"Check" Out This SunTour Derailleur

When I first became a dedicated cyclist--more than four decades (!) ago--a common perception among cyclists was that "if it's good, it's from Europe".  Or, at least, it was built (as the Schwinn Paramount was) from European equipment such as Reynolds 531 tubing and Campagnolo components.

As I became more involved in cycling, that belief started to change, at first with derailleurs.  For many of us, one of our first revelations was shifting the SunTour or Shimano derailleur on someone's Fuji or Nishiki or even Vista. (Yes, a bike that was a cheap imitation of the Schwinn Varsity had a derailleur that shifted better than the ones on bikes costing five times as much!)  When we wore out or broke our Simplex Prestige, Huret Allvit or Campagnolo Valentino derailleurs, we replaced them with a Shimano or, more frequently, a SunTour model.  Sometimes we didn't wait:  We changed our derailleurs as quickly as we could.

From the time I outfitted my Schwinn Continental with a SunTour GT, I rode a number of different SunTour, and a few Shimano, derailleurs on my bikes.   And, because I worked in bike shops, I felt as if I had seen every model SunTour produced through the 1970s and '80s.  It seemed that the only cyclists who wouldn't ride Japanese derailleurs were those few who remained unconvinced of their superiority, or were simply snobs.  (The most expensive SunTour derailleurs typically sold for about as much as the least expensive Campagnolo models or mid-range offerings from other European makers--and shifted better.) The rest of us rode happily with our SunTour, and sometimes Shimano, derailleurs--sometimes on otherwise all-European bikes.

I used the iconic, successful SunTour derailleurs such as the Cyclone (first version and MK II), the V and Vx series and  the almost-otherworldly Superbe Pro. I also  saw the commercial and technical failures like the Superbe Tech L (the derailleur that started SunTour's downfall) and the ones which were well-designed and -made, but came along at the wrong time, like the S-1 (S100).   And I installed and adjusted any number of derailleurs like those of the AR series, which came on many bicycles during the 1980s.

I really thought I had seen them all--yes, including the "Love", "Hero" and "Chroma GX".  Today, however, I came across a SunTour derailleur I've never before seen.  

A seller in Poland listed it on eBay.  It could mean that the "Checker" was sold only in Europe or other markets.  Or, perhaps, that it was so short-lived that only a few found their way into other countries.  

At first glance, it looks rather like the SunTour AR II of the early 1980s.  At least, it has a similar main parallelogram and knuckles, though the Checker's body is closer to the mounting bolt than the AR's.  Also, it has a cable mounting outside the parallelogram, instead of the inside-the-parallelogram mounting of the AR (which I never liked, apart from its looks).  And the finish looks similar.

I am guessing, though, that the Checker--for which I couldn't find any information--was made later than the AR series because the Checker is made to be used with SunTour's indexed gearing systems, which weren't yet made at the time the ARII was produced.

With a name like "checker", though, I have to wonder what its intended purpose was.  A retro pedi-cab, perhaps?  A Peugeot?  Or maybe it was intended to rhyme with the name of another derailleur.  That would make for quite the slogan:  Checker The Pecker!

Would You Sit On A Bike--Or In A Class--Like This?

I am a cyclist.  I also happen to be an educator.  

As we all know, there are some people who will never, ever ride, no matter how much you tell show them that you don't have to be an athlete, wear special clothes or even ride any particular type of bicycle, and that they can start with a ride to the store, to the park or any other place within a couple of kilometers of their homes.

Likewise, I see plenty of students who have no desire to learn--or, at least, to learn whatever I'm teaching.  I can make writing and literature at least somewhat interesting for some people who have no particular inclination or aptitude for such things. But there are those who simply resent being in my classes:  Why do I have to take this course to be a radiology technician?  How is this going to help me design games?  In my country, when you went to school for nursing, you took just nursing courses--not all of these other classes!

I have long suspected that some people have an experience, or experiences, that turn them away from cycling or learning.  For the latter, it could be a particularly harsh or simply unhelpful teacher at a time when they were struggling with the classwork--or with some other issue in their lives.  As for cycling, a fall at a young age or having to ride a bike that was uncomfortable--or simply feeling awkward--killed any wish to ride they might have had.

Today, someone sent me something that just might be enough to destroy someone's desire to learn (or teach) and ride a bike:

I mean, tell me:  Would you want to ride a bike--or be in a class--that was so designed?

A colleague found this "infographic" in an Education (yes, with a capital E) journal.  It figures. 

Cycling The Fall On The North Shore

Perhaps the fall is inevitable, which is exactly the reason some people live as if it will never happen to them.

Sometimes I think that is one of the messages of The Great Gatsby.  Though the novel was written, and take place, in the 1920s, a line from Prince is fitting:  party like it's 1999.

I got to thinking about Gatsby and what the fall means today because, while riding, I saw this:

and this:

along the North Shore, from Queens into Long Island and back.  

You know the old riddle:  If a tree falls in the woods and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?  Well, perhaps someone posed a parallel question:  If trees lose their leaves and nobody sees it, will the fall come?

Jay Gatsby, having grown up on a farm and aspired to the high life, probably never looked at a tree once he left the farm.   I doubt any of the other characters in that novel looked at very many trees or gave much thought to the changing of the season, whether in nature or their lives.

But fall comes to their North Shore playgrounds, just as it comes everywhere else.  For me, it made for a lovely, pleasant ride, one in which I didn't mind that I was pedaling into, or getting sideswiped by, brisk winds, or that as I rode along the water, the temperature dropped (or seemed to drop) to levels for which I wasn't dressed.

Today it was Vera's turn to enjoy the season.  She was dressed for the occasion.  Then again, she always looks right for the ride. So do my other Mercians.  

They have no reason to fear the fall. Nor do I.