The other day, I wrote about my Peugeot U0-8, which became my first "fixie." Now I'm going to write about another Peugeot I owned, which I didn't alter nearly as drastically.
When I bought my Schwinn Continental, I saw a Peugeot PX-10 in the shop. I looked at its price tag: $250 seemed like sheer insanity for a bike to someone who'd saved the $96 cost of the Schwinn from a year of delivering newspapers in the hinterlands of New Jersey.
Somehow, though, I knew I was going to end up with that bike. As I wheeled my Continental out of the showroom of Michael's Bicycle Company (located next to a drive-in theater on Route 35 in Hazlet, NJ), I could feel the bike bug embedding its tentacles into my shins.
Well, about three years later, I got a PX-10 for $250--used. And it was three years older than the one I saw in the showroom.
It seems that almost everyone who came of age during the '70's Bike Boom rode a PX-10 at some point or another. For many of us, it was our first real racing bike: Bernard Thevenet won the 1975 and 1977 Tours de France on PX-10s that differed from the ones we bought only in that the stems and handlebars were changed to fit his physique.
Also, the great Eddy Merckx began his professional career astride a PX-10 for the BP-Peugeot team in the mid-1960's.
Although $250 seemed like a lot of money for a bike in 1972 (and was probably even more so in 1969, when the PX-10 I bought was built), it was actually quite a good value. First of all, the frame was built from Reynolds 531 tubing with Nervex lugs. While the level of finesse in the lugwork and paint wasn't up to what one would find on a bike from a French constructeur or a classic British builder, it was nothing to be ashamed of.
The chainstays, clearances and fork rake were all considerably longer than what would be found on later racing bikes. However, racing bikes at that time had to be more versatile, as roads, particularly in small towns and rural areas of Europe, were rougher: Some still hadn't been repaired after the bombings and shellings of World War II. Also, racers and trainers at the time believed that a rider should spend as much time as possible on the bike he plans to use in upcoming races. They also believed that, at least for road racing, outdoor training was superior to indoor, so the bikes were ridden all year long. They--yes, even Merckx himself--rode with fenders and wider tires during the winter.
The longer geometry and rather thin stays meant that while the frame gave a lively ride, it could be "whippy," especially for a heavy rider, in the rear. The flip-side of that, of course, was that the PX-10 gave a stable and comfortable ride in a variety of conditions. This is one reason why many PX-10s were re-purposed as light touring bikes, or even outfitted (as Sheldon Brown's was) with an internally-geared hub and used for commuting.
The components that came with the bike were not top-shelf, but were at least good for their time. The best of them, aside from the Brooks Professional saddle (Yes, it was original equipment on mine, though some PX-10s came with Ideale 90 saddles.) was probably the Stronglight 93 (63 on some earlier models) crankset. It was beautifully polished and could be outfitted with chainrings from 37 to 57 teeth. Mine came with 45 and 52, like most PX-10s of the era. The 93 was a light, stiff crankset: When I later got a Campagnolo Record for another bike, I couldn't detect any difference in rigidity. The only problem with the 93 or 63 was that it had a proprietary bolt circle diameter that wasn't compatible with Campagnolo or other high-end cranksets of the time. These days, if you need to replace a chainring on your 93 or 63, you have to go to a swap meet--or eBay.
The wheels were also of very good quality: Normandy Luxe Competition hubs with Mavic tubular rims (Some PX-10s came with Super Champion tubulars, which were equal in quality.) laced with Robergel spokes, the best available at the time. Of course, I would build another set of wheels--clinchers--on which I would do the majority of my riding.
I rode many happy hours and kilometers (Hey, it was a French bike!) on my PX-10. Like many other cyclists, I "graduated" to a more modern racing bike, and a touring bike and sold the PX-10. Still, it holds a special place in my cycling life as my first high-performance bike.
When I bought my Schwinn Continental, I saw a Peugeot PX-10 in the shop. I looked at its price tag: $250 seemed like sheer insanity for a bike to someone who'd saved the $96 cost of the Schwinn from a year of delivering newspapers in the hinterlands of New Jersey.
Somehow, though, I knew I was going to end up with that bike. As I wheeled my Continental out of the showroom of Michael's Bicycle Company (located next to a drive-in theater on Route 35 in Hazlet, NJ), I could feel the bike bug embedding its tentacles into my shins.
Well, about three years later, I got a PX-10 for $250--used. And it was three years older than the one I saw in the showroom.
It seems that almost everyone who came of age during the '70's Bike Boom rode a PX-10 at some point or another. For many of us, it was our first real racing bike: Bernard Thevenet won the 1975 and 1977 Tours de France on PX-10s that differed from the ones we bought only in that the stems and handlebars were changed to fit his physique.
Also, the great Eddy Merckx began his professional career astride a PX-10 for the BP-Peugeot team in the mid-1960's.
Although $250 seemed like a lot of money for a bike in 1972 (and was probably even more so in 1969, when the PX-10 I bought was built), it was actually quite a good value. First of all, the frame was built from Reynolds 531 tubing with Nervex lugs. While the level of finesse in the lugwork and paint wasn't up to what one would find on a bike from a French constructeur or a classic British builder, it was nothing to be ashamed of.
The chainstays, clearances and fork rake were all considerably longer than what would be found on later racing bikes. However, racing bikes at that time had to be more versatile, as roads, particularly in small towns and rural areas of Europe, were rougher: Some still hadn't been repaired after the bombings and shellings of World War II. Also, racers and trainers at the time believed that a rider should spend as much time as possible on the bike he plans to use in upcoming races. They also believed that, at least for road racing, outdoor training was superior to indoor, so the bikes were ridden all year long. They--yes, even Merckx himself--rode with fenders and wider tires during the winter.
The longer geometry and rather thin stays meant that while the frame gave a lively ride, it could be "whippy," especially for a heavy rider, in the rear. The flip-side of that, of course, was that the PX-10 gave a stable and comfortable ride in a variety of conditions. This is one reason why many PX-10s were re-purposed as light touring bikes, or even outfitted (as Sheldon Brown's was) with an internally-geared hub and used for commuting.
The components that came with the bike were not top-shelf, but were at least good for their time. The best of them, aside from the Brooks Professional saddle (Yes, it was original equipment on mine, though some PX-10s came with Ideale 90 saddles.) was probably the Stronglight 93 (63 on some earlier models) crankset. It was beautifully polished and could be outfitted with chainrings from 37 to 57 teeth. Mine came with 45 and 52, like most PX-10s of the era. The 93 was a light, stiff crankset: When I later got a Campagnolo Record for another bike, I couldn't detect any difference in rigidity. The only problem with the 93 or 63 was that it had a proprietary bolt circle diameter that wasn't compatible with Campagnolo or other high-end cranksets of the time. These days, if you need to replace a chainring on your 93 or 63, you have to go to a swap meet--or eBay.
The wheels were also of very good quality: Normandy Luxe Competition hubs with Mavic tubular rims (Some PX-10s came with Super Champion tubulars, which were equal in quality.) laced with Robergel spokes, the best available at the time. Of course, I would build another set of wheels--clinchers--on which I would do the majority of my riding.
I rode many happy hours and kilometers (Hey, it was a French bike!) on my PX-10. Like many other cyclists, I "graduated" to a more modern racing bike, and a touring bike and sold the PX-10. Still, it holds a special place in my cycling life as my first high-performance bike.
