A Bike Spanner That Isn't Raleigh

If you bought a Raleigh bicycle before the 1970s, it might have come with this:

Even if you have never owned a Raleigh, there's a good chance that you've come across the Raleigh spanner (or what Yanks call "wrench").  You might even have one.  I did, for a long time.  I don't know whether I loaned it and never got it back, or simply lost it.

Anyway, Raleigh wasn't the only British bike maker to offer a spanner.  Check out this, from Claud Butler:

Like Raleigh's tool, the Claud Butler spanner has a hooked end for a bottom bracket lock ring.  I am guessing that the
hex side of the wrench fit the bottom bracket cup--or, possibly, the headset.  In the 1960s--when, it seems, the tool in the photo was made--if a customer bought a frame, it was as often as not supplied with those components.

Claud Butler is long gone, and bikes under his name, and Holdsworth, have been made by other British bicycle manufacturers for some time.  CB also offers a line of tools similar to those of other bike manufacturers, but when Claud was still alive, they had their own discrete line, which were probably made by Cyclo or some other Birmingham bike parts company.

A Ride, A Reflection

I have just taken an easy ride through the heart of Queens, to the far end of the borough and the near end of Nassau County.  It's Sunday, and the blaze autumn colors will soon turn into the ashes of fall, the foreshadowings of winter. 

I think I took the ride more for the opportunity to reflect on a few things than I did to exert myself physically.  I do that sometimes, especially at this time of year.  For me, there is something paradoxically clear and benevolent at the same time about the nip in the air and the light of days growing shorter.

There have been seasons that ended with my wishing that I had ridden more, harder or to different places.  I feel no such yearnings now.  Of course, having the opportunity to cycle in Florida, Paris and Montreal, as well as taking rides from my place to Connecticut and various points in New Jersey and Long Island has given me kaleidoscope of images to take with me through the winter.  I don't plan to stop cycling: I never do that except, perhaps, for physical injuries or ailments (which, thankfully, I don't experience often) or when there's a lot of ice on the streets, as there was through much of last winter.  But, realistically, I know that I won't cycle as much between, say, Thanksgiving and March or whenever the weather breaks.


Today I was satisfied, no, I was happy with the riding I did this year.  Perhaps I could have ridden even more, but I don't wish that I did.  I also don't wish that I had the strength and stamina I did when I was younger.  Well, all right, I'd like to have those things, but I know I don't need them to keep on riding, to continue my journey.

From Health Unlocked

As I rode today, I was thinking about a particular ride I took many, many years ago.  I had taken the day off from working as a messenger, hopped onto my Peugeot PX-10E and pedaled across the bridge, up and down ridges, and back up some old mining roads in the Watchung Mountains. The cloud cover was not a shawl that kept the ridges and cliffs warm and forgetful; rather, it seemed to keep the chill and ashen tones of the coming winter all around, and within, me.  

I had, in not much more than a year, experienced the deaths of two of my closest (emotionally and spiritually) relatives and the suicide of a friend.  There was nothing to do but pedal up that steep mining road; it could have been the last thing I did; I wanted it to be; there would be no wishes, no regrets left.

But no matter how hard I pedaled or how fast I ascended that hill, the young man I was could not have met up with the woman I am now.  If he could have, I would have told him that he would be OK, he is riding, he is on his journey, it was all that mattered.  

In short, I could not have understood what it would be like to have taken the ride I have taken to where I am now. 

Pete On His Feet

In an earlier post, I wrote about one of the great paradoxes of sports:  Some countries, particularly in Europe, that are cycling hotbeds are also powerhouses in what they call "football" or Americans call "soccer".  Yet one never sees anyone who competes--at least at a high level--in both sports.  That is all the more perplexing when one realizes that the skills and training for both sports are, in some many ways, similar.

In that post from a year and half ago, I posited that some of the reasons why the twain rarely, if ever, meet between the worlds of cycling and football because their seasons are more or less concurrent, both sports require intensive training to the exclusion of almost everything else (at least, if one wants to compete at an elite level) and that cyclists, even when they ride for teams, are competing mainly for individual honors while football is all about the team.

Peter Sagan of Slovakia is one of cycling's great young talents:  Just a few weeks ago, the 25-year-old won the men's road race of the UCI championships.  He has also won the points classification of the Tour de France and other races, and has a number of stage victories.  Not many people would be surprised, I think, if he wins the Tour--or the Giro d'Italia, Vuelta a Espana or other major multi-stage races over the next few years.

More surprising might be a switch to a professional football career.  Or would it?



 

A Late Summer Ride In November: No Sweat!

