A Time Capsule In A Local Bike Shop

In this blog, I have often mentioned Bicycle Habitat.  It's a fine shop (well, now they're a series of shops) and I have a relationship with them that goes back decades, to the time I was working for American Youth Hostels and Habitat was around the corner.  They've remained a "go-to" source for me, and their chief mechanic and partner, Hal Ruzal, turned me on to Mercians.

I also patronize a shop in my neighborhood:  Tony's, right in the heart of the still-Greek part of Astoria.  Actually, I learned about them years ago, when I was an artist-in-residence at St. Mary's Hospital for Children and a chain snapped on my way home.

Recently, I bought a couple of things from them.  I got to talking with the owner, who is friendly and helpful.  Although he sells current-model Cannondales and Treks, he has a trove of older parts.  He probably wasn't joking when he said some of them have been there since the shop opened in the early '70's.

I spotted one such piece of equipment in his showcase:  a pair of Shimano bar-end shifters from the '70's.  "I haven't seen those in a while," I remarked.

"I can show you something else you probably haven't seen in a long time."

That was an understatement, to say the least.

I think that I've seen one other set of Simplex bar-end shifters in my life.  Certainly, I haven't seen them in four decades, or close to it.  

Most cyclists who rode bar-end shifters during the '70's and '80's chose SunTour's.  I even saw a few otherwise all-Campagnolo bikes with "Bar Cons," and with good reason:  Sun Tour's ratcheting mechanism made them much smoother and more reliable than other companies' bar-end shifters.  To this day, they are probably still the best-selling bar end shifter of all time:  Many cyclists, even some who aren't "retro-grouches," seek them out on eBay and other places.

If my own observations are indicative of wider trends, I'd say that just about everybody who didn't use SunTour's bar end shifters in those days opted for Shimano which, while not as pleasant to use as SunTour's, were still better than the ones made by other companies--including Campagnolo.

Simplex and Huret bar ends (which are often believed to have been made in the same factory) relied on friction to keep the lever in place when it wasn't being shifted.  So did Campagnolo's bar ends, as well as most other shift levers made for derailleurs.  Friction is fine on downtube shifters, but makes for balkier shifting with the extra cable length required by bar-end shifters.

Simplex, however, seemed to believe it had a solution to the problem with its demultiplicateur.  It clamps to the down tube, near the bottom bracket--in the same spot a cable guide would have been placed.  While most guides for rear derailleur cables were (and are) "tunnels" through which one cable runs continuously, the demultiplicateur was a bell crank-like device to which two lengths of cable--one forward to the shift levers, the other rearward to the derailleur--were attached to pivot points with differing radii.   This increased the mechanical advantage, which made for easier and smoother (if not necessarily more accurate) shifts.  A few constructeurs and custom builders brazed them onto their frames, most often tandems, which required cables longer than some of the rides people take.

Based on my limited experience with the demultiplicateur,  I'd say it did what it was intended to do, and did it well. It made shifting those old Simplex and Huret derailleurs (as well as Campy derailleurs that didn't have "Record" or "Gran Sport" in their names) tolerable, even with bar-end shifters.  But shops usually tried to dissuade customers from them:  For one thing, they were never easy to come by.  But, more important (at least from their point of view), they were more complicated than other cable-routing systems, which meant that mechanics hated installing them and customers balked at the extra cost (for the extra time needed) to install them.

I was tempted to make an offer on those shifters and their demultipilicateur, which were still in the packaging from nearly half a century ago.  But I encouraged Tony to list them, unless he wanted to keep them:  Someone out there is restoring a French bike and would want, if not the shifters, then at least the demultiplicateur.  Or, I'm sure, some collector would want them.

I asked Tony whether he had any Simplex downtube shifters.  (Of course, I'm thinking of the retrofriction levers.)  He doesn't think he has any, or any other vintage downtube levers, he said.  But those Simplex bar-ends were certainly a find!  Even if you're not interested in vintage bike equipment, people like Tony are fun and interesting to talk with just because they've been involved with bikes for so long. Oh, and I shared my reminisces about Greece with him.  He assured me that my itinerary was a good one for a first visit!

Without Cotters, But Not Cotterless?

