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! 

When You Spoke Of Good Wheels, There Was Just One Name

These days, if you are building a quality wheel, you are likely to use spokes from DT Swiss, Wheelsmith or Sapim.  I have heard arguments and seen a few flame wars (really!) over which brand is better, with partisans of one brand insisting that the others are good only for kebab skewers.


Me, I think they're all high-quality spokes.  All of my current wheels have either DT Swiss or Wheelsmith spokes on them; I don't have Sapims mainly because they're less available, at least here in the US.  Also, I should point out that all of my current wheels have round spokes:  I am not using any bladed or elliptical spokes. 

(I did, for a time, ride a radially-laced front track wheel I built with Wheelsmith bladed spokes.  I had no problems with them.  That said, I didn't ride any rough road surfaces on that wheel.)

One thing I find interesting, from the perspective of four decades as a dedicated cyclist, is that nearly all current high-quality spokes are stainless steel.  During the 1990s, titanium spokes gained some popularity along with bikes and other components made from the same material; today, bladed carbon-fiber or aluminum alloy spokes are found on low-spoke-count boutique wheelsets.  But for the past three decades or so, about 90 percent of quality wheels--and nearly all custom-built wheels--have been laced with stainless spokes from one of the manufacturers I've mentioned.

Back in the day, things were a bit different. (You can say that about just about anything, I guess, except for human nature!)  My first pair of custom-built wheels were composed from Super Champion 58 rims laced to Campagnolo Nuovo Tipo hubs with Robergel Sport spokes.

If you haven't heard of Robergel spokes, which were made in France, you probably don't remember the Tokheim Gear Maker or Durham "Camel" chainrings, either.  But Robergel Sport spokes had much more of a raison d'etre than either of those products.  So, for that matter, did Robergel's "Trois Etoiles" spoke--but more so the "Sport".

You see, the Sport was made in a way that almost no "good" spoke is made today:  It was zinc-plated.  The base material was a high-tensile steel that wasn't stainless.   If you were building a wheel for loaded touring or other rugged use (my first custom wheels took me on my first tour of Europe), you used Robergel Sports.

(The cheapest spokes then, as now, were cadmium-plated or not plated at all.)

Although the Trois Etoiles spokes were plenty strong--custom builders still seek them--and, let's face it, beautiful, the Sport was clearly the stronger spoke.  And, in those days, the Trois Etoiles was probably the only stainless steel spoke that could stand up to the rigors of racing as well as other hard use; those from other makers whose names you've never heard routinely broke. For those reasons, Trois Etoile spokes were used on otherwise all-Italian or even all-Japanese racing bikes.  Very often, a high-end racing or touring bike might have three French components on it:  Robergel spokes, Mavic or Super Champion rims and Christophe toe clips.

The main reason why the Sport and other zinc-plated spokes were used on wheels built for loaded or hard riding, or on bikes that weren't cared-for by team mechanics, is that stainless steel in those days was more brittle, even though it had more tensile strength, than carbon steel with zinc plating.  (A few companies made bicycles with stainless steel frames during the 1970s; their failure rate was high.) Also, if the spokes didn't have rust or tarnish on them before they were plated, they didn't rust during normal usage.  

They did, however, take on a dull finish that didn't even have enough charm to be called "patina".  That, I think, is the main reason why zinc-plated spokes have fallen out of favor:  If you wanted them to look good, you had to clean them, especially if you rode them in the rain.  

A few spoke makers--Robergel was not one of them--offered chrome-plated steel spokes.  They, of course, look nicer than zinc-plated spokes that have been in a couple of monsoons.  But quality chroming is expensive, and too often manufacturers take shortcuts or simply don't know any better.  And, because the cross-section of a spoke is so thin, doing the process properly is even more critical than it is, say, on a frame or a rack.

Chrome plating is actually porous.  Thus, if there isn't a proper under-coat, the steel underneath it is just as vulnerable to the elements than it would be if it were left bare.  Actually, improperly plating something with chrome is actually worse than leaving the underlying metal bare, for it allows rust to begin underneath the surface.  By the time the rust becomes visible, the damage is already done.  In the case of a spoke, it could break even before the rust becomes visible.

(Let me emphasize that I am not against chrome-plating on bicycles as long as it is done properly.  If the frame was made by a constructeur or other high-end builder, the chrome was probably done right.   You can't be as certain with mass manufacturers, particularly those at the lower end of the spectrum.)

