A Honeycomb Or A Spider? From Huret?

When I first became passionate about cycling, the best frames--usually made from Reynolds 531 or Columbus SL tubing--featured intricately-cut lugs, like the ones made by Nervex:

Nervex lugs with extra-long tangs on a 1950 Mercian Vincitore

A good production frame like the Peugeot PX-10 would use Nervex lugs "as is"; custom frame builders might file them to even finer points, or make a cutout "window".  

A few builders even cut plain lugs into their own distinctive patterns. The British builders in particular were noted for their distinctive scrolls, trellises and other shapes and patterns.

During the mid to late 1970s, however, bicycle makers--even the small-production custom builders--shifted to plainer "spearpoint" lugs.  Sometimes those artisans filed them to elongate the "spear" or, as they did with Nervex lugs, cut a "window" in a particular shape, such as a heart, diamond or cloverleaf, into the body of the lug.

For all of the fancy lugwork, though, dropouts looked more or less the same.  Again, some custom or low-production builders filed them or did other finishing work to make their bikes all the more distinctive.  Still, because most high-quality dropouts looked so similar, there wasn't as much a builder could do to make that part of the bike stand out.

One notable exception this:

Is it a honeycomb?  Or a spiderweb?  Did Huret make it?

In 1974 and 1975, Gitane "Interclub" and "Tour de France" were made with this dropout.  A few other bikes--all of them French--also featured this unique frame fitting.  

Often called the "honeycomb" or "spiderweb" dropout, its provenance is somewhat mysterious.  It's usually referred to as a "Huret" dropout because the bikes that came with it always seemed to have Huret derailleurs attached to them. (Yes, even on Gitanes, which were notorious for coming with parts that were very different from the ones listed on catalogue spec tables!)  I could not, however, find this dropout in any Huret catalogue or brochure from 1974 or 1975--or, in fact, from 1969 through 1981.

From what I've gathered, it seems to be of good quality.  One discussion board says that it was cast, rather than forged as Huret's (as well as Campagnolo's) road dropouts were.  However it was made, the "honeycomb" or "spiderweb" seems to be robust, as no one seems to know of any that broke or otherwise failed.

Apart from its appearance, the "'comb" or "'web" had one other interesting--and useful--feature: without modification, it could accept Campagnolo, SunTour, Shimano and Simplex as well as Huret derailleurs.  This is particularly serendipitious for anyone who wants to outfit an Interclub or Tour de France frame with modern components.

Huret dropout

Nearly all dropouts made since the 1980s are patterned after Campagnolo, which has a 10mm threaded mounting hole and a "stop" on the underside, at the 7 o'clock position.  (SunTour and Shimano dropouts from the 1970s and 1980s were also made this way.)  A Huret dropout also has a 10mm threaded hole, but its "stop" is at the four o'clock position. 

Campagnolo dropout. Note the 'stop' at the 7 o'clock position, as opposed to the 4 o'clock position on the Huret.

What all of that means is that a Campagnolo derailleur will fit into a Huret dropout, but it might mount at a strange angle, which could impede its shifting.  A SunTour derailleur doesn't share this problem, as its angle-adjusting screw has a lot of range.  In fact, Schwinn Superiors from 1976 through 1979 came with SunTour derailleurs mounted on Huret dropouts.  So did some Motobecanes from that period.

On the other hand, some Huret derailleurs won't work on Campy dropouts at all.  Two different versions of the Jubilee were made:  one for Huret's own dropouts, the other for Campagnolo.  Other Huret models, like early versions of the Success and Duopar, would work with adapters Huret offered; later versions of those derailleurs were made only to fit Campagnolo-style dropouts, which had become the de facto standard.

Simplex dropout

Simplex dropouts, as opposed to the others, had a 9 millimeter unthreaded hole and no "stop".  If you want to use any other derailleur, you have to tap out the hole and grind a "stop":  a rather delicate procedure, especially if the dropout was chromed, as it was on many bikes.  Because SImplex derailleurs attached to the dropout with a recessed allen bolt that threaded into the derailleur's top pivot (in contrast to other derailleurs with top pivot bolts that threaded directly into the dropout), it could be used in a Campy dropout--with a "Class B" fit.

So...If you have a bike with the "honeycomb" or "spiderweb" dropouts, you have no reason to fear, at least according to everything I've read.  But, honestly, you know you like it for its looks, or at least its uniqueness.  They don't make them like that anymore!

Drawing Bicycles From Memory

In Bob Dylan's "Highlands", the narrator (presumably Dylan himself) wanders into a restaurant in Boston.  He is the only customer; the only other person there is the waitress.  

She says, "I know you're an artist, draw a picture of me."  

He responds:  "I would if I could, but I don't do sketches from memory."

Then she chides him, "I'm right here in front of you," but he continues to hedge.

