Pivotal Brakes

Sometimes, when I surf the web, I am swept into a stream of flotsam from bikes past.

Here is an example of what I mean:

Photo by berangberang

If you ride road bikes, something about this brake may seem familiar to you.  And well it should.

It was made by Altenberger in the German Federal Republic (West Germany to us Americans) during the 1970's.  I started working in bike shops during that time, and some bikes--mainly lower-priced ones with upright handlebars--came with that brake.

It's the ancestor of brakes found on nearly every road bike built since the mid-1990's.  Why?  Take a look at those bolts with the red nylon washers.  They make it a dual-pivot brake.  While they may not have been the original of the genre, they were the first dual-pivots to appear on any significant numbers of bikes.

They were supposed to provide the simplicity and light weight of sidepulls but the "symmetry" and modulation of centerpulls.  Unfortunately, Altenberger's brake didn't exhibit any of those qualities.  I think that it had to do with the fact that the arm with the cable anchor bolt usually overlapped the pivot on the other arm, as you see in the photo.  That eliminated whatever "symmetry" the brake may have been designed to have, and made for very uneven braking.

Perhaps even more to the point, the brake was not of very good quality.  The metal used in the arms was pretty flexy. (The fact that the arms were long didn't help matters.)  The rather flimsy spring would lose its springiness fairly quickly, which further diminished the brake's power and modulation.

After Altenberger stopped making this brake (or went out of business altogether:  I don't recall seeing very many of the company's brakes after the early '80's or so), Weinmann produced a similar model, which they called the "Synchron".  Its quality and aesthetics were better than those of the Altenberger, but, like its predecessor, the Synchron never synchronized very well and got worse over time.

So, when Shimano came out with their own version of the dual-pivot brakes, I cringed.  Younger cyclists didn't have memories of the earlier dual-pivot brakes, so they were enthusiastic about this new "innovation".  I refrained from them for a few years until someone with whom I shared, at that time, a similar riding style and whose ideas I respected convinced me to try a pair of the Shimano 600/Ultegra dual-pivots.  Although I was, at first, put off by their gray epoxy finish as I was by the fact they were dual-pivots, I became a convert.  Shimano figured out how to actually make the arms work in harmony and used better quality materials than the ones found in the Altenberger or Synchron.  Even the lower-priced Tektros, not to mention the higher-end Mavic and Campagnolo Record and Chorus 

dual-pivot brakes, are worlds better than those early attempts to combine the advantages and eliminate the weaknesses of center- and side-pull brakes found on ten-speeds of the 1970's and earlier.

Serious Mojo In The Shadow Of Power

Last week, I spotted a pair of Sun Tour shifters on eBay.  The item's location was listed as "New York, NY."  So I asked whether I could pick them up.

Turns out, the seller was even closer to where I live than I expected:  only about 4 kilometers away.  Woodside, Queens, to be exact.  And he said his "shop" was located behind a restaurant on one of the neighborhood's commercial strips.

The reason I'm not revealing the name of that restaurant, or the name of the shop, is that Damon asked me not to.  In fact, on his website, he says his "shop"--which is really more of a workshop--is in a "secret location" and that he meets customers only by appointment.

Damon is actually an engaging and friendly fellow.  The reason for his arrangement, he says, is that his shop--a garage, really--is a "passion" and he doesn't want to deal with the more mundane parts of the bike business.  (He once had a regular shop, he explained, and running it was nothing like he expected it to be.)  Also, I sensed that he wanted to deal only with customers who shared his passion for vintage bikes.

One of our common loves, as it turns out, is frames from British builders.  He showed me a Claud Butler from the '50's that he's fixing up, along with a few other frames from Claud's countrymen.  When I revealed my own love of Mercians, he knew he'd found a soulmate, at least in bicycle terms.

(Oh, and he did some of his studies for his profession--his "day job"--in Paris and, quelle coincidence, was living in the City of Light at the same time I was there. How do Francophiles become aficionados of British Frames?  Hmm...)

All of the frames in his "shop" were steel, except for one older Vitus bike.  Among his Butlers and early '80's Treks stood one of what might be the most sought-after (by collectors and enthusiasts) bike from a mass manufacturer:  Raleigh Lenton.  It was in really good shape, except for the cellulose fenders--which are almost always broken.  

I could have spent all day at that shop, and with Damon. Because he's trying not to publicize his operation too much, I didn't take photos--except for one particularly intriguing machine.

