No Longer On Guard Against Chainguards

Until recently, chainguards were anathema to most "serious" cyclists.  I think it had to do with the fact that the first derailleur-equipped bikes most Americans saw, in the early days of this country's bike boom, lacked that amenity. 

Chain guard on 1975 Schwinn Varsity

Or, it had a disc--like the one in the above photo- that was about as good at keeping your clothes out of the chain as fishnet fenders would be at keeping you from getting sprayed during a monsoon.

More than a few cyclists and mechanics--including the late Tom Cuthbertson, author of Anybody's Bike Book--actually advised removing your chainguard and, if you rode with long pants, using cuffs or bands.

For more than three decades, I rode bikes without chainguards.  In fact, the idea of installing one on any of my bikes scarcely even crossed my mind. 

Then, about a decade ago, there was a cosmic convergence.  All right, maybe it wasn't quite cosmic, but it was unexpected and perhaps serendipitous for makers and sellers of chainguards.  Around that time, a demand for "practical" bikes--including Dutch-style, English three-speed and Parisian porteurs--emerged along with an interest in vintage bicycles.  Folks like Chris Kulczyki, the founder of Velo Orange started rummaging warehouses, first in North America, then in Europe, looking for beautiful old chain guards like this one:

Mercier chain guard

I love that one, and others that have cut-out patterns and such.  I equally love the ones that are simply shaped and finished to fit with the overall aesthetic of the bike, like the one on this 1958 Motobecane Pantin Ladies' bike:

Pantin is the community on the outskirts of Paris where, for decades, Motobecane made its bicycles and mopeds.  It seems fitting as a model name for a city bike that's elegant enough for the most urbane boulevardier.  Such a person probably would not dream of riding without a chainguard! 


 

Mystery Bike

Yesterday I saw this bike parked on Greenpoint Avenue:

Of course, I loved the color and was fascinated with the way the twin-lateral tubes curved from the seat tube to the rear dropout. It's not the first time I've seen such a configuration.  Still, something told me there was something strange about the bike.

The Huret Allvit derailleur on the rear was more than likely original equipment.  To paraphrase Frank Berto, it shifts poorly forever.  The crankset also looked as if it had never been removed from the bike, although I suspect that, at some point, a chainguard was.

The shift lever was a plastic model from Simplex.  Perhaps the derailleur was a replacement after all. Or maybe the shifter was.  It was interesting, though, to see it on a brazed-on boss.  But what I saw in front of it:

Or at the bottom bracket:

Perhaps my initial belief that this bike was French was wrong after all.  Almost any Gallic ladies' or mixte bike of the era from which this bike appeared to be (the early 1970's or earlier) that wasn't made by a constructeur had lugs.  Perhaps I was looking at a cleverly-disguised masterpiece.

Not surprisingly, the wheels and pedals were replacements. So, too, was the rear brake, I suspect:

Nearly all modern caliper brakes are mounted in a hole through the front fork crown or a bridge connecting the rear stays. At one time, calipers that clamped like the one in the photo were common.  Later, they were used on bikes that originally were equipped with cantilever or rod brakes, which usually weren't drilled.  But no one, it seems, made such brakes after the mid-1960's or thereabouts.

Stickers from Transportation Alternatives and other cycling-related organizations indicate that this bike is, or had been, ridden regularly.  I wonder whether its rider has or had any idea of what he or she is or was riding.

Women on Ladies' Bikes--or Ladies on Women's Bikes?

Wouldn't you know it?  Today's "Lovely Bicycle" post shows three images of women on or with bicycles--specifically, transportation/commuter bikes.  Some of the comments that follow the post deal with the question of what a "ladies'"or "women's" bike is.   Some hate those terms; others, including Velouria, the blog's author, think that such terms denote distinctions that are more meaningful and useful than "unisex" or related terms.  Plus, "ladie's bike" or "women's bike" is simply shorter than the alternatives.




So...I read her post and the comments that followed.  Next thing you know, I'm seeing images of women on bikes everywhere I look--at least, everywhere in cyberspace.  Even though I was researching an entirely unrelated topic, I kept on finding images like this one:

Now there's a way to shake up the Miss America contest.  Instead of the swimsuit struts and talent charades, why not have the contestants ride "ladies'" bikes down the Atlantic City boardwalk.  Of course, the young women would have to wear dresses or skirt outfits.  I mean, wouldn't you rather  that your country was represented by someone who can pedal with grace and style instead of some other contestant who can only sing pale imitations of songs that were popular when your mother was born?


Somehow, though, I don't think Grace or Sally from Louis Malle's Atlantic City would ride a bike down the boardwalk. And even if they did, I don't think they'd convince very many other Americans to do the same.