Some would argue that all drawing (and writing and other creative and re-creative work) is done from memory.  After all, any thought, feeling or other experience becomes past--i.e., memory--the moment it happens.

I, too, have been asked to draw from memory and "in the moment".  I, too, find ways to hem, haw, hedge and politely decline.  Long ago, I realized that I am not that sort of artist:  When I displayed my sketches and paintings, I got a ticket for littering.

OK, so I made up that last story.  But, even with the meager talent I have for such things, I might have continued to paint and draw--from memory--had I known what has been confirmed in many studies:  Most people don't do any better than I did.  In fact, most do worse.

That point was illustrated (pardon the pun) once again when, a few years ago, an Italian designer Gianluca Gemini asked people to draw men's (diamond-frame) bikes from memory.  Most of their renditions bore, at best, only a passing (pun alert!) resemblance to anything anybody rode down the strada or through the piazza.  Recently, he decided to render some of those drawings into lifelike 3D pictures.
  

The participants in Gemini's study ranged in age from three to 88 and lived in seven different countries.  Across those generational and cultural divides, Gemini found some patterns, especially among genders.  For example, men tended to overcomplicate the frame when they realize they are not drawing it properly.

I want to meet the dude who came up with that.  What I find ironic is that for all of its sharp geometric lines--as if it were designed by Mondrian on crack cocaine--it actually looks good with "moustache" bars.  Also, the brown leather seat and handlebar tape lend it a certain elegance.

Speaking of elegant, here is a bike that reflects a female pattern

Interestingly, most of the front wheel-drive bikes (the ones with the chains and gears attached the front wheel) were drawn by women.  Gemini can't (or doesn't) offer an explanation.  

I very much like that bike--at least, its looks.  Had I more space and money, I'd have it made and use it for a wall hanging.  Heck, I might even ride it.  Put a Brooks brown saddle on it, and very few bikes would be lovelier.

Here's another bike from Gemini's study that caught my eye:

I mean, how can you not love a bike with track gearing, two fork assemblies, a wheelbase longer than the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge--and that yellow flag!

All right, I'll admit:  I really like the color:  a sort of periwinkle/lavender blue.  If you've been reading this blog, surely, you're not surprised.

Gemini's participants also came from a wide variety of occupations, including students and retirees.  Professional or employment status--or lack thereof--seemed to have little or no bearing on how realistic or whimisical participants' drawings came out.  The most "unintelligible" drawing, according to Gemini, was made by a doctor.  I wonder whether he or she is a surgeon!

Mommy Dearest Rides A Bike

Last year, I wrote about someone who was a BMX rider before there was BMX--or, at least, before anyone coined the term "bicycle motocross".

The moves of this rider could put those of even some of the most accomplished BMXers, never mind hipsters on fixies, to shame.  And said rider made those spins, twirls and climbs with a grace unmatched by just about anyone else--decades before David Mirra or Ryan Nyquist were even born.

This rider's unique style was partly a result of her training.  All right, I let it slip that the rider was a woman.  Moreover, she was at least twice the age of most BMX riders when she made those moves.

Lily Yokoi's best-known (at least to mainstream American audiences) performances were on episodes of The Ed Sullivan Show and another variety show called The Hollywood Palace.  The latter, which aired on 9 October 1965, was hosted by none other than Joan Crawford.

It's easy to assume that show was as close as Ms. Crawford came to a bicycle--unless you've seen this:

Of course, it's easy to dismiss that photo as staged or retouched.  For one thing, it doesn't have a very natural look. (Then again, "natural" wasn't considered a virtue when that image was made.)  For another, the image appeared among other photos of major Hollywood stars on or with bicycles. Those luminaries include Bing Crosby (and his sons in their letter sweaters), Bob Hope, Ronald Reagan and Jane Wyman (they were married then), Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall. 

I am talking about the 1946 Schwinn catalogue.  Why was there such an emphasis on glamor ?  My guess is that in the first post-war year, people wanted to be dazzled after the austerity that resulted from the war and the Great Depression that preceded it.  The "lightweight" bikes of that year, such as the Continental, seemed to emphasis their "European-ness", which was equated with elegance and sophistication.  In contrast, the wide, swooping curves, wide tires, lush chrome and flashy paint of Schwinn's (and other American bike makers') 1950s cruisers seemed baroque.

But I digress.  Turns out, "Mommie Dearest" wasn't just posing for a one-off photo.  While there are no accounts of her doing audaxes or races, she apparently got around on her bike.  Whatever her riding style, hardly anybody looked better!

As I understand, she was not the only Hollywood actor or performer who was riding in those days.  Some rode just because they liked it; others pedaled off the stresses and frustrations of working, as Jimmy Stewart would after spending hours in a wheelchair, with a fake cast on his leg, for Alfred Hitchcock's thriller Rear Window.