Damon equipped this Olmo city bike, which probably dates from the '50's or '60's, with Campagnolo Gran Sport equipment, except for the Weinmann centerpull brakes. (The Gran Sport brakes wouldn't have been long enough or played nice with the fenders.)  He was impressed that I've actually written posts about GS equipment and Weinmann brakes, but I was even more taken with some other features of that bike:

Those bars put those narrow "city bars" I see on hipsters' fixies to shame--both for function and style.  But perhaps the best (or at least my favorite) part is something Damon customized.

He bent it to accommodate the front derailleur.  That alone would have made me want to make a return trip to his "shop"--which is just a few blocks away from where Dick Power had his framebuilding shop and retail store.

Before I left, I noticed that he had some vintage Silca pumps that, he explained, had been stored away from sunlight which, apparently, is what makes the plastic on them brittle.  I bought one, in black, for Negrosa, the 1973 full-Campy Mercian I picked up last year.  I know that the Zefal HPX (or even the earlier HP and Competition) pumps are easier to use and sturdier, but most full-Campy bikes of the time had Silca Imperos--and Regina freewheels, which I also have, even though I know the SunTour New Winner and Winner Pro are better in almost every way.  

That trip was short but sweet, to say the least!

Something Else That Isn't New, And Something That's Even Better

So...You think Shimano introduced the low-profile cantilever brake as part of its then-new XTR mountain bike group of components in 1992.

Well, when I first saw those XTR low-profile brakes, I had my suspicions.  Like most Shimano "innovations", some other company had tried it before.  Some, like the dual-pivot brakes by GB, Altenberger and Weinmann, didn't work very well, and Shimano was the first component manufacturer to make it work.  Others, like indexed derailleur shifting and hubs with integrated cassette bodies, were successful in earlier iterations (in both cases, from SunTour), but the cycling public wasn't--for various reasons--ready for them.

So...It probably wouldn't surprise you to learn that Shimano didn't invent the low-profile cantilever brake after all:

I don't know when this brake was made.  I'm guessing that they came as original equipment on the bike and, from what else I saw on the bike--a Motobecane city or utility bike--it was made in the 1960s, or even earlier.  Perhaps the brakes were made by one of the familiar but now-extinct manufacturers like Mafac, CLB or Weinmann.  Or they might have been made by some other company that went out of business even earlier than those firms.  

A sign announcing the bike was for sale hung from its top tubes.  The price was pretty low.  I thought about buying it, except that I don't have the time or resources to restore it.  Its owner might have ridden it for years without lubing (let alone replacing) the chain or cables, or cleaning and greasing the bearings.  But, as you know from reading this, that's something I would never do if I could help it.

Also, the logistics of getting the bike to my place would have been difficult, to say the least, for reasons I will reveal in a future post (possibly tomorrow).

In the meantime, I'll leave you with another interesting bike I saw today.  Given the way it was parked, I couldn't take better photos.  

You know that at some point, this bike was owned by someone who rode a lot--and not just from the French Cycle Touring Society sticker on the fender.

I'm guessing that the bike originally had dropped handlebars and, possibly, a Brooks or Ideale leather saddle.  Should we be upset that the bike now has flat bars and a thicker saddle?  Although I would have liked to see the bike in its "original" state, if the bars and seat are the thing that makes the bike a rider rather than a wall hanging, I won't complain.

The frame is made of Vitus 888--in its time, the chief European rival to Reynolds 531 and Columbus SL or SP. Also, the components are among the best of their time:

Now, you know the Specialities TA crankset, Huret Duopar derailleurs and Maxicar hubs spell "top of the line touring bike."  But this bike's owner (or builder) knew a thing or two:  the front sported a Mafac Racer brake, but the rear featured a Mafac Raid.  (Can't you just see and hear the bated breath and Velo Orange and Compass Cycles?)  And those pedals, from Specialites TA:  possibly the finest quill pedals ever made.  

My favorite feature, though, is this:

No, it's not a funky shifter for a front derailleur.  Instead, the lever operates this:

Some cyclists believed that when Sanyo chainstay-mounted dynamos were made (in the 1980s), they were the best available. I never used one myself, but I knew a few cyclists who did.  All claimed the generator was more efficient than any other available at the time--as long as the tire wasn't knobby or slicked by snow, ice, mud or oily rainwater.

