A Schwinn From The Bottom Of The River And Tosca By Flatbush Falls

While riding with a friend yesterday, I chanced upon this gem:

To say it's in rough shape is to be kind:  It looks like it was fished from the bottom of the river.  But it was probably a very nice bike of its type in its time, and could be so again today with lots of TLC.

I noticed this chainguard before I noticed the rest of the bike.  In a strange way, it's baroque, art deco and modernist all at once.  I'm guessing that it was chromed before turning into rust; if it was, it would have really been something to behold!

In addition to a major overhaul and refinishing, the bike needs a seat. It also might need a skirt guard.  At least, I'm assuming that was the reason for the holes in the fenders.

Is this an ancestor of today's suspension systems?  Or maybe it just adds to the bike's aura of invincibility.

As you may be able to discern from the headbadge, the bike is a Schwinn.  From what I could see, I guessed it's from the 1930's or 1940's.  I wonder whether the bike originally came with the "holey" fender.  For all I know, Schwinn ladies' bikes from that time might have had skirt guards.

But the surprises didn't end with the bike:

Now, where do you think I was?  The Brooklyn Botanical Gardens?

Actually, I wasn't very far from the Gardens.  But this place is nothing like the Gardens:

Believe it or not, Flatbush Falls (what I decided to call them) is, as you can see, in front of an apartment building. (It's at the corner of East 16th Street and Avenue I in Brooklyn.  Of course, stopping to look at it was a dead give-away that I'm not from the neighborhood.  Actually, even if I hadn't stopped, I would have stood out in that neighborhood--which is home to thousands of Orthodox Jews--bceause of the bike I was riding and the way I was dressed.

Tosca's a great bike. But she's definitely not one someone in that neighborhood would ride.  Nor, for that matter, is the Schwinn I saw.

A Cuevas Leads Me To A Beacon To Hollywood

For part of yesterday's ride to Point Lookout, an interesting fellow on an interesting bike accompanied me.

His name is Augustine, and this is his bike:

At first glance, it seems like another vintage road frame converted to single-speed usage.  In fact, it is.  But this is not just any old vintage from.  Oh, no. 

All right.  Looking at the headtube and fork crown may not give you a hint as to who made the frame.  But you can see that the builder did nice work.  You can especially see it in the seat cluster.  

It's a sure sign of someone who did some of the nicest lug work ever done in the United States: Francisco Cuevas.

He was born in Barcelona, Spain, where he learned how to make frames as a teenager.  But a little thing called the Spanish Civil War came along, followed by a Franco's dictatorship.  So, in the early 1950's, Senor Cuevas set sail for Argentina with his wife and young children.

He built frames for Argentina's national team, as well as other cyclists.  However, he and his family found themselves living under another military dictatorship, and emigrated to the US in 1970. After a stint with Metro Bikes, he built frames for Mike Fraysee's Paris Sport line, and then opened his own framebuilding shop only a few pedal strokes (literally!) from where I now live.  Senor Cuevas built Augustine's frame there.

When Cuevas came to the US, the "bike boom" was about to start.  During the "boom," boatloads of bikes came into the country, some bearing brands never before, or since, seen or heard about.  One name in the latter category is Beacon.

Apparently, there was a manufacturer of that name in Wisconsin, and a company by the same name that imported bikes.  I don't know whether they're related.  What I do know is that the importer had several house brands, including Astra (made by Motobecane in France) as well a line of bikes called Beacon, which were made in Japan and, later, Taiwan.

Like many Japanese bicycles sold in the US during the "bike boom" of the 1970's (including Nishiki, Azuki and the Japan-produced Univegas), they could be found only in the US.  In contrast, Fuji, Miyata and Panasonic made bikes in Japan that were also sold there, in addition to the bikes that were exported.

Like many of the Japanese bikes made strictly for the US market during the "bike boom," they have solid, reliable lugged-steel (usually mild steel, but sometimes chro-moly) with clean, if not flashy, lugwork and paint.  Those are the very qualities that make them good city and upright bikes, like the one I saw in Rockaway Beach:

I think about the only orginal components on Peter's Beacon are the headset and, possibly, the seatpost.  His wheels were built around a Shimano internal-geared rear hub and dynamo front hub.  Velo Orange rims are laced to them.

The rims aren't the only VO components, as evidenced by the crankset, chainguard and fenders.  This bike is practically a  "poster child" for VO!

Finally, when I got to Point Lookout, I espied this old gem by the playground:

This one looks like it's from the 1960's.  And it doesn't look big enough for most adults.  Could it be that some little girl rode her mother's--or grandmother's--Schwinn Hollywood to the beach?

On The Rocks, Into The Sunset

When I rode to Point Lookout today, I realized something about the place.  So did this couple:

Everyone and everything in Point Lookout must perch on the rocks.  I think that's actually written into the local ordinances.

Arielle understands as much.  And for being a good citizen, she (and I) got to end our ride in grand style: