You've Probably Used Them, But Nobody Talks (Or Writes) About Them: Lyotard Pedals

If you have been cycling for a while, chances are that you've ridden at least one pair of Lyotard pedals.  Perhaps you still are.



All Peugeots, and most other French bikes that weren't equipped with Campagnolo components, came with one Lyotard model or another as standard equipment.  Even a few Campy-equipped bikes had Lyotard pedals--at least, one particular model I'll mention in a minute.

Lyotards were also found on bikes from other countries---yes, even a few from Japan, which probably has had more pedal-makers than any other nation.  There is a good reason why Lyotards were so common:  They offered a wide range of intelligently-designed products, and they offered good quality at a reasonable price.
 

No. 460

The three most popular models were probably the Nos. 460, 136R and 23.

No. 460 en bleu

No. 460 was an alloy double-sided, sawtoothed "rat trap" pedal popular with Cyclo-Cross riders, cyclo-tourists and bicycle commuters. They were usually silver, but for a time were offered with blue, red or black anodizing.  The 136 was a less-expensive steel pedal with curvy plates that often had reflectors built into them. It was standard equipment for many years on the Peugeot U0-8, Motobecane's Nobly and Mirage, and other lower-priced French machines popular during the '70's Bike Boom.

No.136R

 
But Lyotard's most iconic product was probably the No. 23, also known as the Marcel Berthet pedal.  You've probably seen the 23, if you haven't used it yourself:  It's the one with the flat platform and the "tongue" that makes toe clip entry easier.  It's the pedal that inspired the MKS GR-9, GR-10 and Urban Platform pedals, as well as White Industries' amazing Urban Platform pedals.

No. 23, a.k.a. Marcel Berthet

It's no surprise, really, that the 23 would inspire other pedals:  It is among the most elegant pieces of cycling equipment ever made.  And, oh yes, it's comfortable and is still a relatively light pedal, especially for one constructed entirely from steel. For those reasons, and for its cornering clearance, it was sometimes found on otherwise all-Campagnolo bikes.

No. 45

Lyotard started to make pedals in 1921 and continued until 1992 or thereabouts.  The qualities I've mentioned--good value for the money and a wide range--are probably what kept the company in business for seven decades.  However, they, like many other French component makers (such as Simplex), failed to innovate or even update their lineup.  Cheaper Asian imports took away much of the market share the 136--and, to a lesser extent, the 460-- held.  The Berthet/No.23 was seen as a "cult" item, and the development of easy-to-use clipless pedals from Look and Time all but ended the demand for high-quality traditional pedals, which included the No. 45: the pedal that came with the Peugeot PX-10.

PL 2000

Lyotard finally came out with a clipless pedal, the PL 2000, in 1989, half a decade after Look first came to market.  I don't know anyone who actually used the PL 2000, but the design looks interesting.  Essentially, the pedal is really just an axle with a spring-loaded cap on the end opposite the pedal threads.  The cleat had a groove into which the axle fit when the rider "clipped in"; the spring-loaded cap held the rider's foot onto the pedal.  The rider would slide her or his foot outward to push the spring-loaded cap aside and disengage her or his foot from the pedal.

For all I know, it may have worked very well.  And, if nothing else, it was probably a very light weight pedal.  But I have to wonder how (un)comfortable it was:  Look and Time pedals at least have something resembling platforms that provide more surface contact area.

Also, Lyotard's cleat was proprietary.  You couldn't mount it on a shoe drilled for Look or other cleats that were using Look's three-bolt mounting system, which quickly became the standard for road clipless pedals.

Even if Lyotard's system had caught on, it might not have been enough to save a company with one of the longest histories in cycling.  But at least its legacy lives on in some pedals produced today:  the Berthet/No.23 has directly inspired the MKS and White Industries pedals I've mentioned and, perhaps indirectly, almost any pedal designed with aerodynamics (or pretentions thereof) in mind.  Such pedals would include most road clipless pedals. And the MKS Sylvan --very popular with tourists and commuters--echoes, in many ways, the 460.

Guest Post: Some Come Some Go, A Few Come Back

Some blogs have more readers.  But mine are the best.

To prove that statement is not just an idle boast, I'm going to give today's post to one of those readers.  

If you've been reading this blog, you may also have noticed that one of my more frequent commenters is "Steve A."  He has an excellent blog of his own, DFW Point-to-Point.  In today's post he's going to talk about his experience as a bike blog reader and writer, the bike blogs that have come and gone and some other things he's observed in the decade or so that this genre has existed and in several more decades of cycling.

The Man Himself

So, without further ado, I give you over to Steve:



Some Come Some Go, A Few Come Back
                                              --by Steve A. 

 

I must say I've enjoyed Justine's blog for a few years now. It started not long after my own, about five years ago, but she's been more diligent about posting ever new and interesting topics. In no particular order, I tend to like posts about Mercians (I actually keep my eye open for one nowadays), vintage (I know some readers have a more recent view of "vintage" than Justine and I do) equipment, and some of the less well-known places around New York that I've heard of only here.