Whatever you want to say, Meral bicycles reflected a lot of attention to detail.  It's too bad we didn't see more of them in the US.

(Yes, that last sentence is a clue as to why I decided not to buy the Motobecane with the low-profile cantilever brakes!)

How A Windsor Became A Raleigh

Sometimes “parts bin bikes” become other “parts bin bikes”.

That’s how it seems to work for me, anyway.  In any event, that’s what happened to the Windsor Professional I built up.

As I mentioned in my previous post, I didn’t like the ride.  So I sold the frame and transferred the parts to another.

Back in those pre-Internet, e-Bay and Craig’s List days, we learned who was selling what by word of mouth, bike club newsletters and bike shop boards.  And, here in New York, we checked the board at the American Youth Hostels store on Spring Street.

It was on the latter that I saw a listing for a Raleigh Competition frame.  Built from Reynolds 531 tubing with “sport” geometry, it was, in concept as well as ride, similar to the Peugeot PX-10.  Actually, I’d say the Competition—at least the one I had-- was a bit stiffer, but not harsh.

I’m not sure of whether Raleigh sold only the frame.  During the 1960’s and into the late 1970’s, it was equipped with quality French components such as the Specialtes TA three-pin crankset, Normandy Competition hubs, AVA tubular rims and Huret Jubilee derailleurs. The brakes were Weinmann centerpulls, as they were on all derailleur-equipped Raleighs except the Professional. In the late 1970’s, the wheelbase was shortened a bit and, possibly, the angles were tweaked a bit to make it stiffer.  At that point, Raleigh started to equip the Competition with Campagnolo Gran Sport components and Weinmann Carrera side-pull brakes.  The rims were switched to narrow Weinmann concave clincher rims.

In both incarnations, the frame was finished in glossy black with gold lug linings and graphics.  The lettering and other elements of the graphics were updated when the Raleigh changed the specifications.  My frame was the later version, from 1978.

I liked the ride quite a bit:  not quite as aggressive as the Colnago I owned at the same time, but stiffer and quicker-handling than my old PX-10. And it didn’t have the hard, dead ride of the Windsor Pro it replaced, or of the Cannondale I rode a couple of years earlier.

Actually, it was like the Romic I mentioned in an earlier post, and a slightly less aggressive version of my current Mercian Audax Special, a.k.a. Arielle.

So why did I strip and sell it?

 If I recall correctly, the frame measured 58 cm or 23 inches.  Normally, I ride 55 or 56 cm, depending on the design of the frame.  I believe that by the time I bought the Competition, Raleigh stopped making it—or, at least, they were making a very different bike  and calling it the “Competition”.  Also, around the time I bought the frame, Raleigh had shifted most, or possibly all, of its production out of England.

More important, even if I could have found another used Competition, it probably wouldn’t have fit me.  You see, Raleigh had this habit of sizing their bikes in two-inch (five-centimeter) increments.  So, if the bike was offered in a 23” frame, the next-smallest would be 21”.  I probably could have ridden that size with the seatpost extended.  However, other proportions of the frame might not have been right for me.

I know someone—whom I mentioned in an earlier post-- who has a Raleigh Competition just like the one I had.  He turned it into a Randonneuse, with fenders, racks and an Acorn handlebar bag.  He loves it.

The Cosmos, By Zeus

Last year, "The Retrogrouch" wrote an excellent article about the Basque component (and bicycle) maker Zeus, which was based in Spain.  They began manufacturing in 1926--a decade before Campagnolo--and seem to have continued until the late 1980s, or possibly the early 1990s.

Zeus is interesting for a number of reasons. One is they made almost everything on their bicycles:  Apparently, only the tires, tubes and spokes were not made by them, or one of their subsidiaries.  Perhaps only Raleigh, at least before the Bike Boom and on their three-speed models, manufactured as much as, or more of, their bikes than Zeus did. ("Schwinn-Approved" components were made by other manufacturers, e.g., Weinmann and Dia-Compe brakes, and Huret and Shimano derailleurs.)

Another reason why Zeus is worth looking at is that, while they developed a reputation for copying the designs of other manufacturers, they added their own touches and enhancements.  For example, their centerpull brakes were patterned after Weinmanns but were made with tighter clearances, tire guides (like the ones found on high-end sidepull brakes of the time), recessed allen bolts in the pivots--and a nicer finish.  And other components, such as the cranksets and derailleurs, used their Campagnolo counterparts as their starting points but departed in some details that didn't change their function but gave them character--and, often, made them lighter.  And perhaps no components more conspicuously exemplified the "drillium" trend of the 1970s than the "2000" line of components.