The French firm Specialites TA is probably best-known for its Pro Vis 5 crankset, often called the "Cyclotouriste" (though TA itself never used that name). Even if you've never ridden one, you've almost surely seen it:

It may well be the most versatile crank ever made:  The outer chainring, which bolts on to the inner bolt circle (the one closest to the center of the crank), were available in  sizes from 40 to 64 teeth.  The middle and inner rings, which bolted to the outer ring, were available in sizes from 26 to 50.  You could bolt one or two rings to the outer ring--or ride just the outer ring as a single.  So it may well be the only crankset that ever was truly designed to be used as a single, double or triple.  (On Vera, my Mercian mixte, I use a Shimano Deore MT-60 triple crank by substituting a BBG bashguard for the outer chainring.)  

Also, it may be the only crank that spawned as many imitations as the classic Campagnolo Record:  Sugino made a crankset that looked like a TA with a satin rather than a polished finish, and an early Shimano Deore crankset had the same bolt pattern, if a different look--as did the Stronglight 49D, the crank I'd probably choose if I wanted one with the 50.4 mm bolt circle and the option of single, double or triple.

Anyway, from the time it was introduced in 1963, the TA Pro 5 Vis became the crankset most commonly used on custom and other high-end touring bikes, particularly tandems, for about a quarter of a century.  Even early mountain bikes sported these cranks because they offered such a wide range of gearing--and, in spite of their appearance, were actually all but unbreakable.

Before Specialites TA introduced the Pro 5 Vis (five-bolt professional), the company produced chainrings used on cranks by other manufacturers.  Founder Georges Navet--who started out with ill-fated front-wheel drive experiments (hence the name:  TA stands for traction avant) wanted to produce a crankset to rival the best ones made by Campagnolo and Stronglight.  

Although Stronglight had been making cotterless cranks--fitted to the familiar square-taper  bottom bracket axle, which they originated--since the 1930s, some were still skeptical about the design.  Track racers were still using cottered cranks into the 1960s and some tourists still feared being stranded somewhere because the local garage or machine shop didn't have the right tools.  Other cyclists simply didn't want to change.

So, Monsieur Navet came up with a crankset that has the same arm and chainring bolt pattern we see on the Pro 5 Vis.  Unlike the Pro 5 Vis, this crankset--called the Criterium--was not cotterless.  So, in following the logic of cycle componentry from that time, you might say it was a "cottered" crank.  And you would be right--sort of.

If you didn't look closely, you might mistake them for cotterless cranks--which they are, sort of.

Specialites TA Criterium cranks with Spence Wolf-modified Campagnolo Nuovo Record rear derailleur, 1969.  From Velo Vecchio.

OK, you ask...What are they?  Well, the cranks were held to the axle by a bolt with an allen key head on one end, and a nut that threaded on to the other end.  That made the "cotters"--and the cranks easier to remove than those of traditional cottered cranks, and didn't require a special extractor, as cotterless cranks require.

An engineer once told me that the bolt holding the Criterium crank to its axle is technically not a "cotter", but rather a "pinch bolt."  The reason, he said, is that the traditional cotter has a wedge cut-out that is force-fit (usually by hammering) onto an axle with a flat spot.  The force--or stress, if you will--is what holds the crank to the axle.  On the other hand, the bolt in the Competition bore no such stress, and it merely holds the arm in place on the nearly pear-shaped axle end. 

The "not-cottered-but-not-cotterless" design had its advantages, in addition to not requiring special tools.  For one, the bolts were less prone to breaking or stripping than traditional cotter pins.  For another, it allowed 4mm of lateral movement in either direction on the axle.  That allowed the crank to be positioned for the best possible chainline.


One further advantage was that the design allowed the cranks to be made from aluminum.  A few companies made aluminum cottered cranks, but nearly all of them broke outright or ended up so gouged that the cotter pins could no longer hold them on to the bottom bracket axle.  But, because the Criterium's pinch bolt did not need hammer-blow forces to attach them, and because the shape of the axle and the way the bolts fitted into the crank provided an inherently more secure attachment, there was little to no danger of breaking or gouging the cranks.

What that meant was that the Criterium was, at the time it was introduced, the lightest crankset on the market.  It weighed even less than the alloy cranksets from Stronglight and Campagnolo because the Criterium's design allowed it to be made with skinny arms, like cottered cranks, and thinner around the axle interface.  it almost goes without saying that the Criterium was lighter, by far, than any other crankset because most--besides the aluminum cotterless sets made by Campy, Stronglight and a few other companies--were made of steel.

Cinelli Super Corsa with the drivetrain shown in the above photograph.  Also from Velo Vecchio.

The Criteriums were, like most Specialites TA products, meticulously made and beautifully finished.  Spence Wolf, the owner of Cupertino Bike Shop (one of the first in the US to devote itself to high-end bikes), equipped a few of the Cinellis and some of the Alex Singer bikes he sold with these cranks when the customer wanted wide-range gearing.  He would pair the Criteriums with a Campagnolo Record rear derailleur he modified with a long pulley cage he made for it.

But Specialites TA didn't make Criteriums for very long.  They introduced the Pro 5 Vis only a couple of years after the Criterium and, by that time, most dedicated, high-mileage cyclists--even track racers and tourists venturing into remote areas--were convinced that cotterless cranks were indeed a superior design.  To use a cliche, the rest is history.

Note:  I have seen only one of these cranks in person, on a bike I tuned up when I was working at the Highland Park Cyclery.  The bike had no markings on it, but the customer said it was "built in France".  I don't think it was a constructeur bike, but it looked fairly high-end.

These Flytes Never Took Off

When you think of high-quality bicycle tires, some names that might cross your mind are Michelin, Continental, Panaracer, Schwalbe and Vredestein.

Panaracer is a subsidiary of the Panasonic corporation.  People who aren't familiar with the brand, or cycling, might think it odd that an "electronics company" makes bike tires--and some very nice ones, at that.  Or, for that matter,  bikes, which is probably the reason why they didn't sell as well in the US as, say, Fuji.

Schwalbe doesn't seem to be similarly connected to some larger industrial concern.  At least, I couldn't find any such connection.  All of their tires, it seems, are made for bicycles, e-bikes, scooters or wheelchairs.

The other three brands I mentioned--Michelin, Continental and Vredestein--make tires for motorcycles, automobiles and other kinds of motorized vehicles (including industrial machines) as well as bicycles.  In an odd way, their practices parallel those of North American manufacturers in the days when few adults rode bicycles--and, as a result, demand for high-performance bikes and tires was minimal--on this side of the Atlantic.

If you rode a balloon-tired cruiser, whether from Schwinn, Columbia or Huffmann (Huffy) or long-gone marques like Elgin, Rollfast or Monark, it probably was shod with rubber from Goodyear, Goodrich or one of the other companies that made tires in the US for motorized vehicles.

(In fact, B.F. Goodrich also marketed bicycles, manufactured by Schwinn and other bike-makers, under their own name before World War II.)

Another of those US-based tire manufacturers was Carlisle.  From what I could tell, they were the only one of those manufacturers to make the transition from heavy balloon tires to lightweight high-performance tires.  In fact, not long after Michelin introduced the "Elan"--widely considered to be the first high-performance clincher tire-- in the mid 1970s, Carlisle produced its own narrow low-profile clincher tire, available with a folding or wire bead, called the "Flyte".

I never rode Flytes myself, but they seemed to be of good quality, if a bit heavier than Elans and their imitators.  I had not thought about them for a long time until I came across a listing on eBay:

The tire for sale is wire-beaded, though a folding version was also made.  My impression of Carlisle 700C and 27 inch tires comes entirely from the ones I saw in the shops in which I worked.  I don't recall selling, or knowing anyone who rode, them.  

Part of the reason they didn't catch on, I believe, is that most cyclists who were looking for high-performance clinchers were, by that time, riding European and Japanese equipment.  We were, by then, already accustomed to looking toward companies like Michelin--and Wolber, Clement, Panaracer and IRC, which would adapt and, in some cases, improve upon, the design of the Elan--for our pneumatic needs.  

Panaracer and IRC, Japanese concerns both, would also make tires for a then-fledgling company called Specialized Bicycle Imports.  Today, of course, you know it as "Specialized", and its "Turbo S" tire was probably the first to weigh (with the tube made for it) less than most racing tubulars while offering most of the ride quality of such tires.

By that time--the early 1980s--Carlisle was just barely hanging on in the bicycle world.  In fact, it was the last company to manufacture tires for non-motorized two-wheeled vehicles in the USA.   Today it is part of a group called Carlstar, which makes tires for industrial and agricultural vehicles and machines, ATVs and other outdoor vehicles--but not for bicycles.  Interestingly, they also seem not to be making car tires, but they offer after-market and custom car wheels under their Cragar, Black Rock and Unique brands.

What Have We Here? I'm Starting To Find Out

I haven't started to work on my estate-sale find yet.  I have, however begun to rummage through some components I have on hand and order a buy a few things (small parts) I need.

