A Parts-Bin Bike That Changed The World

The Trek I recently sold was a "parts bin bike."  That is to say, most of the components I hung on the frame were ones I had lying around after being stripped from other bikes--or acquired in swaps, or given to me.  

Practically every bike mechanic has put together at least one such bike for him or her self, and possibly for someone else.  Sometimes I think a true bike mechanic will not ride any other kind of bike.

Every once in a while, a "parts bin bike" gains some sort of significance beyond its maker's life.  Such was the case of this machine:

In the immortal words of Tom Cuthbertson, if you had a grand of cash and dreams of riding the Appalachian Trail on a bicycle, you went to Joe Breeze and he built you a bike like this one.

I have always liked the look of it:  an apparent cross between a diamond and French mixte frame.  (In fact, his first bikes were usually equipped with mixte bars.)  There was a reason for this design:  When Breeze, Gary Fisher and others who have claimed (or have had others claim for them) the title of the Inventor of the Mountain Bike were barreling down Marin and Sonoma County fire trails, their frames broke with alarming regularity.  The short life-spans of their bikes had to do with the abuse they incurred, to be sure. However, those pioneer mountain bikers were using bikes they picked up in thrift shops and garage and yard sales.  Some were not terribly strong bikes to begin with, but others were old bikes that probably had hairline cracks and other damage when the Downhill Dudes bought them.  Also, the old Schwinn and Columbia cruisers--which, in those days (late 1960's-mid 1970's) could be found for as little as $2--were made of mild steel.  That is why they were so heavy:  A lot of metal was used to make up for its lack of strength.

Back to Breeze's bike:  The frame was built from tubes and other pieces from wildly differing kinds of bicycles.  For example, take a look at the dropouts, fork, cranksets and brakes:

 

A mountain bike with track dropouts?  Or a fork from a newsboy-style bike of the 1950's?  How about a crankset and brakes from a tandem or touring bike?

When Joe Breeze built that bike nearly four decades ago, there were, of course, no mountain bike-specific parts.  The TA Cyclotouriste was one of the few cranksets available that could handle the kind of gearing needed.  And the Mafac cantilevers were, by far, the strongest brakes available at that time.  As primitive as those parts may seem to some people today, they were the best Breeze could find for his purposes.

I have to admit that I get a kick out of seeing a Brooks B-72 (which was standard equipment on many English three-speed bikes) on Breeze's rig.  What mountain biker rides such a seat today?

Whether or not Joe Breeze "invented" the mountain bikes, many agree that the bike pictured was the first to be built specifically for the nascent sport of mountain biking.  If nothing else, it's a parts bin bike (sort of, anyway) that changed the world.

Lighting The Way Home

Well, it's that time of year again.

Whatever route I take home from work, I pass through a couple of residential neighborhoods in eastern and central Queens that feel more like they belong in Nassau County than New York City.  In those neighborhoods, many of the homes are decorated:.  Some are gaudy, others are stunning.  

Then there are ones that are distinctive, even in an image taken on a cell phone by yours truly:

Another Blast From My Past: A KHS Aero Track Bike

Here is one of the wildest bikes I've ever owned:

If you've been cycling for 15 years or more, or if you live in a city with a lot of messengers or hipsters, you've probably seen this bike:  the KHS Aero Track bike.

Mine came in the shade of orange, and with the translucent blue panels, you see in this photo.  The frame was built from True Temper Cro-Mo steel.  Most of the components were basic, entry-level stuff from Taiwan, with one exception:  the Sugino 75 track crank.  Had I known better, I would have taken the crank off before I sold the bike!  

(The crank was nice, but it was bolted on to a cheap bottom bracket and, in turn, a cheap chainring was bolted on to it.)

The model you see in the photo is from 1999.  I got mine late that year, and rode it for about three years.  Mainly, I took it on training rides in Prospect Park, which was just up the street from where I was living at the time.  I took a few rides on the street with it--without brakes.  I was in really good shape at that time, but I was going through a kind of midlife crisis that would end when I began my gender transition.  In other words, I was going through one last "macho" phase of my life and I'd convinced myself that only sissies rode fixed-gear bikes with brakes.

But I digress.  My KHS might have been the most responsive bike I ever had.  When you look at the geometry, you can only wonder how it could not be so.  On the other hand, in riding it, I'd feel bumps and cracks I couldn't see in the road.  And, in addition to being harsh, it had that "dead", non-resilient feel a lot of oversized aluminum bikes have.

Still, I had some fun rides on that bike.  The reason I sold it, ultimately, is that it never fit.  It seemed that the Aero was offered in three or four sizes that did not correspond in any way to the proportions of a human body.  And there were large gaps between the sizes.  

A couple of years before my bike was made, KHS made the same model with a curved seat tube that made the rear chainstays and wheelbase shorter.  I never rode it.  But I knew other riders who did; one told me it was more comfortable (!) while another said he liked the response of it.  Chacun a son gout.

In addition to the ride qualities I've mentioned, and its distinctive looks, I will remember my KHS Aero for another reason:  It was one of the last bikes I had in my life as a guy named Nick.

A Very Tall Vintage Bike

This might well be the biggest mass-produced bike ever made:

During the late 1970's and early 1980's, Panasonic built the model shown here, the DX-2000.  It was a step up from their entry-level bikes in terms of performance.  Panasonic offered the bike in perhaps a greater range of sizes than any other bike maker at the time.

This bike is a 71 cm.  To put it in persepctive, I, at 5'10'' (177cm) with a 32" (81 cm) inseam, generally ride 55 or 56 cm (depending on the geometry of the bike) road frame.

In a way, it's ironic that Panasonic made such a tall bike:  The Japanese, at the time, were some of the most diminutive people in the world.  Very few, if any, Japanese people could ride such a frame.  So, it's safe to say that the bike was made for export.

And, for a time, it worked out really well for Panasonic:  Their bikes, which combined meticulous workmanship with conservative but sound design, became very popular with in-the-know cyclists.  (Several riders in the club to which I belonged when I was at Rutgers rode Panasonics).  

It would have been interesting to see Panasonic become the official bicycle of the NBA!

Privilege

 I hope yesterday's post didn't depress you.  That wasn't my intention, though much of what I saw made me sad.  Rather, I was just trying to portray a bike ride that was--by intention as well as by accident--different from others I've done, even though it traversed routes I've taken many times before.

Plus, it put a few things in perspective.  At first, I wondered--as I always do when I see a favorite bike route damaged--when things would be back to "normal".  But I soon realized that "normal", at least as I'd defined it, no longer existed.  Even if everything that was damaged or destroyed were to be rebuilt or reconstructed to a semblance of what was before the storms, things wouldn't be the same, for there would be the memory of what was.

But, more to the point, what is "normal" now for the people who lost homes or simply had their lives disrupted?  A few might relocate.  However, most, I suspect will stay.  But even if their homes and communities were (or could be) restored to what they were before the storms, their lives have changed,and will change more.  

Save for my bikes, books and cats, I may not have had much before the storm.  But at least I didn't lose any of those things, or people who are in my life.  I still could ride to the Rockaways; I have a wonderful bike to ride.  Compared to the people I saw yesterday, I am indeed privileged.