The funny thing is that the more Zeus came up with their own designs --they accumulated over 100 patents in their history-- the more they were criticized as "Campy copies".  Or so it seemed.

Even more ironically, those who made such criticisms probably never saw the Zeus part that was, perhaps, the nearest clone of the Campagnolo part that inspired it.  Actually, most of those critics didn't even realize the part in question--and others of the "gruppo" of which it was a part-- were made by Zeus because they were sold under the name "Alfa".

(The Spanish language doesn't have "ph" and "gh" diagraphs, as we have in English.  That is why it's spelled "Alfa", not "Alpha".)

Now tell me this "Alfa" derailleur doesn't look like the first version of the Campagnolo Valentino Extra:

Zeus Alfa

Campagnolo Valentino extra, first version

About the only visible differences between the two are the toothed pulleys on the Alfa, and the finish on the pivot bolts and adjustment screws of each one (black on the Alfa, chrome on the Valentino).  I never tried the Alfa, but I imagine that it doesn't shift much, if at all, differently from the Valentino--which was unexceptional, even for its time.

At the end of my first paragraph, I said that Zeus seemed to have continued until the late '80's or early '90's.  I could not find any information on when they succumbed (If Nietzsche were Greek, would he have declared that Zeus is dead?), but I had long thought that it was in the early or mid-80s, not long after they produced the 2000 series, their most renowned components.  Yet, while trolling eBay, I came across this:

European derailleur makers began to copy Shimano and SunTour designs during the early and mid-1980s, when those Japanese companies' patents started to expire.  Now, for all I know, Zeus may have made the "Cosmos" derailleur before that, as Spain was notorious for its lax patent laws.  Then again, it may have been made for them by someone else, although Zeus wasn't known for contracting other manufacturers.

Whatever the case, I never saw a "Cosmos" derailleur before.  Perhaps they were not produced for very long, or were not exported to the US.  If nothing else, it--ironically enough--belies the stereotype of Zeus as a "Campy copier".

A Trek Through The Heat Wave

The weather has been so strange this year.   February was warmer than April (or so it seemed), and after a spell of summer-like heat and sun in the middle of last month, skies turned gray and the air as chilly as that of early spring.  Now we are experiencing a heat wave:  For the third day in a row, the temperature topped 90F (32C).  

So I packed a mini-picnic lunch and rode to the most logical place:  the water--to the ocean, to be more exact.  I took a familiar route down to Rockaway Beach and along the south shore of Queens and Brooklyn to Coney Island, and along the Verrazano Narrows and East River back to my place.  In all, I did about 85 kilometers of riding.

And I took my winter-project Trek for the ride.  I've made a couple of changes on it, both of which turned out for the better.

For one thing, I converted the double chainring setup to a triple.  Actually, the crank is made for triples, but I had originally used  "Gran Fondo" 46/30 gearing on it, with a 46 in the middle position and a BBG bashguard/chainguard replacing the outer chainring.  

After a couple of rides, I remember why we used to ride half-step gearing.   If you ride, say, a 12-25 or even a 12-27 nine-speed cassette, the differences between the gears aren't nearly as great as they are on almost any five-speed freewheel, except for the "corncob"  (a.k.a. "straight block) ratio--which, at my age and given the fact that I'm long past racing, I will never use.

As it happens, I've been riding a 12-25 nine-speed on Arielle, my Mercian Audax.  On the other hand, the Trek now has a 13-26 five-speed freewheel, with between-gear gaps nearly twice as wide as those on the nine-speed cassette.  So, the 46 tooth chainring gives a 3.54 ratio (or, a 95.5 gear), while the next cog--15 tooth--provides a ratio of 3.06 (82.8).  I find ratios in the 3.2 to 3.4 range very useful--at least, that's what I often ride on Arielle (48 tooth chainring with 15- or 14-tooth cog).  

Now, I know the Trek is inherently a heavier bike with somewhat more relaxed geometery, and that I've added racks and fenders to it.  Still, I missed having gears in the 3.2 to 3.4 range.  So, I added a third chainring to the front:  a 42 tooth in the middle, with the 46 tooth in the outer position.  

