In Living Color

Black-anodized components, as I mentioned in yesterday’s post, have waxed and waned in popularity during (and before) the four decades I’ve been a cyclist. I hope I did not convey the impression that all components were black or silver.  At various times during my years on two wheels—and throughout the history of cycling—bike parts have been anodized in a spectrum of colors. 

Today, most of the parts available in a rainbow of hues are intended for fixed gear or single speed bikes.  While cranks, chainrings, pedals, cogs and even chains are available the Roy G. Biv range for bikes designed for the velodrome or urban hipsters.  But cranksets with more than one chainring, derailleurs, brakes and other parts made for road, touring or mountain bikes are usually made in either silver or black, with the latter shade becoming more dominant as carbon-fiber bikes gain popularity.  One of the few notable exceptions to the hegemony (or tyranny, depending on how you look at it) of silver and black in road and off-road bike parts is Velocity rims.

Weinmann Vainqueur 999 brakes.  Red and blue were offered only from 1961 to 1964.

However, in decades past, parts for road, touring and sport bikes have been finished in other colors, red and blue being the most common.  Weinmann and Mafac made their center-pull brakes in those colors for brief periods during the late 1950’s and early 1960’s.  Mafac, in their last years (the early 1980’s), also made their cantilever brakes in a variety of colors.

Modolo Professional brake, circa 1983.  And you thought white components were sooo 2009?

Ofmega Maglia Rosa rear derailleur.  You can't make this stuff up!

The component makers that became most noted for their color palettes were Italian and offered the greatest variety during from the late 1970’s until the mid 1980’s.  Perhaps the most prominent of them were Modolo and Ofmega.  The former finished their “Professional” brakes—found on otherwise all-Campagnolo bikes—in red, blue, green, gold and white, as well as the traditional black or silver.  The latter company finished their derailleurs, which were essentially Campagnolo Records rendered in plastic, in the rosa hue of the Giro d’Italia leader’s jersey as well as the jaune of its Tour de France counterpart, and just about every other color imaginable.

Colnago C60 with 24 karat gold-plated Campagnolo parts

Other companies did not offer such a wide range of tones but nonetheless parted, at least to one degree or another, from the silver/black binary.  I have ridden gold-anodized Mafac 2002 and Galli brakes; Zeus, Sugino and SunTour also made derailleurs, cranksets and other parts with gold anodizing.  Of course, if really wanted bling, you went for the gold-plated (24 karat) parts Campagnolo briefly made before the price of the precious metal skyrocketed around 1980.

Galli rear derailleur in "midnight blue"

In addition to gold, Galli offered one of the most distinctive finishes in the history of bicycle componentry:  “midnight blue”.  It was, of course, darker than most other blue parts but was more complex and richer than navy or black.  In addition to brakes, derailleurs, cranksets, hubs and other traditional “gruppo” parts, Galli offered rims (made for them by FIR) and retrofriction shift levers (manufactured by Simplex) in midnight blue.  Galli were even finishing 3TTT stems, bars and seatposts in their trademark finish.  Such an ensemble looked absolutely fabulous on a white Olmo of that period, but it also looked great on celeste Bianchis and just about any silver bike.

Kooka crank, circa 1992

Probably the last time components made for bikes with more than one gear or to be ridden by anyone besides Keirin racers or hipsters was the early- to mid-1990’s, when it seemed that every twenty-something in California whose father had a lathe in his garage was making parts, mainly for mountain bikes, that were lighter and more expensive than everything else on the market.  Kooka and Topline crankset, which I mentioned in an earlier post, are examples of that genre.  Interestingly, survivors of that time, like Paul Components and White Industries, are now making their (admittedly fine) stuff in silver and black.  Chris King may be the only exception:  His headsets, hubs and other parts are finished in even more colors than they were two decades ago.