I did, however, begin to do a little research.  According to the serial number on the frame, and the information I found on the Vintage Trek website, my bike is probably a 1982 model.  The serial number pattern fits in with 400 series bikes made from 1980 to 1982, but the presence of a color band on the seat tube points to 1982.  On the other hand, the 412 pictured in the 1982 brochure has brazed-on brake cable guides and water bottle bosses, which my bike does not have.  Perhaps it's a 1981.5 model:  According to the VT website, the highest-priced Treks (Pro and 900 series), started to come with such bands in 1981. (The white bikes with blue panels are particularly nice, to my eye.) That feature "trickled down" to the 700 series bikes in the middle of that year (1981.5).  The 1982 brochures show 500 and 400 series models with it but, according to the website, some of those models came with color bands in late 1981.  

(Mercians, at least those made after 1970, are easier to track:  I had no trouble finding out Vera was made in 1994, as her original owner told me.  And, of course, I know that Arielle, Tosca and Helene are from 2006, 2007 and 2010, resepctively, because I had them custom-made in those years.

OK, so now I know the bike's origins, more or less.  Now I'm starting to learn a bit about the bike's quirks, aside from the ones I've already mentioned.  Actually, it's not a terribly quirky bike, from what I can see:  Threadings and other dimensions are standard, and in design it's much like other bikes of its type made around the same time, though perhaps somewhat better.

One quirk I found is in the componentry:  specifically, the Sakae crankset.  I know that some cranksets of that time were made with the 110 BCD chainring pattern, which is common today--and of which I have a few chainrings on hand.  I was hoping that the SR crankset--which looks rather nice--shared it.

Alas!  If you ever wonder what difference a few millimeters can make, you can see it here.  The black ring that I superimposed on the crank is a 110 made by Stronglight; the rings on the crankset have a slightly bigger bolt circle.  From the measurements I made, and Sheldon Brown's "crib sheet", it seems that the crank has the now-obsolete 118 BCD.  That means, of course, that I could find replacement chainrings only through swap meets and,  with luck, on eBay.

(My surprise is, I'm sure, mild compared to the frustration an owner of a Nervar Star crankset might feel:  Its 128 BCD, as close as it is to the 130 BCD of modern road racing cranks, still precludes interchangeability!) 

The rings on the bike don't seem to have much wear, so I think I'll keep them on for now:  They, and the crankset, look pretty nice.  (From what I can see, the arms are forged.)  The 52 tooth outer ring, standard for the era when the bike was made, is bigger than anything I ride now.  On the other hand, I am using 12 tooth rear cogs with my 46 and 48 tooth chainrings  (and a 17 with the 47 tooth ring on Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear):  something that didn't exist at the time the bike was made.  Then, most cyclists rode with freewheels on which the smallest cog had 14 teeth, which is what orignally came with the bike; racers sometimes used 13 tooth cogs.  If I use a freewheel with a 14 tooth cog, my highest gear will still be slightly lower than those of Arielle, Helene and Vera, my geared Mercians.  (Arielle, the road bike, has 48X12, while Helene and Vera have 46X12.)

One thing I have to say about the crank:  The bottom bracket--which, I believe, is the original--turns very smoothly.  I think someone recently overhauled it; still, I might take it apart if, for no other reason, to be sure that it has an intact protector sleeve.

Speaking of smooth bearings:  The headset feels good, but I might clean it anyway, just because I don't know when I'll do it again.  And I have a rear hub that I'm thinking of using.  The Phil that came with the bike is great, but it's 48 hole, and the rim it's laced to is 27 inches--which I'm not going to use, since I don't have a 27 inch front (The one that came with the bike wasn't salvageable.) rim, wheel or tire, and don't want to buy new ones.  The hub I have is pretty nice, though not quite as good as the Phil.

This is going to be an interesting project.  I'll probably start working on it in a couple of weeks, after classes have ended.

A Honeycomb Or A Spider? From Huret?

When I first became passionate about cycling, the best frames--usually made from Reynolds 531 or Columbus SL tubing--featured intricately-cut lugs, like the ones made by Nervex:

Nervex lugs with extra-long tangs on a 1950 Mercian Vincitore

A good production frame like the Peugeot PX-10 would use Nervex lugs "as is"; custom frame builders might file them to even finer points, or make a cutout "window".  

