Time was, not long ago, when one "graduated" from riding a bicycle. In the US, that usually happened (and, sometimes, still happens) when someone gets his or her driver's license.
In much of the world, though, people have left their bicycles behind when they moved up on the socio-economic ladder--or when automobiles and petrol became more affordable. Some of the newly-affluent (or middle-class) have continued to cycle for recreation, but for the most part, new motorists distance themselves from motorless two-wheeled vehicles in much the same way they might try to get as far away from the slums and working-class districts in which they had been living.
The phenomenon I've just described happened with increasing frequency in Europe: It seemed that I saw fewer and fewer cyclists on each trip I took from 1980 until 2001. Lately, though, there's been a resurgence in cycling, mainly among young people,in northern European cities like Amsterdam and Copenhagen. In the Danish capital, people who can easily afford the high auto and petrol prices choose to cycle because it's easier to navigate the city's traffic on two wheels, and because it's a way to de-stress.
We are also seeing people cycle because they can, though perhaps on a lesser scale, in some North American cities like Portland, San Francisco, New York and Montreal. However, in urban areas of emerging countries like China, the bicycle is still seen as something one escapes from, rather than on: In Beijing in particular, automobiles are signs of prosperity and two wheels spin in a cycle of downward mobility.
However, there are still parts of the world in which the bicycle can be a vehicle out of poverty, so to speak. One such place is East Africa, where New York-based Bicycles Against Poverty sells bicycles to local people on installment plans matched to their circumstances and conducts repair workshops, among other things.
The best part, though, is that BAP engages with local communities by buying bicycles from Roadmaster, a Ugandan manufacturer--and, best of all, training local staff to conduct workshops and in financial management. Bicycle distribution is determined by the answers received on applications; as the organization's website says, BAP "aims to strike a balance between an individual's need for a bicycle and their (sic) ability to pay for it".
It will be interesting to see where this model leads those who buy the bikes. One cause for optimism is that the BAP model seems to avoid the colonial paternalism of too many aid programs, which almost invariably leads to mismanagement and corruption. Will that lead local people to develop their own sustainable communities? Or will prosperity lead them away from the bicyles?
Yesterday I wrote about what may have been the most jewel-like bicycle component I ever rode: the Huret Jubilee rear derailleur.
Today I'm going to write about the part that might be a close second in the beauty contest. I mentioned them in yesterday's post: Simplex "retrofriction" levers--in particular, the "teardrop"-shaped ones.
Most retrofriction levers in that shape were made to fit brazed-on lever bosses. I rode with those levers on several of my bicycles, including the Colnago Arabesque and Miyata 912. The levers were also available in other configurations, including a "coke spoon" version made for Gipiemme.
Simplex also made the levers in other shapes and colors for Mavic, Galli and other component manufacturers. And, of course, there was the original version, which was usually attached to a clamp but was also available to fit braze-ons:
Although they all functioned in the same way, the Gipiemmes might have offered the best hand-feel. (I am only guessing, as I never tried them myself.) But whatever their shape, they offered the smoothest action of any lever I've ever used. That is because they had a spring-clutch mechanism on the inside that kept the lever from slipping (and, thus, the derailleur from shifting accidentally) but allowed a shift with a lighter touch than was needed for other levers.
Campagnolo and other friction levers, on the other hand, relied on nylon bushings and D-shaped screws to hold them in place--which made them more balky to shift. The ratcheted SunTour levers were like Simplex's retrofrictions in that they,too, stayed in place when they weren't shifted but were easy to shift. However, they had a clunkier feel and it was a bit harder to fine-tune shifts on them in much the same way that a one-bolt seatpost with notches is more difficult to adjust to exactly the right seat angle than one without notches, or a two-bolt post.
So, SunTour's "power" shifters tended (at least in my experience) to work better with wide-range slant-pantogaph derailleurs on which only the lower pivot was sprung like the SunTour's VGT or Cyclone GT. On the other hand, Simplex's more nuanced action seemed to work well with just about every derailleur, with narrow-range racing or wide-range touring gears. But they seemed especially well-suited to derailleurs that required smaller amounts of cable travel, such as the SunTour Cyclone S and Superbe, Campagnolo Record--and, of course, the Simplex Super LJ.
And, oh, yes, the Huret Jubilee. It and the retrofriction levers seemed to go together like croissants and coffee. The original Jubilee levers were made with a large drum that pulled too much cable for the Jubilee, which caused it to overshift. Later, Huret made a lever with a smaller drum that was intended for both the Jubilee and the titanium Success rear derailleur. But Huret's lever operated on friction, so Simplex's shifter was smoother.
If I were going to set up a bike with friction shifting, I'd definitely want the retrofriction levers. However, that would mean using no more than seven cogs in the rear: what made them so pleasant to use with derailleurs like the Jubilee is the small drum, which cuts down on the amount of cable the levers can wrap up. In other words, even pulling the lever all the way back probably won't get it to shift onto an 8th cog. (At least, it didn't on my bikes.)
But, of course, if I wanted to choose components purely on aesthetics, I would choose the Simplex retrofriction levers--and Huret Jubilee rear derailleur.