These days, all of my bike components are black or silver.  Part of the reason is that most of the stuff I use is available only in those colors.  But another is that I don’t want parts that detract from the kinds of finishes I like on my frames.

Paint...I Mean, Anodize...It Black

To many bicycle enthusiasts, “classic” components come in a spectrum of colors ranging from silver mist to gleaming chrome.  Some purists—or pedants who fancy themselves as such—believe that all components worth using are polished, preferably to a mirror finish.  Cranksets like the Stronglight 93, 63 and 49, Specialites TA Pro Vis (a.k.a. Cyclotouriste) or Nervar Star are among the preferred components of those with such aesthetic preferences.  So do Maxicar hubs, Huret Jubilee derailleurs and old-style 3TTT bars and stems.  

Stronglight 93 crankset in its natural habitat:  on a Peugeot PX-10.

 They’re all lovely pieces and perfectly valid on modern as well as classic bikes.  And, oh, yes, Campagnolo Gran Sport and Record stuff made until 1985 or so.  They had a more buffed finish but took on a nice sheen that looked great on just about any bike, especially a silver Cinelli.

Huret Jubilee in its natural habitat:  a Rene Herse

 

But not all components made before the lava field of carbon fiber oozed across, and blanketed, the cycling landscape looked like they were chromed or polished so that you could use them for shaving or putting on your makeup.  A couple of years before I started taking rides of more than a few miles—a year or two after the ‘70’s Bike Boom ended—a cult of sorts developed around black anodized parts.  

Original Campagnolo Super Record rear derailleur, circa 1974

It seems to have started when, in the middle of the decade, Campagnolo introduced its Super Record line.  It was identical to the Record line (which included the Nuovo Record rear derailleur) but included titanium bolts and bottom bracket and pedal axles.  And, to distinguish it visually from the Record line, the knuckles of the rear derailleur were anodized black.  So were the pedal cages and chainrings.  

(The hubs and brakes were the same as those in the Record line.  The brake levers had drilled-out handles and, ironically, weighed two grams (!) more than the non-drilled levers.  Apparently, the handles were made of thicker metal to compensate for the drilling.)

Sugino Mighty crankset, circa 1975

Maillard 700 pedals.  Don't you just love rhe red dust caps?

Once Campagnolo introduced its Super Record components, other companies got onto the black-anodized bandwagon.  Stronglight, Shimano, Sugino and other chainrings were available in noir versions.  Lyotard, Maillard, Mikashima (MKS) and Kyokuto (KKT)—the leading pedal makers, along with Campagnolo, at that time—offered black-caged and all-black versions of their products.  And, once 3TTT and Cinelli started selling black handlebars and stems, Phillipe and Pivo of France as well as Nitto and Sakae Ringyo of Japan followed suit.

SunTour Cyclone rear derailleur, circa 1975

SunTour and Shimano, naturally, offered several models of their derailleurs with black knuckles, like Campagnolo, or all-black versions.  I think the SunTour Cyclone silver rear derailleur with black accents is the prettiest shifting mechanism, besides the Huret Jubilee, ever made.  

Shimano Dura Ace hub, circa 1976

And Shimano went as far as to offer all-black versions of its Dura Ace components.  I think their hubs, with bright silver oil hole covers and axle nuts, looked particularly nice.  Their silver crankset with black rings was also nice.

Original Jim Blackburn rack on a Dawes Galaxy:  verrry '70's!

When those black components—and Jim Blackburn racks and water bottle cages—found their way to the market, I—like most novitiate cyclists of the time—had never seen anything like them before.  But a very few longtime riders—like Fred DeLong, the long-serving technical editor of Bicycling! Magazine—had seen an earlier fad for black anodized components in the years before World War II.  DeLong mentioned it in one of his columns.  And he—or some other bicycle writer of the time—mentioned a still-earlier time, around the turn from the 19^th to the 20^th Century, when black parts were all the rage.