There was one other short-lived attempt to keep spokes nice and shiny.  In the 1970s and early 1980s, an Italian maker named Redaelli offered nickel-plated spokes (which were also said to be made specially for Campagnolo hubs).  I don't know how long those spokes lasted in real-life use, for I never knew anyone who used them in real life.  For all I know, they might have been just as good as anything Robergel made.  But nickel does share an issue with chrome:  If the underlying steel was not free of rust, corrosion or dirt when the plating process began, the spokes could rust or corrode from within in much the same way as chrome-plated spokes.  

Whatever the fate of those Redaellis or the chrome-plated spokes I've mentioned, I wouldn't be surprised to find out that someone is still riding my old wheels with Robergel "Sport" zinc-plated spokes.  I don't know of any manufacturer that makes zinc-plated spokes for bicycles anymore; now most people think that if a bike has something that isn't shiny or doesn't have a carbon finish,it must not be any good.  As the saying goes, don't judge a book by its cover--or a spoke by its finish!

My Kingdom For A Horse, Or Ten Kowalits For A Pair Of Wheels

I remember getting my first Campagnolo component:  a pair of Nuovo Tipo hubs.  My first nice pair of clincher wheels—Super Champion 58 rims laced to those hubs with Robergel Sport spokes—cost the princely (for a poor college student like me) sum of $100.  The man who built them seemed like a magician to me at the time:  I simply could not fathom what sorcery or alchemy turned all of those parts into a pair of wheels that would take the length and breadth of state of New Jersey, on two of the early Five Boro Bike Tours and on my first European bike tour.

It wasn’t just the parts and the build that made them seem almost otherworldly at that time.  Most clincher tires and wheels in the US at the time were 27” and the tubes had Schraeder (the kind found on car tires) valves.  Mine were 700C and drilled for Presta valves.  That was intentional:  I used the wheels on my Peugeot PX-10, which came with 700C tubular wheels and tires—and, of course Presta valves.  I’ve never seen a tubular tire with Schrader valves and the only non-700C tubulars I’ve come across were the ones made for junior racers.

Those new wheels meant that I could switch back and forth between tubulars and clinchers without having to re-adjust the brake blocks.  (I used to tighten the cable adjuster a bit for the tubular rims, which were narrower and loosen them for the clinchers.)  They also would fit on other good bikes, including a couple I would acquire later—and which would, at one time or another, be equipped with those wheels.  Also, I could use the same pump on all of my tires without having to use an adapter.

Today, those wheels would seem dated to anyone not riding a “classic” bike.  The parts were all of fine quality and lasted many rides for me.  But using those Tipo hubs would limit gear selection to whatever five- and six-speed freewheels could be found in swap meets, on eBay or in some “accidentally” discovered stash. And, as good as those rims were, the Mavic MA series rims, with their double-wall construction and hooked tire beads, introduced in the early 1980s, were lighter and allowed cyclists to use a wider variety of tires. 

But even after the MA rims—and newer hub offerings from Campagnolo, Shimano, Mavic and other companies—were introduced, there were places where cyclists would have done almost anything to have wheels like my first good clinchers.  One of those places was the German Democratic Republic, a.k.a. East Germany.  In fact, they probably would have done illegal or simply un-approved-of things to get a bike like mine—especially its Stronglight crank.  Only Campagnolo’s Record crankset was more prized.

That is the situation Gerolf Meyer describes in the latest edition of BicycleQuarterly. 

Like other athletes from his country, cyclists wanted to prove themselves against the best from the West.  As talented as some East German riders were, their equipment was stuck in the 1950’s.  There were shops that took “room dividers”—Diamant “sport” bicycles with impossibly long wheelbases—and shortened chain stays and top tubes, lowered brake bridges and did other things to make those machines ride something like racing bikes.  Engineers and technicians in factories and medical supply cooperatives made cable tunnel guides and other frame fittings and bike parts on the side. 

There were even mechanics and builders who could take the crudely-machined and –finished East German components and make them look—and even, to a degree, function—like “Campag”.  In one of the most extreme examples, Hans-Christian Smolik took a Tectoron rear derailleur—which borrowed its shape and basic function from the Campagnolo Record but and had lettering that faced upside down—and made it all but indistinguishable from the Real McCoy. 

Tectoron Rear Derailleur.  Photo from Disraeligears

 

In the 1980s, the East German sanctioned the development of the Tectoron derailleur and other parts in an attempt to catch up with the technology of Western bikes and equipment.  One of the ironies is that Campagnolo, Shimano, Mavic and other Western manufacturers were innovating in ways that would render obsolete (at least for those who simply had to have the newest and latest) the stuff the East Germans were imitiating.