When you get to be my age, you realize that had you saved the stuff you wore in your youth, you could sell it today as "vintage." It seems that some people are trying to do the same thing with bike parts. I find myself shouting things they don't teach you in French 101 whenever a Craigslist or eBay listing refers to a Simplex Prestige derailleur as "rare" or "vintage."
Whenever I see that testament to French plastic technology--or the Campagnolo Gran Turismo with its scimitar-like cage or the Huret Luxe Super Touring, which looked like a disjointed crane's neck made from steel plates--I think, "They don't make them like that anymore--Thank God!" If those things are "vintage", I'm all for the present and the future
But there are a few no-longer-made components that can be called "vintage" without making me wince. Such parts are, of course, sought out by collectors or even still used on everyday riders. Such parts were not only "good for their time" but still are valid today because they have some feature or another that today's stuff lacks.
Sometimes that factor is aesthetic. Let's face it: Most bikes and parts from the past look better than almost anything made by anyone besides a custom builder or small-scale manufacturer today. I admit that there are some things I own and ride for that reason alone. But some of those same bikes and parts--and others--are designed in ways that are more practical or versatile, or simply "made better", than what you can buy today.
And, believe it or not, some old parts are actually lighter. A case in point is the Huret Jubilee rear derailleur.
I actually owned and rode two--a short-cage and a long-cage version-- for a number of years. I raced, toured and even did some "rough stuff" on them. And I even took a tumble or two on them.
My short-cage Jubilee adorned my Cannondale racing bike for a few months. Then it graced my Colnago Arabesque--on which I raced and trained and did a number of long rides--for another half-dozen years. I rode the long-cage version for a couple of years on a Bianchi that I turned into a light tourer, then on my Miyata 912.
On all of those bikes I shifted the Jubilee with what is, to my mind, the best non-indexed lever ever made: the Simplex retrofriction. And I had the "teardrop" version--to my eye, the prettiest shift lever in history--on the Cannondale and Colnago.
With those levers, the Jubilee shifted quite well, especially given the standards of the time. It wasn't quite as easy or accurate as the SunTour Cyclone (or, for that matter, anything in SunTour's "V" series). But I actually preferred the Jubilee to any other manufacturer's (besides SunTour's) top-of-the-line derailleur. For one thing, it shifted as well--or, at least, not noticeably worse than--the Campagnolo Record series, Simplex LJ or Shimano Crane. To be more precise, the Jubilee shifted about as quickly and perhaps a bit more accurately, and definitely more smoothly, than any of those mechanisms.
I bought my first (short-cage) Jubilee from Frank Chrinko, the proprietor of Highland Park Cyclery, where I worked for a time. He thought well of them (and used the Success, Huret's other high-end derailleur) and said he hadn't noticed any problems among the (admittedly few) customers who used them. On the other hand, I heard horror stories about how if you looked at it the wrong way, it would explode into a million little pieces. Such fears, I found, were greatly exaggerated: Both of my Jubilees survived falls and continued to work as well as they had been working.
I think that Jubilees lasted longer than many people expected precisely because they were so minimalist: There weren't as many ways it could be struck or snagged. That is the reason why, interestingly, a few early mountain bikers and some cyclo-cross riders used it.
The Jubilee also holds the distinction of being one of the few rear derailleurs that was completely disassemblable for cleaning and maintenance. Huret actually offered spare parts, though they weren't easy to find (at least in the US). I'll admit that, once disassembled, it wasn't the easiest thing to put back together, especially if you didn't have a diagram (which was even harder to find than the spare parts).
So how did the Jubilee get its name? Huret was founded in 1920 and in 1970 decided to celebrate by creating the lightest derailleur ever made. They succeeded--the short-cage version weighed only 140 grams (the long-cage version weighed 157). Ironically, the later "drillium" version was five grams heavier!
The Jubilee was first introduced in 1972 (the same year as the Simplex Super LJ and SunTour VGT) and found its way to the US a couple of years later. The Motobecane Grand Jubile came equipped with it and other high-quality French components; so did the Raleigh Competition. In 1974-5, Raleigh's two-steps-up-from-entry-level Super Course, with a frame that had straight-gauge Reynolds 531 in its main tubes, came with a version of the Jubilee that fitted to the non-forged dropout with a "claw" hanger. From what I heard in bike shops at the time, Raleigh was trying to offer the lightest bicycle available at its price point (about $175 at the time), and the Jubilee shaved those few grams that gave the bike its edge over whatever the next-lightest bike was in its price category.
Sachs took over Huret in the early 1980s and continued to produce the Jubilee until the end of the decade. Later versions bore the Sachs-Huret logo, and later simply "Sachs", in the black-and-gold badge that sported the Huret name in the familiar cursive lettering for so long.
Late in the 1980s, Sachs (which had also taken over French component makers Maillard and Sedis) became part of SRAM. It seems that around that time, the Jubilee was discontinued as all of the SRAM-Sachs derailleurs were modeled after the Shimano models with slant paralellogram bodies and two sprung pivots.
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