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!

You're Definitely Not Square If You Use This Cage!

If you were riding before the 1990s, chances are that you used a water bottle cage that looked something like this:

You might still be carrying your libations in such a cage.  There's no reason why you shouldn't.  That you and other cyclists are still riding with such cages is a testimony to their design.

If you have been riding with such a cage for so long, you probably know its design was based on this:

Specialites TA Ref 215

Made by Specialites TA of France, it holds a distinction very few bicycle accessories--and only a few components--can claim:  It was the choice of racers, tourists, "rough stuff" and recreational riders alike.  Whether you pedaled your Cinelli in the peloton, your Herse over the hills or your Mercian through the moors, you used the TA Ref. 215 cage--or, later, the alloy 417. (The 215 was made from chromed steel.)  

Ref. 213

For a time, TA's Ref. 213 cage was also popular until handlebar-mounted cages fell out of favor.  And, in the 1970s, the single-clamp 216 became popular with cyclists whose frames didn't include brazed-on bosses for bottle cages.

Ref 216

I thought I knew the Specialties TA line well.  (After all, when you get to be my age, and cycle for as long as I've been riding, there are times when you think you've seen it all!)  But, in hunting for small parts and accessories for the Trek I'm building, I came across this:

Ref. 218

I have to admit that I have never seen one in person.  I tried to find more information about it, but all I could find was a listing on the Blackbird website.

The eBay listing describes the cage--Ref 218-- as having "an unusual rectangular shape."  Apparently, it was made to fit the Ref. 220 and 222 "randonneur" water bottles, which look like old-fashioned milk bottles rendered in blue anodized aluminum rather than glass. 



Ref. 222 (1 liter; Ref 220 was the .75 liter version)

Someone--Fred "Fritz" Kuhn of Kopp's Cycles, I believe--told me that TA stopped making aluminum bottles because they would oxidize on the inside and poison their users.  I wonder, though, what it was like to use bottles in that shape.  How easy or difficult were they to pull out, or push back in, the cage?

The seller says that modern Fiji water bottles fit into those cages nicely.  I'll take his/her word, though I generally don't buy Fiji, or any other water transported from the ends of the Earth.   I feel certain, however, that the 218 is bomb-proof, as all of the other TA cages were!

When An Iris Doesn't Fit: Twofish

All four of my Mercians have a few things in common besides, well, being Mercians.  For example, they all have Phil Wood hubs and bottom brackets, Zefal HPX pumps, Brooks saddles and at least one part from Nitto.  In addition, all of them have Ruth Works bags, made by Ely Rodriguez, attached to them.

They also have King headsets.  Arielle, Tosca, Helene and Vera are also have another King in common:  water bottle cages, specifically the Iris model.  I have been very happy with them:  They are easy to use, hold the bottle well, don't bend and haven't shown any signs of breaking or even wear.  And, yes, I like the way they look.

Only recently have I discovered a "problem" with King Iris cages.  Actually, it would not have been a problem if I hadn't stumbled across the 1981 Trek I've been working on.  That frame doesn't have braze-on mounts for water bottle cages.  Most Bike Boom-era ten-speeds, even high-quality ones like my Romic and Peugeot PX-10, didn't have them. Around the time my Trek was made, a good bike was as likely as not  to have brazed-on water bottle mounts.

Most water bottle cages of that time, whether the high-quality ones from Specialites TA, Blackburn or REG, had tabs for clamps (which sometimes were supplied with the cages) as well as mounting holes.  On the other hand, many modern cages--like my Irises--do not have the provision for clamps and are made only for braze-ons.

I know that adapters are available.  Basically, they are plastic bands or zip-ties cinched with a plastic boss that contains a nut into which the cage is bolted.  I have never tried them, so for all I know, they may work just fine.  But I don't think they're worth $15.  Also, they just wouldn't look right on the Trek (or, for that matter, any other decent bike).

So, the obvious solution is to use a classic or classic-style cage with clamps.  Turns out, I had clamps but not, to my surprise, cages I could use with them.  So, I searched for some vintage or vintage-style cages.  In particular, I would have loved to find the single-clamp model TA made for a few years.  Back in the day, they cost about $4 or $5 new.  The ones I found on eBay were listed for $50 or more, and some of them looked as if they were fished out of the nearest bayou.  And other classic steel cages--or even the old Blackburn alloy ones and the near-clones made by Minoura and other companies--were expensive and some, shall we say, looked as if they had been more than used.  

Finally, I came across something that looks like a stainless steel version of those early Blackburn cages:


The welds on it are very clean and the finish is nice.  It weighs about twice as much as the Iris, or almost any other modern stainless steel cage:  The manufacturer lists a weight of 96 grams.  Then again, almost any vintage steel cage weighs at least that much--and if I were so concerned about weight, I wouldn't be putting my effort into a bike like the Trek 412, would I?