Campagnolo Super Record, 1979.  Photo from Disraeligears

A fortunate few were able to obtain Western components through connections—a relative who’d retired to the West (Apparently,the East German government didn’t mind letting retirees leave, probably figuring that it would save the state on pension costs.), a partially-subterranean “supply chain” or Western racers the East Germans met at events like the Peace Race.

About the latter:  There developed a barter system not unlike the ones soldiers develop with those fighting alongside, as well as on the other side, of them, complete with its own "exchange rates". (During the first Gulf War, one French K-ration was worth five of its American counterparts.)  Sometimes  the East Germans—as well as Soviet bloc riders—would trade jerseys, pins or other souvenirs, or local delicacies. But the East Germans—and Czechs—actually made one bicycle component that was superior to anything in the West: tubular tires.  Kowalit tubular were the stuff of legend:  a light, supple tire that wore like iron.  I never rode any myself, but I did have a pair of Czech-made “Barum” tires that I rode, literally, to the tubes:  Not even the best stuff from Clement, Vittoria, Wolber, Michelin, Continental or Soyo (Yes, I rode tires from every one of those companies!) was anywhere near as good.  Ten Kowalits --or, I presume, Barums-- could fetch a good wheelset.

Of course, such deals had to be made “in the shadows”, and certainly not after the race.  Can you imagine what some East German would have offered (if indeed he or she had anything to offer) for my old Colnago?

Campagnolo Gran Sport: Act II

Yesterday, I mentioned the Campagnolo Gran Sport and its offspring.  As I said, although the original GS derailleur ceased production in 1963, the name wasn't abandoned:  It was re-appropriated in 1975.  In a way, Campagnolo came "full circle" with the Nuovo Grand Sport rear derailleur:  It shared the geometry and overall design of the Record and its succ essors, but had a cruder finish and hexagonal rather than recessed allen bolts, while the Record, Nuovo Record and Super Records were refinements of the original Gran Sport.    The 1970's Gran Sport was situated below the Record but above Campagnolo's "budget" Valentino and Gran Turismo derailleurs, which cost more than, and didn't shift as well as, Japanese derailleurs of the time.  

Campagnolo Nuovo Gran Sport derailleur, late 1970s

Also, over the few years that followed the introduction of the original GS, Campy created a line of Gran Sport components: hubs, crankset, bottom bracket, headset, pedals and seatpost, but no brakes.  This gruppo is believed to be the first such comprehensive ensemble of professional-level equipment since Birmingham Small Arms (BSA) made the components-of-choice for Six-Day Racers as well as much of the peloton during the 1930s. (BSA also made some very well-respected bicycles.)  Soon, Campagnolo Gran Sport parts would be nearly as common among elite cyclists as BSA stuff had been.




A new gruppo was also created around the Nuovo Gran Sport.  It would include something the original Gran Sport group didn't have:  brakes.  (Interestingly, BSA made brakes to go with their other components, but Campagnolo didn't come out with their now-famous sidepulls until 1968, a year after the Nuovo Record derailleur was introduced.) The arms were all but identical to those of the Record.  However, the cable adjuster was a knurled dome and didn't have the rubber "O" ring seen on Record brakes.  More important, the quick release could only be opened or closed completely, in contrast to the infinitely-variable quick release on the Record, which could be opened part way.


One of the most interesting Nuovo Gran Sport components was the crankset, which had a three-arm spider:

Gran Sport crankset, 1970s

Later, it was replaced by a five-arm spider much like that of the Record:




The headset shared the same bearings and bearing surfaces with Record and Super Record headsets.  However, the Gran Sport, made entirely from steel, had only two wrench "flats" on the top adjustable race, while Record-level headsets had multiple sides that to fit a standard headset wrench.



Some people preferred the Gran Sport because it didn't have any names or logos on the adjustable race or lower head race. In that way, it resembled the headsets found on some old British frames like Claud Butler.

The pedals were based on the Record's quill design.  The bearings and bearing surfaces were the same. However, the NGS didn't share the Record's knurling on the outside of the cone locknut that helped to prevent dirt from working its way in.  In addition, the dust caps on the NGS were plastic (steel on the Record and alloy on the Super Record) and the cutouts on the cages were a bit smaller.  Finally, as with the rear (and front) derailleurs, the finish was cruder.  However, nobody seemed to notice any difference in functionality between the Gran Sport and Record series pedals.