A few builders even cut plain lugs into their own distinctive patterns. The British builders in particular were noted for their distinctive scrolls, trellises and other shapes and patterns.

During the mid to late 1970s, however, bicycle makers--even the small-production custom builders--shifted to plainer "spearpoint" lugs.  Sometimes those artisans filed them to elongate the "spear" or, as they did with Nervex lugs, cut a "window" in a particular shape, such as a heart, diamond or cloverleaf, into the body of the lug.

For all of the fancy lugwork, though, dropouts looked more or less the same.  Again, some custom or low-production builders filed them or did other finishing work to make their bikes all the more distinctive.  Still, because most high-quality dropouts looked so similar, there wasn't as much a builder could do to make that part of the bike stand out.

One notable exception this:

Is it a honeycomb?  Or a spiderweb?  Did Huret make it?

In 1974 and 1975, Gitane "Interclub" and "Tour de France" were made with this dropout.  A few other bikes--all of them French--also featured this unique frame fitting.  

Often called the "honeycomb" or "spiderweb" dropout, its provenance is somewhat mysterious.  It's usually referred to as a "Huret" dropout because the bikes that came with it always seemed to have Huret derailleurs attached to them. (Yes, even on Gitanes, which were notorious for coming with parts that were very different from the ones listed on catalogue spec tables!)  I could not, however, find this dropout in any Huret catalogue or brochure from 1974 or 1975--or, in fact, from 1969 through 1981.

From what I've gathered, it seems to be of good quality.  One discussion board says that it was cast, rather than forged as Huret's (as well as Campagnolo's) road dropouts were.  However it was made, the "honeycomb" or "spiderweb" seems to be robust, as no one seems to know of any that broke or otherwise failed.

Apart from its appearance, the "'comb" or "'web" had one other interesting--and useful--feature: without modification, it could accept Campagnolo, SunTour, Shimano and Simplex as well as Huret derailleurs.  This is particularly serendipitious for anyone who wants to outfit an Interclub or Tour de France frame with modern components.

Huret dropout

Nearly all dropouts made since the 1980s are patterned after Campagnolo, which has a 10mm threaded mounting hole and a "stop" on the underside, at the 7 o'clock position.  (SunTour and Shimano dropouts from the 1970s and 1980s were also made this way.)  A Huret dropout also has a 10mm threaded hole, but its "stop" is at the four o'clock position. 

Campagnolo dropout. Note the 'stop' at the 7 o'clock position, as opposed to the 4 o'clock position on the Huret.

What all of that means is that a Campagnolo derailleur will fit into a Huret dropout, but it might mount at a strange angle, which could impede its shifting.  A SunTour derailleur doesn't share this problem, as its angle-adjusting screw has a lot of range.  In fact, Schwinn Superiors from 1976 through 1979 came with SunTour derailleurs mounted on Huret dropouts.  So did some Motobecanes from that period.

On the other hand, some Huret derailleurs won't work on Campy dropouts at all.  Two different versions of the Jubilee were made:  one for Huret's own dropouts, the other for Campagnolo.  Other Huret models, like early versions of the Success and Duopar, would work with adapters Huret offered; later versions of those derailleurs were made only to fit Campagnolo-style dropouts, which had become the de facto standard.

Simplex dropout

Simplex dropouts, as opposed to the others, had a 9 millimeter unthreaded hole and no "stop".  If you want to use any other derailleur, you have to tap out the hole and grind a "stop":  a rather delicate procedure, especially if the dropout was chromed, as it was on many bikes.  Because SImplex derailleurs attached to the dropout with a recessed allen bolt that threaded into the derailleur's top pivot (in contrast to other derailleurs with top pivot bolts that threaded directly into the dropout), it could be used in a Campy dropout--with a "Class B" fit.

So...If you have a bike with the "honeycomb" or "spiderweb" dropouts, you have no reason to fear, at least according to everything I've read.  But, honestly, you know you like it for its looks, or at least its uniqueness.  They don't make them like that anymore!

An Apt-O Stem For Your NJS-Approved Bike?

These days, if a poseur wants someone to know he is a real, hardcore, badass track rider, he makes sure every single bolt and nut---no, forget that: the air in the tubular tires--on his fixed-gear bike is stamped "NJS".  

(I used the male pronoun because everyone I've ever encountered who fit the foregoing description was male.)

Now, I have nothing against anything approved by Japanese Keirin racing's governing body.  Why, almost everything on my fixed-gear bike has that NJS seal--even the brakes! 