During that time, we've both seen many blogs come and go. Recently. I've tended to use her blogroll as a supplement to my own. Lucky for us that our tastes in what to read seem to complement each other rather than strictly duplicate things. Over the time our blogs have been around, I've seen many blogs disappear. I'm sure Justine can think of quite a few as well. I've also seen quite a few pop up and then poop out. Some, like Lovely Bicycle, have become VERY popular and some have simply stayed popular, like Bike Snob NYC. I'm not really sure what possesses people to write blogs. Myself, it's somewhat like a journal used to be. I think Justine works harder. Lord knows where she digs up some of the ancient items I've seen here.

Anyway, as I'm sure she'll agree, we have SERIOUS political differences. For example, I have never been a fan of Chicago Schwinns and I'm otherwise an agnostic about Asia versus Europe versus the USA. I guess that's why I have a Frankenbike. On the other hand, I tend to be a bit more of a drop-bar purist. I guess that's what one gets for growing up with Sloane's book. Still, I like to recall the Rodney King quote of "Can't we all just get along?"

Justine made a number of suggestions. Looking at them, I guess I mostly ignored them in this post, instead thinking about them interminably. HOWEVER, I DID pay attention to them. For example, I've got a book about cycling and traffic planning on order through our local inter-library loan. As a teaser, the author notes that "BoB" (Bikes on Buses) did NOT originate with cycling advocates, but rather found favor with low-traffic bus routes in places like Texas. Hmm.

Still, this is rather an unusual time. You see, TWO blogs seem to have popped back to life this week. They CAME BACK! I had them both in my "hibernation" area, but I saw new signs of life here. I guess some people just have faith. Those are "Rat Trap Press" and "Biking in Heels." I hope that this is some new, early sign of Spring. We shall see.

P.S. Just before I posted this, Steve hastened to add:  "My opposition to American Schwinns does not extend to Paramounts!"

Into The Fold: Bickerton

Mention folding bicycles today, and the first name that comes to most people's minds is Dahon.   Discerning (or rich) cyclists would probably mention Brompton.  

Those of us who came of age during or before the '70's Bike Boom recall the Raleigh Twenty and similar bikes made by Peugeot and other European manufacturers.  For a few days, I owned an Italian-made Chiorda from that era.

Interestingly, "folders" may be the one genre of bicycles not made by Japanese manufacturers of that time. At least, I don't recall any from Fuji, Nishiki or any of the other bike-builders from the Land of the Rising Sun.

One of the most interesting folding bikes of all--at least for its time--is almost entirely forgotten now.  However, it might be said to be the forerunner of today's folding bikes.  Andrew Ritchie said the bike I'm going to talk about was his inspiration in designing the first Brompton bicycle.

Harry Bickerton was one of those eccentric tinkerers who so often come from England.  He worked as an engineer at Rolls-Royce and De Havilland. In 1968, a driving ban made his commute difficult.  Dissatisified with using his road bike and the best folding bike he could find, he set out to combine the best features of the two.

The result was patented four years later.  It could fit into a shopping bag and, best of all, weighed only 17 pounds--less than almost any road, or even track, bike available at that time.

He achieved the feat with a hinge he developed that remained relatively rigid when the bike was opened up--and by constructing the frame from aluminum.  Also, most of the components were made from aluminum alloy--in contrast to the all-steel folding bikes from Raleigh and other makers--and the handlebars were made to be folded relatively easily.

Notice that I used the word "relatively".  In comparison to other folding mechanisms of the time, Bickerton's worked more smoothly and reliably.  However, it had to be handled with care.  As Tom Cuthbertson wryly noted, the manual that came with the bikes was one of the greatest pieces of instructional literature ever written because it had to be. 

Perhaps the most unique feature of the bike, though was that there were no welds or brazes anywhere in the frame.  Rather, it was constructed from aluminum profiles fitted together. 

Like other aluminum bikes that preceded Klein and Cannondale, the Bickerton is an example of a "flexible flyer".  Or, at least, a flexible magic carpet.  People who rode Bickertons almost always said they were great as long as you didn't mind the flex.  

I never rode a "Bickie" myself, but I suspect that its flexibility gave it more ability to absorb shock than other small-wheeled bikes.  I would guess that if you rode into one of those potholes with its own Zip Codes that we have in some parts of New York, you might have more chance of coming out of it without the mishap I incurred on my Dahon.

Perhaps the Bickerton's floppy qualities made it less durable, and might be a reason why so few can be found today.  Production stopped in 1989 and the factory closed in 1991, but bikes bearing the family name are being made in Taiwan for a company headed by Harry's son Mark.  The new Bickertons look a heck of a lot like Dahons.

Bickerton has a distributor in Mexico but not in the US.  Hmm...I wonder whether Dahon has anything to do with that.