Possibly the most inelegant (at least to my eye) constituent of the Nuovo Gran Sport line was the shift levers.  They functioned just like the Record levers but, like other Gran Sport components, had a less-polished finish. And the adjuster nuts, while easy enough to use, were not attractive, at least to my tastes.




In contrast, the Gran Sport front derailleur was all but indistinguishable from the Record:



Finally, here is my favorite component in the Gran Sport lineup:




These hubs were part of the Nuovo Gran Sport gruppo.  But they weren't called "Gran Sport". Instead they were known as "Nuovo Tipo", the name under which they had been made since 1965, a decade before the introduction of the Nuovo Gran Sport derailleur.  The hubs were simply incorporated into the group.


I had two sets of wheels with these hubs.  In fact, my very first set of custom wheels was built around them, with Super Champion 58 rims and Robergel "Sport" spokes.  I rode them on my first long bike tours and, after a few hundred miles, the hubs spun just as smoothly as the Record hubs I would later acquire.  

TIpos shared the same bearings, cones and axles with Record hubs of the same era.  However, the inner races on the Tipos were stamped, while those on Records were forged.  That meant that Tipos weren't as smooth out of the box as Records and needed "breaking in".  They also probably didn't last as long, but I knew cyclists (myself included) who rode plenty of miles, some of them hard, on Tipos.  

More visible differences, though, were in the logo (Tipos used the older-style "flying wheel" while Records had the "world" insignia), the oil hole clips on the Records and lack of same on the Tipos, and the knurled quick-release locknut on the Tipo vs. the nut with the D-ring on the Record.



Finally, the large-flanged version of the Record had oval cutouts in the flanges, while the Tipos had portal-style holes reminiscent of classic hubs from the 1930s to the 1950s.




Probably the best-known bike (in the US, anyway) to come equipped with Nuovo Gran Sport components was the Raleigh Competition from 1977 to 1985. (Before 1977 , the Competition came with a Huret Jubilee rear derailleur and other French components.)  The NGS gruppo was, not surprisingly, more likely to be found on Italian bikes.  I recall seeing Olmos and Cioccs outfitted with the full Nuovo Gran Sport ensemble, except for the rear derailleur, which was a Nuovo Record.  Stuyvesant Bicycle  and a few other shops sold them.  I don't know whether the shops changed the derailleurs or whether the bikes were originally spec'd that way.

Whatever the case, Nuovo Gran Sport equipment, while good and reliable, never became terribly popular in the US.  I think one reason was the crude finish of some parts, especially the rear derailleur.  For about  the same price as NGS, one could buy Shimano Dura-Ace or SunTour Superbe equipment, which were beautifully finished and offered some of the features (like the infinitely variable brake quick-release) Campagnolo included in their Record series but omitted from Gran Sport.  And SunTour derailleurs and levers shifted better than their counterparts from Campagnolo.

Campagnolo finally retired the Gran Sport name and lineup in 1985, the same year the Nuovo and Super Record series ended their runs.  The Record lines were superseded by the Record-C, while the Gran Sport's berth below the Record was taken by the Chorus and Athena gruppos.  And Campagnolo stopped making their lower-end Valentino and Gran Turismo derailleurs and developed new "mass market" component lines called Victory and Triomphe.

Which Mercian Should He Ride Today?

It wouldn't surprise you too much to know that one of the blogs on my reading list is Mercian Cycles'.

People are amazed when they find out that I have four Mercians.  My usual response usually goes something like, "I'm the luckiest girl in the world."

(All right, now you know where my priorities lie!)

I figured that there are other people who have more Mercians than I do, but I don't know any personally.  I'd like to meet them--or look at their collection, anyway!

One such person--or, more appropriately, his bikes--are the subject of today's post on the Mercian Cycles blog.

A fellow named Kyle--who goes by the nom de blog "Retrogrouch"--has just restored a 1980 Strada Speciale with period-correct parts, including a first-generation SunTour Cyclone derailleur, Simplex retrofriction levers, milled Sugino Mighty cranks with "drillium" chainrings and Campagnolo Nuovo Tipo hubs.  This Strada Speciale, he says, is his eighth Mercian.

His collection includes vintage as well as modern models--and a modern bike with vintage Campagnolo parts that looks like a vintage bike.  They're all lovely bikes, so it's hard to decide which I liked best.

If you've been following my blog, though, you can probably understand why I like his 2008 Strada Speciale track bike:



or his 2012 Vincitore, built as an urban/path bike:



or, for that matter, his second Mercian, a 1979 "Classic":



I'd love to know how Kyle decides which bike to ride.