(And, yes, I served with the Peace Corps in Paris.  Really, I did!)

Then again, I don't even pretend to be a track racer:  I just like riding on a fixed gear.  And I am not concerned with having the latest gee-whiz technology:  All I want from my equipment is high quality, reliability and a lack of unnecessary complication.  If it looks nice, so much the better!

Now, if I were a real old-school, firewater-drinking track racer, I would be riding with this on my bike:

This Cinelli stem allowed its rider to adjust the reach (from the stem to the handlebars) from 50 to 170 mm (1.9 to 6.7 inches).  As far as I know, it was offered only in a track configuration, with a deep (probably -30 or 60 degree) drop.  So, as the stem is extended, the bar is also lowered. That would make sense on the track or, perhaps, for a road race that includes a time trial, as someone who is riding in a more spread-out position would probably want to ride in a lower position as well, for aerodynamics.  

Such stems also made sense at the time they were made--in the case of the Cinelli in the photo, from the 1940s until the 1960s--when team budgets were smaller and riders, as a result, might be riding the same bike for different kinds of events.  Other stem manufacturers, such as 3TTT and AVA, made similar items during that time, and earlier.  


Nitto made this seemingly-more-refined version (Yes, it was NJS approved) during the 1980s.  Since then, it seems that no stem maker has been willing to even touch the concept.  That is, until now:

3TTT, which made an adjustable track stem similar to Cinelli's, has just introduced a modern take on it.  Their new "Apto Pro" stem uses an oval steerer tube compartment to allow the stem to "grow".  Even with such a complex internal system, the stem has a rather sleek profile (I'd love to see it in polished, or even anodized, silver!) and a claimed weight of 77 grams, about half that of a typical threadless stem.

It all sounds very nice, but there is one catch:  The "Apto Pro" doesn't have anything like the range of adjustability offered by the old adjustable stems.  Instead, it comes in four different models that offer 15 mm of adjustment:  one for 70-85mm extension, another for 90-105, the third for 110-125 and the last for 130-145.  That means a team or rider can keep four stems on hand and have 75 mm of adjustability.  Also, the fact that they have faceplates on the handlebar clamps means that the stems can be switiched pretty easily from one bike to another.

For the moment, 3TTT plans to make it available only with a clamp that fits 31.8mm diameter handlebars.  The company has not yet disclosed a suggested retail price or when or where the Apto Pro will be available.

Letting The Air Out

Tubeless tires for bicycles have been available for about two decades.  I have never used them myself, but I understand how they are useful for some riders, particularly mountain bikers.  While most road cyclists' flats are the result of punctures from road debris, mountain bikers are more likely to incur pinch flats that result from riding tires at low pressures, which causes the tube to be squeezed between the ground and the rim. If I were to become an active mountain bike rider again, I just might try tubeless tires.

I once tried another product created with the aim of preventing flat tires. 

Imagine a (say, 27 inch or 700C) donut made from the kind of rubber used to make tire casings.  That "donut" is solid; it does not have a hollow core into which air can be pumped, let alone one that can accommodate a tube. 

As you can imagine, installing such a tire was not easy:  It didn't even have the "stretch" of a tight-fitting tubed tire with a particularly stiff bead.  (I thought it was difficult to put those old Specialized Turbo tires on Weinmann concave rims until I tried installing one of the solid tires I mentioned!)  Removing it wasn't easy, either. 

That tire--the Zeus LCM--was available for a few years from the late 1970's to the mid-1980's.  Frank, the proprietor of Highland Park (NJ) Cyclery, stocked a few only because a few customers wanted them.  He also kept a pair of wheels fitted with those tires so would-be customers could try them before committing.  During the time I was working at HPC, he allowed me to borrow them for a few of rides.

If I thought those tires were hard in my hands, they were even harder on the road. They felt like they were made of cement!  Believe it or not, I actually did a half-century, in addition to riding to and from work for a few days, on them.  Never before had I ridden so slowly and felt so banged-up after riding:  The Zeus tires lacked the buoyance of pneumatic tires.  I found myself wondering whether I had just experienced what riding on a "boneshaker" must have felt like!


By the way, those Zeus tires were made in the US and bore no relationship to the Basque/Spanish bicycle and bicycle component manufacturer. Ironically, the only items on Zeus bikes that weren't made by the company were--you guessed it--the tires (and, in the case of clinchers, tubes). 

