if I were looking for another bike and it were closer to my size, I'd buy the frame in question.  I'd buy it even if I were simply looking for an interesting restoration project:  It looks like the frame has the old British-made TDC headset and, possibly, bottom bracket.  If I had the time and money to do a resto, I'd build it up with British-made parts like GB handlebars, stem and brakes, and possibly even a Benelux or Cyclo derailleur.  

I don't think my reader has any such plans.  I think I gave the best advice I could--although, in my heart of hearts, I think a Mercian is always worth it.

Never Again--Until Now, Of Course

In an earlier post, I talked about the futility (for me, anyway) of saying “Never again!”

I built up a Trek hybrid frame from about 1990 and used it as an errand/”beater” bike for a few weeks before deciding it was just a little too big for me and giving it away.  I said I wasn’t going to do anything like that again.

Did some famous person say all resolutions are temporary?  Or is that just some rationale I’ve devised for breaking vows I make?

 

Or, perhaps, I’m just in the habit of making promises to myself that I simply can’t keep.  You know, like the one that I was going to live as a cisgender heterosexual male.  Oh, well.

Anyway…You’ve probably guessed where this is going.  Another bike found its way to me.  Yes, really, it did…just like that kitten I brought home as a kid followed me home.

Actually, I found it at a yard sale in Brooklyn—not far from the neighborhood in which I grew up.  And the owner made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.  Well, I could have, but I don’t have that much resolve.  What can I say?

So for a princely sum of ten bucks I found myself in possession of a Schwinn LeTour manufactured in October 1975.

The frame itself had barely a scratch and seemed to be in perfect alignment. However, the rims and spokes were rusty, perhaps from sitting in a garage or basement.  Those parts, and the others—except for the tires and seat—were original equipment.

I took everything off the bike, as I would have done to overhaul it.  Then I unlaced the wheels, tossed the rims and spokes and gave the tires, seat and handlebars to Recycle-A-Bicycle.

As the bike probably hadn’t been ridden much, the other parts were in very good condition.  So I decided to list them on eBay, figuring that they’d be good for “period” restorations.

In my listings, I made sure to mention that the parts were original equipment on a ’75 LeTour.   A guy in Tennessee bought the derailleurs, shift levers, cranks and bottom bracket; other buyers bought single parts.  The brake levers—complete with the “suicide” extensions—went to a fellow in Switzerland!

While I didn’t make a fortune from those parts, they netted me enough money to buy a pair of wheels.  I know, they’re kind of strange:  the kind of “Deep V” rims you might find on a “hipster fixie”, with a coaster brake on the rear.  But I figure the rims will take a beating and the coaster brake won’t require a lot of maintenance.  Plus, the bike is going to be used for errands and such, and locked in all manner of places, so I wasn’t looking to assemble a technological marvel.

Those wheels were all I’d need to buy. (After assembling the bike, I bought the Wald baskets.)  The other parts came off other bikes or were acquired for projects I never pursued.  And I got the fenders in a swap.  Someone had drilled them for a custom fitting but decided he didn’t want steel fenders.  The way I fitted them to the LeTour is inelegant, but somehow right.  Anyway, it works.

I’m not going to sell or give this one away.  At least, not for a while, anyway. ;-)