The cage is made in the USA by Twofish.  They make a similar cage with an attachment that allows it to be strapped onto a frame.  People seem to like it, but I would rather go with the more traditional clamp setup, especially on a vintage bike.

Perhaps the best part of all is the price.  When I bought my  Iris cages, I paid $14 to $17 each. To me, such prices are entirely reasonable for good-quality stainless steel cages, especially ones made in the USA.  And Ron Andrews makes those cages (as well as the titanium version) by hand in his Durango,Colorado garage.

Now, I don't know whether equally colorful individuals or little elves in Sequoia trees weld the Twofish cages.  But they are made in this country, in California:  one of the highest-wage states.  So imagine my delight in finding this cage for $10.50.

Unlike most modern cages, this one has "tabs" that will accommodate vintage-style metal water bottle clamps.  The ones I have will fit just fine.

And I think it will look right, and fine, on the Trek.  That is what matters most, doesn't it?

THE Tape Wasn't Number 1: A Pump Was. Or It Claimed To Be, Anyway!

Shopping online is like going to swap meets:  You find all sorts of things you never thought you'd see again.  That can be reassuring, especially if you remember something you used decades ago but have not encountered since and no one else seems to remember.  At least you can reassure yourself that your mind isn't doing the things you feared it would do when you got old--or that you're not having a flashback of something you first encountered in a haze of cannabis or the mists of Jack Daniels.

Last week, while surfing eBay, I found (and bought) a bike part that hasn't been made in decades, in its original packaging, for a reasonable price.  It's one of those things I might use if I actually go ahead with a project I'm contemplating.  If I find that I have too little time or disposable income--or simply feel too lazy--to carry out that project, I will probably hold on to that part I bought:  I might have use for it later. (Really!)  Also, it's something I used and liked in my youth, and the quality of it is very good.

When I decided to buy that part, I looked at the seller's website to see whether or not he had anything I wanted or needed.  Nothing else in his inventory (from a bike shop that closed down) fits either category, at least right now. But I did see something that brought back a memory or two:

In Philadelphia, there was a company called Skethea.  I don't know whether they aspired to be another Cannondale or Rhode Gear.  They seem to have made (or, at least marketed) only two products.  Both of them had names that proclaimed their superiority.  One of them is, the tape (or THE Tape) in the photo above.

Now, if you were around in the '70's, you might recall (if you can recall anything ;-)) that suede was very popular.  At least, stuff that looked like suede was en vogue.  Most things that purported to be suede weren't.  One example is a coat I had, which was made of cloth with a nappy finish.  Another is THE Tape.

I bought a set of it, in blue (of course!), to replace the plastic tape I shredded on my Nishiki International. I saw the same tape, in red, on another bike and thought it would look--and, I hoped, feel--good on my handlebars.

THE Tape was just a vinyl wrap, thicker than most, with a suede-like finish.  It could be had in a number of different colors, including two other shades of blue (Mine was a cobalt-ish hue.) as well as other shades of red and green, a few other colors and, of course, white and black.  As I recall, it didn't cost much more than plastic or even cloth tape.  And, because it was stretchy, it was easy to wrap.

If you've ever ridden a suede saddle, you know that, at first, it's more difficult to slide forward or back, as you might when you change hand positions on your handlebar, on it than on a seat with a smooth finish.  Likewise, it was a little more difficult to change hand positions (for example, to slide up or down the "hook" of the bar when climbing or descending) on THE Tape than it was on smooth or textured vinyl, or even cloth, tape.  

That little bit of extra force I needed to slide my hands along the bars revealed another flaw of THE Tape:  It had no adhesive backing, so the tape shifted and revealed gaps of bare metal.  The good news was that the lack of adhesive made it easier to un- and re-wrap.  The bad news:  The extra force needed to slide up and down on the bars made the tape stretch and, eventually, break.  

And normal use wore the nappy finish away.  So, after a few months you were left with "bald" discolored tape that soon disintegrated.  And, oh, yeah, it didn't look as nice as it did when you applied it.

I am aware of one other product made by Skethea, the company that manufactured THE Tape.  The Number 1 Pump (Yes, that was its name!) came out at around the same time as THE Tape:  about a year or two after Zefal introduced its HP Pump.  You still see lots of those Zefals in use today. But, unless you are around my age, you've probably never seen a Number 1 Pump.  I saw a few "back in the day", but I never owned one myself.