Around the same time those Zeus tires were on the market, a few similar products were being made.  Also, at least one other company made and marketed a solid foam inner tube, and another made a closed-cell foam inner tube with a hollow core which, as Retrogrouch pointed out, was like a big elastomer.  They were even heavier, slower and harsher-riding than the Zeus donuts.

Those products apparently disappeared around the mid-to-late 1980s.  

Sometimes it seems that if an idea is silly, impractical or bad enough, its time will come, or come again.  (That could make Victor Hugo turn in his grave!)   So, would you be surprised to find out that someone is making closed-cell foam tire inserts  again?  For me, the only surprise is that one of the most respected tire makers--Hutchinson--is behind it.  They don't sell that insert alone, but as part of their "Serenity" tire, which is like one of their city tires (I forget the name of it ) with a tough casing. 

From the Tannus website

Knowing that, you also probably won't be surprised to know that another company--Tannus--is reviving the idea of the Zeus tire.  Like the Zeus, it's a fully-molded solid tire that come in an array of neon colors that would have sent even Valley Girls running and hiding.



As George Santayana said, those who ignore the past are doomed to repeat it.  The pneumatic tire is one of the most important inventions in the history of the human race, and certainly the most important bicycle-related inventions.  Without that chamber of air floating and cushioning the bike and its riders, the bicycle, most likely, still couldn't be faster than a horse, even with Eddy Mercx pedaling.

 

Vintage? Classic? Both? Neither?

I started working in bike shops in 1975, at the tail end of the '70's Bike Boom in North America.  One thing that makes me feel old is that many of the bikes I assembled, repaired and rode (whether they were my own, borrowed or test-ridden) are considered "classics" or "vintage" now!

So what is the difference between "classic" and "vintage"?  As a student of literature and history, when I hear of a "classic", I think of something that is still just as interesting, relevant or useful, or having as much artistic merit, as it did when it was first created or introduced to the world.  Some obvious examples would include most of Shakespeare's writings and Michelangelo's and Rodin's sculptures.  And, as a velophile (Does that word actually exist?), I would classify bicycles and frames from some of the greatest builders and constructeurs, as well as Brooks B17 and Professional saddles, the Huret Jubilee derailleur, Mavic and Super Champion rims, almost any SunTour derailleur or Campagnolo Record, Nuovo Record or Super Record part from the 1960's through 1985 (when they ceased production).

Now, to "vintage".  It's actually a term that refers to wines made from grapes grown in a specific year. The term took on the connotation of "high quality" because wines of certain years are particularly prized.  It took on the additional connotation of "old" because those prized vintages, especially in red wines, develop their reputations over time.

So almost all things you can buy in a thrift store--including bikes--are called "vintage", especially in any neighborhood or forum (e.g. Craigslist) with pretentions to hipness.  Now, some "vintage" items are very nice and offer things (such as design, material, craftsmanship and, in the case of bikes, a ride quality--or simply character) that are difficult or impossible to find today.  But other "vintage" items serve as reminders that "they don't make 'em like they used to, thank God!"

You can blame ;-) "Mike W." for what I've written in the previous four paragraphs. His comments on yesterday's post reminded me that not all "vintage" bikes were great, or even good.  Sure, if you have a bike from a French constructeur or an English  builder like Mercian, Bob Jackson, Ron Cooper or Jack Taylor, it's probably excellent, even if it has mid-level componentry.  Ditto for top Italian builders like Colnago, DeRosa and Cinelli.  And the same could be said for some of the American builders who came along at that time, like Albert Eisentraut.

After those bikes, there were some fine mass-produced (or high-production) machines from manufacturers whose names we all have heard.  For example, a Raleigh Carlton frame from that period is most likely very nice (especially if it's the blue mink-and-sable Professional).  So is a Schwinn Paramount.  Those companies also made some nice mid- and upper-middle-level bikes.  But a famous name doesn't always make for a bike that's better or even more unique than what is made today.

Bikes like this one are commonly listed as "vintage" on Craigslist, eBay and other sale sites.

The truth is, back in the day, we thought some of the machines called "vintage" were great because we didn't know any better.  Most young people today can't understand how exotic that first bike with a derailleur we saw back in the day (say, the late '60's or early '70's) seemed to us, let alone how other-worldly entry-level racing bikes looked and rode in comparison to the balloon-tired bombers, English "racers" or "muscle" bikes we'd been riding.