Now it will just be a matter of re-acclimating myself to more frequent front shifts than I've become accustomed to making.  On Arielle, and even on Vera, my Mercian mixte (which has a 46-30 setup), I almost always ride the larger chainring.  

The other change I've made to the Trek is the brakes.  The Weinmann 605s, especially with the Mathauser Kool-Stop pads, were fine.  But I got a good buy on a lightly-used set of Weinmann Carreras.  I noticed the difference (also with Mathauser Kool-Stop pads) immediately:  The Carreras have a firmer, more positive, feel.  I think it's mainly a result of their beefier arms.  Next to the 605s, they're a bit clunky. But the Carreras have a nice finish, which looks especially good next to the hammered fenders, I think.

I may make one more change to this Trek.  I like the way they look with the Velo Orange Porteur bars, but I get the feeling the bike is really made for dropped bars.  And, now that Helene is gone, I've thought about returning the Porteur bars to Vera.  While Vera's been fine--not surprisingly, a bit more aggressive--with dropped bars, I liked her ride with the Porteurs.  And I liked the way she looked with them, too!

Then I have to name the Trek.

A Project's Maiden Voyage

The other day was a fine early-spring day.  Yesterday was just like it, only warmer and with less wind.

It seemed like a good day for a maiden voyage.  Yes, I took my winter project out for a ride.  I'd planned to take it for a "shakeout" of, say, 20 kilometers.  Then I'd go home, have lunch and take a ride on one of my Mercians.

But a ride to the World's Fair Promenade and Flushing Meadow park turned into a North Shore jaunt that took up the late morning and early afternoon.  The day was just so nice that I didn't want to go back inside.  Also, I was starting to form a few early impressions about the bike and wanted to spend some more time on the road to examine them, if not in depth.

Also, I wanted to see whether any problems would develop.  So far, I haven't found any.  I'll need to do only the things one normally has to do with a new build (even when using old parts):  Cables and spokes need re-tensioning and I'm going to tweak the saddle and handlebar position a bit.  So far, however, I don't think I'll need to make any major changes.

I reckon I rode 85 or 90 kilometers with a few hills and rough patches.  The bike is both more stable and sprightly than I expected it to be.  It seems, so far, to ride like a less refined version of Vera--which is not a bad thing, necessarily.

Years ago, I had a set of Weinmann 605 brakes on my Romic and one of my Treks.  I liked them then, and now I remember why:  They have a very firm response which, I believe, is enhanced with Mathauser (Kool Stop) brake pads.  I am especially pleased that they are playing nice with the inverse brake levers.

And I remembered what I liked so much about SunTour derailleurs back in the day:  They, like the brakes, have a positive response.  I wondered, however, what the shifting would be like with a modern chain on an old freewheel.  I wasn't so worried about whether they'd mesh:  The freewheel I installed hadn't been used much, if at all:  It was about as close to new as it could be without being new.  It is, though, a five-speed freewheel, which has wider spacing between the cogs than what's found on modern cassettes.  And the chain--a SRAM PC-830--is made for 8-speeds.  

Happily, I didn't miss a shift.  The "pickup" was quicker than I expected, and the chain engaged the cogs--on a SunTour Winner Pro freewheel--without any problems.  The drivetrain shifted and ran quietly.

In an upcoming post, I'll list the componentry. For now, I'll mention two interesting (to you bike geeks, I mean enthusiasts, anyway) things I did.

One is in the rear wheel, which I built.  The hub is spaced for a six-speed rear, with a 126mm over-locknut diameter.  I rearranged the spacing--shortening it by 5mm on the right (drivetrain) side and lengthening the left side by the same amount.  In other words, I spaced the right side for a 5-speed freewheel and, in adding the spacers to the other side, made the hub more nearly symmetrical. This reduces the amount of "dish" in the wheel which, I believe, will make it stronger.

The other thing I want to mention is the handlebar tape.  Yes, I used cloth tape--in this case, Tressostar gray and dark blue--and coated it with clear shellac.

That ornament on the stem?  It was an earring.  It was once half of a pair.  I lost its "mate".  So, I cut off the clamp, filed down the stub and attached it to the stem with Crazy Glue!

If you've been reading this blog, you've seen the bag before.  It's the great Randonneur bag Ely of Ruthworks made, which I've used on Vera for the past couple of years.  I hope she and this bike--which I've yet to name--don't fight for custody of it!