Today, in one of the college's bike racks, I saw something interesting:
I apologize that I couldn't get take a better photo. But, as you can see, it's a small-wheeled bike that doesn't have a folding or collapsible frame. It seems like a variant on the "Shopper" bike, which Bobbin and a few other companies have re-introduced during the last couple of years.
The medium-wide semi-slick tires are what one might expect to see on a city bike. And the bike's low profile makes for quick mounting and dismounting. Those features were common on the "shopper" bikes Raleigh and a few other English companies made during the 1960's and 1970's. Those bikes were very popular in Albion, but didn't seem to find much of an audience anywhere else. I think one reason may be that, in the US at any rate, people equated the small wheels with folding or children's bikes.
The bike in the photo differs slightly from those bikes, and from the Bobbin "shopper" I saw at Adeline's and in last year's New Amsterdam bike show. For one thing, the Bobbin, like the classic "shopper," comes with an internally-geared hub, while the bike in the photo has a rear derailleur with six speeds. Also, the Bobbin and the older bikes had fenders, chainguards and lights: They looked rather like classic three-speeds with smaller wheels and a somewhat tighter geometry.
Also, the bike in the photo has white(!) rims and chain. Could the maker (I could find only a "C" logo) be trying to appeal to hipsters? Even if that's the intent, I think it's an interesting bike. I was surprised to see it parked at the college. Then again, it might be just the right bike for a lot of student commuters or for students on residential campuses. In other words, it just might become a "collegiate" bike.
One day, I was talking with someone I admired as an artist and took as a kind of spiritual adviser. (I was young then.) I asked her what she wanted most.
I was expecting something deep and profound--or, at least, something that would have sounded deep and profound to me back then. (I think it was around the time I read Herman Hesse's Steppenwolf and Siddhartha.) Here's what she said:
A simple life and innocent times.
Now, at the time I thought neither was possible--and, that, in fact, they were marketing tropes. Yep, you can live the simple life if you can afford it, and you can have innocent times if your world is, well, a simple place. The truth is, of course, that I never could have had innocent times because I wasn't so innocent and times were never simple because I was simpler than I was willing to acknowledge.
But I digress. For the first time in decades, I thought of that encounter when I stumbled across this photo:
I can just imagine unrolling what's strapped to the saddle and unfurling myself on it, in a field where I might fill the basket on the front of the bike:
I guess there are actually people who live that way. Goddess bless 'em. (Hey, changing genders turned me into a feminist!)
Both photos come from the lovely blog A Serene Life For Me.
What if Salvador Dali were hired to design a bike frame--and he only did the top tube?
The result might look something like this:
I had never before seen such a frame sporting Bianchi logos. But now that I think of it, I'm not surprised. The Bianchi in the photo was made in Japan for Bianchi during the 1980's. Back then, the most famous Italian bicycle manufacturer was rebranding bikes built by Panasonic, Bridgestone and, it was rumoried, Miyata, for the US market.
When you look at this Panasonic closely, you realize why Bianchi made such a move. During the 1970's and early 1980's, Japanese makers like the ones I've mentioned, and Fuji and Nishiki, took over much of the entry- and mid-level market for road and touring bikes in the US. There were good reasons for that: The Japanese companies were offering better bikes for the money than most of their European and American rivals. Their quality control was more consistent: Highland Park Cyclery sold Miyata and Panasonic when I worked there, and I don't recall having to return one for a defect. On the other hand, I saw braze-ons break off a Peugeot and Treks that had miscut threads and wheels that didn't hold up for very long.
Perhaps the biggest "draw" of Japanese bikes was that their drivetrains usually shifted more accurately and (a major selling point with new cyclists) more easily than those on their European counterparts. The Panasonic in the second photo was the lowest-level ten-speed bike the company offered at the time, but its Shimano derailleur outshifted all but the very top models made in Europe at the time. The BIanchi is a few levels up from the Panasonic, and its Shimano gears were more accurate and less fussy, I would submit, than any others--except for the ones made by Sun Tour.
Of course, BIanchi would not be the only company to re-brand Japanese bikes for sale in the US. Some of the most famous examples of such bikes were the "Voyageur" and "LeTour" lines Schwinn sold; Raleigh, Peugeot and other companies would also offer bikes from the Land of the Rising Sun. Other companies, like Motobecane, would continue to make bikes in their home countries but equip them with Japanese derailleurs, freewheels and cranksets--and, later, other components--for American cyclists.
But not all of those companies offered bikes with the frame design of the BIanchi and Panasonic you see in this post. In fact, frames with top tubes so shaped were made for only a few years, or so it seemed. A couple of years ago, Trek revived a modified version of it on their "Belleville" city/porteur bike:
I have never ridden a bike with such a configuration, but I can see the benefit of it, particularly for cyclists with disproportionately short legs. I would think that people who, for other reasons, want a frame that offers more clearance than the traditional diamond design but don't want something more rigid or stable than a traditional women's, or even a mixte, frame would also like such a design.
Here's what I always wondered: If you buy one of those bikes, do you get a watch with it? Or a bike computer: Imagine if Salvador Dali designed those!
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