Today my far-flung adventures (ha, ha) took me through downtown Brooklyn and DUMBO. They included a stop at Recycle-A-Bicycle, where I donated a rack I wasn't using after I decided that whatever I'd get for it wasn't worth the effort of putting it on Craig's List or eBay.
While at RAB, a seemingly-friendly woman named Holly brought in this specimen:
It's a Schwinn Varsity from, I believe, 1967. (Check out the Paramount prices!) At least, that's what the "sky blue" paint and white panel on the seat tube seem to indicate. Also, it has shift levers on the stem, and 1967 is the first year Varsities came with such a configuration. The frame is really the same as the one on my Collegiate, except that it's built for 27 inch instead of 26 inch wheels.
Holly said she found it in the trash by the curbside. That's not surprising, given the condition of the paint. She was able to ride the bike from her neighborhood to RAB but, she said, she had no idea of whether the bike is salvageable.
The handlebar was badly bent, which she noticed. However, my quick glance at the bike could find nothing else that couldn't be fixed. The wheels spun: If I were to keep the bike for myself, I'd probably clean and re-grease the hubs. The tires will probably, and the tubes will almost certainly, need replacing. But the front wheel doesn't need more than a touch-up truing. The rear seemed to need a bit more work, but looked usable.
If nothing else, the bike will make a useful local errand or short-commute vehicle. Some tanks are lighter than it; I might actually classify it as an "ironclad" warship. (If a Civil War historian takes it, he or she should call it "The Monitor".) But it's lasted more than four decades; with proper maintenance, it might last that much longer.
When folks like Holly bring in bikes like that, I'm really glad that programs like Recycle-A-Bicycle exist. After all, seeing a bike like this one turned into someone's coffee crate or bagel bomber is better than seeing it end up in a landfill.
Mommy's not going for a ride today. So we're going to take a nap.
That's probably what they were thinking the other day, as the weather outside was frightful.
That photo, however, roused them from their REM reverie:
Well, the blizzard wasn't quite as bad here as it was on Long Island, or in Connecticut or Massachusetts. Still, we had around 10 inches (25 cm) of snow in my neighborhood.
The ephemerally alabaster landscape surrounding me got me to thinking about Heidi.
I'm not referring to Johanna Spyri's novel or the movies made from it. I'm also not reminiscing about an Alpine romance from my youth.
Rather, I am going to talk about this Heidi:
That is what I named her. She was one of the first of my bikes I named. And, being a true mountain bike, the name fit her.
She was built around a Bontrager Race Lite frame. Before Trek bought him out, Keith Bontrager was building Race Lites in California from a combination of butted chrome-moly tubings.
The way he built those frames was all but unique: Instead of brazing frame tubes into lugs or fillets, he TIG-welded them with gussets. While not as elegant as lugged or fillet-brazed frames, they were about as strong as any joints could be with thin chrome-moly steel tubing.
That construction, and the frame's geometry, made for what might have been the sweetest ride anyone ever achieved on a hardtail steel mountain bike. I never knew that a mountain bike could be so responsive until I mounted the Race Lite. It had that resilient, even smooth, ride associated with some of the best steel road frames.
Keith Bontrager was a Physics major in college, and he said he never took aesthetics into consideration when designing or building his bikes or components. Still, I always felt that Heidi was attractive, in a very rugged sort of way. As much as I love purple and green, I liked her look even better after this makeover:
When I changed the fork, I changed the decals (Bontrager made replacements readily available) as well as some of the accessories. The bike's original build, which you see in the first photo, consisted of parts that came off Heidi's predecessor: a Jamis Dakota I upgraded as I wore out the original parts.
Mind you, I liked the Dakota and rode the heck out of it. I might not have bought another mountain bike had I not gotten such a good deal on the Race Lite frame. I gave the Dakota frame to someone who, I think, sold it for a "fix".
Anyway, I rode Heidi for five years. Then, I drifted away from off-road riding and (reluctantly) sold her to someone out west who promised to ride her in the hills, where she belonged. I simply could not bear the thought of turning her into a "beater" or utility bike.
Yesterday's post turned into a capsule history of the banana seat. I hadn't intended that; somehow, while under the influence of a Dunkin' Donuts dark hot chocolate, my mind drifted in that direction.