Today was a very strange day, weather-wise.  When I got out of bed at 7:30 am, it was already 20C (68F).  The normal afternoon high temperature  at this time of year is around 15C (60F).  By mid-afternoon, we had a high of 25C (77F).

What made it all even stranger is that in the morning, the rain that had fallen in the wee hours dripped and slicked all over everything.  Most of the day remained overcast, although there was no real threat of rain.  The sun peeked out briefly about three and a half hours into my ride, but it pulled the blanket of clouds across its face almost as soon as I saw it. I have often ridden, happily, in such conditions in coastal areas in the US and Europe.  

The sun peeked out briefly about three and a half hours into my ride, but it pulled the blanket of clouds across its face almost as soon as I saw it.  The combination of warmth--more typical of early or mid September--and cloud cover could have made for very sticky conditions.  However, even on a 125 km (75 mile), about a third of which consisted of sequences of climbs with very little flat or straight stretches between them, I wasn't sweating--or drinking water--very much.  And I didn't feel tired, in the middle, late in the ride, or in the end.

Perhaps I was energized by the light I saw:  the trees and bushes radiated their autumnal colors, just past their peak in upper Westchester County, against a gray sky particular to November, I feel:  aging, like the earth beneath it, and  rather melancholy, but not oppressive. 

Now that I think of it, that might have been the reason why I sweated so little, in spite of the climbing and heat:  When the late summer sky is shrouded with thick cumulus clouds on a late summer day, you can still feel the intensity of the sun, and of the heat that almost everything seems to absorb after several weeks of summer. But, even if the sun had shown itself more today, I don't think it would have drained me, and my waterbottle:  It would have been less intense, and it would not have been aided by the the ground, streets and other things that absorb its heat in the "dog days".

Of course, I might have just felt really, really good to be on Arielle, my Mercian Audax, again after riding to and from work all week on my LeTour.  

How Rattraps Became Beartraps---In 1899

Last week, I wrote about "rattrap" pedals.  They were the kind of pedals that came on most '70's Bike Boom-era ten-speeds, and have continued to enjoy popularity with cyclo-tourists, motocross riders and commuters. The great advantages of them are that they can be used with or without toeclips, and ridden on either side (unlike most quill and road clipless pedals, which must be flipped to the right side).  As I mentioned, two of the most popular models of rat-traps are the Lyotard 460 (which hasn't been made in at least two decades) and the MKS Sylvan.

Road "quill" pedals, which were all but displaced by the advent of easy-to-use clipless pedals from Look and Time, would sometimes have the "sawteeth" on the side of the pedal on which the cyclist pedaled.  The other side was usually cut away, and thus unrideable.  They were so made to improve cornering clearance, a definite concern for criterium and track riders.

(Track pedals usually had cages like those of road "quill" pedals, without the "quill".)

Famous examples of road quill pedals are the Campagnolo Record and its many imitators, and Lyotard 45. 

Double-sided quill pedals were all but nonexistent until around 1980.  At that time, the cults of BMX and mountain biking were spreading beyond their respective Southern and Northern California cradles.  That was also about the time equipment was being developed specifically for those new disciplines.



SunTour BMX pedals, circa 1980

Possibly the nicest double-sided quill came from  SunTour.  They had the same bearings, axles and bodies as SunTour's wonderful track and road pedals, which were made by MKS.  (The "Supreme" and "Nuevo" pedals, currently made by MKS, are virtual clones of the pedals made for SunTour.)  Some of the early mountain bikes came with those pedals; "bear trap" pedals, developed soon after, were essentially BMX pedals with curved plates.

SunTour "bear trap" pedals, circa 1985

When double-sided quill pedals first appeared on the market, many of us wondered why no one had ever thought to make them earlier.  Well, it turns out that someone had:

In 1899, the Bay State Stamping Company of Worcester, Massachusetts introduced the Bennet pedal.  Don't you just love the clover cutouts in the cages?

I tried to find out how long these pedals were produced.  They were introduced just as the first American Bike Boom was about to dissipate.  So, I suspect they weren't made for very long, and the design--like many others from that period--was forgotten.

Aside from the cage shape, the Bennet had a couple of other interesting features.  One is a dust cap that springs into the body and is held by latches. In contrast, most other dust caps are either screwed on or pressed in and often fall off, especially when the bike is ridden over rough roads or trails.   The other innovation was a bearing cone that was keyed rather than threaded to the axle, and held in place with a set screw.  According to the manufacturer, this system allowed for one-tool adjustments.  It also eliminated the problem of locknuts that came loose and allowed the cone to screw up and crush the bearings.

I would love to know how well those features worked. If they were effective, the Bennet was certainly well ahead of its time.  Even if they weren't, the Bennet is interesting as a kind of proto-BMX or -mountain bike pedal.