For me--and, I imagine, for folks like "Mike W.", the glow dimmed when we started putting together and fixing those bikes a few hours a day.  Any of us who worked in bike shops at that time can recall supposedly "good" bikes that came out of the box with bent forks, mis-aligned frames, improperly cut bottom bracket and headset threads, wheels that were all-but-hopelessly out-of-round, not to mention paint that fell off if you breathed too hard in the vicinity of the bike. (And that's before you started drinking!)  One bike I assembled--considered a "good" bike in those days--had a bottom bracket full of cardboard.  Another from the same maker had what looked like a combination of paint chips and sawdust.

I have a theory as to why we saw such bikes.  Before the Bike Boom, very few adults in the US rode bicycles.  Typically, they bought bikes for their oldest kids who, as often as not, passed them down to younger siblings and on to neighbors.  Families replaced their cars, but not bikes, every couple of years.

Then, when the Bike Boom hit, American bike factories weren't prepared.  Not only couldn't they make enough bikes to meet the demand; they weren't equipped to make the kinds of bikes the new cyclists were demanding.  So, dealers and distributors turned to foreign manufacturers.  Because bike sales had been declining in Europe during the '50's and '60's, factories there couldn't make as many bikes as Americans wanted.  (With the exception of large companies like Raleigh and Peugeot, European bike makers usually built just enough to supply local or regional demand.) However, they had been making "lightweight" bikes with derailleurs.  So, those makers increased their production.

We all know that when a company suddenly increases the number or amount of anything it makes, quality is almost certain to suffer.  What made the situation worse, though, is that many of those makers had outdated factories and equipment.  When bike sales were slow, they didn't bother to replace worn-out machinery and tools. (This is often given as the reason why Sturmey-Archer hubs started to decline precipitously in quality in 60's and, by the 1980s, new ones were all but impossible to adjust and maintain.)  The result is that those bike makers--including such industry giants as Raleigh, Atala and Gitane--shipped out bikes that were, frankly, shoddy.

(Rumor had it that Atalas and other low- to mid-level Italian bikes were made by prisoners.)

Now, if you've been reading this blog for a while, you know that I like a lot of--but not all--vintage equipment.  My Mercians are, in many ways, inspired by favorite "vintage"--or, more precisely, "classic" bikes-- in their practical (at least for me) designs and sweet rides. Yes, I ride Brooks saddles, toe clips with straps, Nitto bars, stems and seatposts (or Velo Orange items patterned after them) and cranks with square tapered axles.  And, oh yes, canvas-and-leather bags.  I admit I chose the bags for style as much as function, but I also expect them to last longer than most of their high-tech counterparts.

My point is: "Vintage" (the way most people use the term) is not always classic.  I like a lot of vintage  and vintage-inspired stuff, but I don't ride it just because it's vintage.  I ride it because it works, and has worked and will probably continue to do so in ways that new stuff can't or won't.  In other words, I believe that much of what I ride is, or is based on, classics.  They work for me.  And I always buy the best quality I can, for classics are not disposable: they endure.

These Brakes Made Me Stop--And Take Notice

On this blog, I have said that almost every "innovation" or "revolution" in cycling is simply a reiteration of something that was done earlier.  Some examples include non-round chainrings and aluminum frames.

The same can be said for "U"-brakes, which were found on many mountain bikes of the late 1980's.  Like cantilevers and "V" brakes, they mount on studs that are usually brazed onto the frame. They look like oversized centerpulls, which is what they basically are.  On one model, a cam mechanism replaced the straddle cable and yoke found on cantilevers and centerpulls.  This helped to make the brake more rigid and powerful, but also were prone to getting clogged with mud or fouled by debris when the brakes were mounted, as they typically were, on the chainstays.

They actually bore a striking resemblance to these brakes made from the 1930s until the 1960s:

I suspect this particular model was made by Jeay because Mercier, among other French bike makers,  equipped their tandems, touring bikes,  randonneuses and city bikes with them.   

Those brakes, like "U" brakes, are operated by a cam that's pulled by the cable.  Also like U brakes, they mount on studs that are higher on the forks or stays than those for cantilevers but lower than the ones used for centerpulls. 

The Mercier in the photo has other features--such as the frame tube configuration and rear pannier-- rarely, if ever, found on bikes that made their way to the US:

That means, of course, I am not in Kansas, let alone the US.  More on that soon.