It was, I believe, an attempt to combine the best features of the Zefal HP  and Silca Impero pump.  So it had a thumb-lock valve that could be converted between Presta and Schraeder, and a mechanism that enabled the pump to bring high-pressure tires up to full pressure.  The Zefal had those qualities but was heavier than the Silca and required a clip.  The Number 1 Pump, therefore, put--or tried to put--the best Zefal HP features into a plastic body, like Silca's, that fit on the frame without a clip.

In an apparent attempt to distinguish it visually from the Zefal HP, Silca Impero and any other pump, the Number 1 had a clear plastic body.  Yes, you read that right.  So, you could see all those wonderful inner workings that the clever folks at Skethea dreamed up.  

I once had a watch like that.  For a while, thought it was pretty cool to see all those gears and pinions at work.  But after a while, the novelty wore off and I admitted to myself that watches with opaque faces and numerals in contrasting colors were much easier to read.  I stopped wearing the see-through watch, and I think I left it behind in a move.

But at least that watch held up to downpours I encountered while cycling and hiking, as well as some other forces of nature and my own recklessness and stupidity. So have my Zefal pumps.   I don't think the Number 1 Pump would have survived such things.  For that matter, I don't think the Number 1 Pump survived much of anything:  Within a couple of years of its introduction, it seems to have disappeared.  

I wish I could find a photo of that pump--or any information about Skethea.  They seem to have been one of those many small bike-accessories companies that sprang up in the US during the Bike Boom.  Cannondale is one of the few that have survived though, like most other manufacturers, they are making their bags (as well as their bikes) abroad.  A few other companies made it to the '80s and beyond; apparently, Skethea was not one of them.  A 1980 Bike Warehouse (now Bike Nashbar) catalogue lists The Tape; I can find no later reference to it.

If I ever find an image of a Number 1 Pump--or information about what happened to Skethea--I will post it.

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.

Memory, In This Light

Have you ever tried to describe something you owned or used in your past and, no matter how hard you try, nobody has any idea of what you're talking about?

It seems that the ones who might have owned or used it have no memory of it, and younger people can't imagine it or think you're making it up.  Or, if you're about my age, they think you're just "losing it".

That happened to me a while back.  On my way home from a ride, I stopped in a shop I'd never visited before.  I got to chatting with the owner, who showed me some parts and accessories he accumulated over the years.  They were commonplace when they came his way; now they're considered vintage.

Among those wares was a Japanese generator headlight from, probably, the 1960's.   It was shaped something like the "bullet" lamps that are becoming popular once again.  What was really interesting about it, though, was that it had two differently-sized bulbs and a switch at the top.  He explained that as you built up speed, you powered the smaller "low beam" and, when you got up to your "cruising speed", you flipped the switch to the larger "high beam" light.

That light triggered a memory from my childhood.  The old Royce-Union three-speed my grandfather bought for me about three years before I was tall enough to ride it (and, sadly, only a few months before he died) had a very similar generator headlamp.  Mine also had two lights, I explained, but the larger one was a fluorescent tube.  At slow speeds, you rode by the light of the smaller incandescent bulb, but as you got up to your "cruising altitude", if you will, you flicked the switch for the fluorescent light.

The shop's owner, who's older than I am, says he never saw such a thing and couldn't imagine it.  Still, I couldn't get it out of my mind.  So, I tried Googling all sorts of search terms, including "fluorescent bicycle light", "dual bicycle lights",  "bicycle generator light made in Japan",  "bicycle lights 1960's" and "bicycle lights 1970's", but came up empty.

I actually started to wonder whether I imagined it--or whether some shadowy operative implanted a fabricated memory into my mind to drive me crazy. (No, I'm not a conspiracy theorist; I just know that the world is against me! ;-)) Then a name started to float through my mind:  Kaddomax.  Could that have been the brand name?  I tried several permutations of the spelling, including "cadomax", "kadamax" and, finally, "Kadomax."  I hit paydirt with that last one:

Someone in Greece is selling a pristine set that includes the headlamp, generator and taillight--just as I remember them--in a box that seems only slightly shopworn.    The asking price:  $200, plus $35 for shipping from the Hellenic Republic.

I'd love to know how the seller got his/her hands on that set, and where it was kept for the past four decades.

Of course, were I to buy such a set--or even if I found one in less virginal condition--I would not use it on my daily commuter.  Today's LED lights are lighter in weight, and less complicated and finicky, than the older lights.  I know that LEDs can be made to work with generators, but if I wanted a generator for my daily rider, I'd go with a modern one, as it would be more efficient.

But if I had some restoration project, or simply wanted to put together something unique, I'd buy the Kadomax. Heck, it's tempting, just for the memories it would evoke and preserve.