I was thinking about banana seats because of a bike I saw yesterday:
It was parked outside the main building of Borough of Manhattan Community College. The school is located, literally, in the shadow of the site of the World Trade Center; for a few years after 9/11, I could only pass through that part of town. However, yesterday, I had business down that way, and spotted the bike--just as its owner showed up to unlock it.
I didn't get much of a chance to talk with her. Her name is Julie, and she's a librarian at the college. I would have loved to ask her whether she bought or received the bike in the state I found it--or whether someone converted it for her.
I know enough to realize that her bike is a Raleigh "Sports" three-speed from the mid-1970's. The particular shade of blue (with a silver panel on the seat tube) was offered around that time, which is when I first began to work in bike shops.
Probably the only more elegant "Sports" models were made in silver-gray. The paint and panels are, I think, tasteful without being overly formal: It's not difficult to imagine students as well as professors--or librarians--riding it.
Like many Raleigh three-speeds ridden by commuters, it has a basket fitted to its handlebar. However, it has another modification that the chaps in Nottingham never envisioned: a banana seat! At first glance, it looks utterly incongruous. However, as most people who ride the Raleigh Sports--or other English three-speeds--want a comfortable ride, and the banana seat is indeed the idea some people (particularly those who ride short distances) have of comfort, there is a certain weird logic to installing one on such a bike.
The rest of the bike's eqipment seems to be original, except for the tires: a white/cream Schwalbe on the front, and a whitewall of some sort on the rear. The white/cream Schwalbes look great on Raleigh three-speeds; I installed them on the last such bike I owned. I guess two white walls wouldn't look bad, either.
I'm guessing that Julie has a bike that suits her purposes, although I would never install a banana seat on a Raliegh Sports (or almost any other bike, for that matter). Anyway, I'm glad she's riding to work.
If you are around my age, you may have ridden a bike with a banana seat. If you didn't, then a friend, neighbor, sibling or classmate did.
They were popular with pre-teens during the 1960's and 1970's. The bikes that were equipped with banana seats seemed to be designed for one of two purposes: doing "wheelies", or emulating motorcycles or race cars.
During the banana seat's heyday, every American bicycle manufacturer offered at least one model equipped with it. Some, like the ones found on Schwinn's Sting Ray series, sported racing stripes, while other bikes--particularly those made for girls--were adorned with colorful, and even wild, flower prints. And, of course the Raleigh Chopper was a "banana" bike.
More than one reason has been given for their disappearance during the 1980's. Some attribute their decline to the rise in BMX bikes. Doing wheelies had become "old hat", so kids wanted to do more original, sophisticated and riskier maneuvers. They found that the tighter geometry and lighter weight--along with the smaller seats--of BMX bikes made their stunts easier, or even possible.
What a lot of people forget, though, is that the Consumer Products Safety Commission set its inspectors loose on various products (and lawyers on the companies that made those products). They took the accidents and product failures that resulted from the most unlikely or egregious examples of misuse to rationalize removing those products from the market, or forcing redesigns of them. In one of the silliest examples of mandated change, the CPSC said that Campagnolo "umbrella" pump clamps could no longer be sold in the US unless the "umbrella" cutout was closed or narrowed. Apparently, someone got his finger caught in one. I never heard about how he managed to do that. So, the importer began to retrofit the clips with a ring inside the "rose window".
And so it was with banana seats. As I understand, the CPSC forced them off the market because the rear braces failed on some of them. The CPSC claimed that the design was inherently unsafe. I'm no engineer, but I would expect the braces to be structurally sound, as long they aren't made of substandard materials and the attaching hardware is properly attached. The real problem, I think, is two or more kids often rode on one seat. Even if the braces are strong enough to carry their weight, I would think they would still incur extra stress as a result of the extra twisting and swaying that would result from having two kids on the seat.
Some kids may have wrecked their banana seats due to carelessness or from doing one too many wheelies or other stunts on their bikes. However, I don't think very many of them could have done so. Plus, kids on BMX bikes are performing even more stressful (to their bikes) stunts than we did back in the day on seats that make most track saddles seem plush, perched atop skinny seat posts.
Lately I've seen a fair number of banana seats for sale. Some are vintage; others seem to be reproductions. I imagine that the latter are made in China or some other foreign country. But I wonder how retailers are able to sell them in the US. The CPSC still exists; I wonder whether it has relaxed or otherwise changed its policies on bicycle parts.