The mid-70s mini-craze for black parts lasted a few years.  Then, most component makers quietly dropped them.  About a decade later, black chainrings and, later, other parts, started to appear on mountain bikes.  Road bikes reverted to the polished- (or buffed-) silver look in parts.  That wasn’t all bad, especially if said components were from SunTour’s Superbe Pro line.

SunTour Superbe Pro track hub

That aesthetic—and SunTour itself—disappeared around the time carbon-fiber bikes and parts reached the mass market.   The past few years, though, have seen something of a resurgence of shiny silver stuff as cyclists (mainly non-racers) are discovering (or re-discovering) the versatility, durability, beauty and ride quality of classic steel frames, or modern frames inspired by them. 

A Growler On Jeopardy

What do you get if you take a Dutch-style city bike with a "loop" frame, turn it upside down, move the chainstay (made of bar stock) about three inches above the bottom bracket and add a spring suspension on the front?

Well, I have never asked that question until now.  Actually, I didn't ask it:  I came up with it when I saw the (or an) answer.  

It sounds kind of like I was playing Jeopardy.  Can you imagine if they offered one of those bikes as a prize?

Joey Ruiter of Grand Rapids, Michigan designed the Growler City Bike after taking a Growler from a local pub and designing a bicycle--a cafe racer, specifically--around it.

The Growler features fat 29 inch tires, a Monarch springer front end, a two-speed internally-geared "kickback" hub , disc brakes and--the most important feature of all ;-)--a holder for a half-gallon jug ("growler") of beer.

Somehow I get the feeling I would actually like that bike. Does the Brooks Flyer (Or is it a B67?) saddle come as standard equipment on it?

Navigating A Pre-Dawn Fog

The past few mornings, I've been going to work early to get a few things done before students and others come around.  

That's meant riding in the dark.  Living in an urban area, I don't experience true darkness very often:   The city always flickers with ambient light from street lamps, skyscrapers, bridges and such.  Still, a lot of familiar sights are rendered invisible, especially in a foggy, misty pre-dawn like the one that surrounded me today:

Over the East River at Hell Gate, the world drifts or streams by, or suspends itself in points of reflection on those currents, all of them forms of light.

Sometimes I feel as if I navigate better by following those points and streams than by looking at signs and maps (or GPS devices)!

Protecting The Body (Or Bicycle) Electric

I can still remember when it was a big deal to see a Mercedes-Benz or BMW, much less a Porsche, on the road--at least here in the US.  I think I saw maybe two Jaguars before I turned thirty.

The joke was that you had to be really rich to drive a "Jag"--or to call it that--because you couldn't own just one.  The other was in the garage, especially after a rainy day.

One of my brothers told me that.  Back in the day, he fixed them, and other luxury cars, in a garage that catered to all manner of high-income (and high-maintenance) customers. He privately laughed at folks who spent $50,000 (probably $150,000-$200,000 in today's dollars) for "a car that doesn't start in the rain".  Garages that serviced "Jags" used to get death threats from customers who discovered its most unfortunate feature when the weather turned frightful.

The problem, according to my brother and others familiar with those vehicles, was the Lucas electrical system which, as one engineer joked, "hasn't changed since the beginning of the Industrial Revolution".  Another joke said that the English drink warm beer because Lucas makes their refrigerators.

From what I understand, Jaguars' electrical systems have been redesigned and better-protected against the elements. One would think (Gotta talk like the Queen now--she never uses first or second person!) that Jags, coming from soggy England, would have been so designed all along.

I got to thinking about that today when I saw a guy making a delivery on an electric bike--in a downpour.  I wondered whether any of those bikes ever shorted out or were otherwise disabled by the weather.

Apparently, it's happened--or someone has realized that it could: an e-bike shop near me is offering these shields:

The World's Worst Place To Ride...And He Would Know

I started reading Bicycling! magazine as a teenager in the mid-1970s.  I came in, so to speak, for John Rakowski's around-the-world bike tour.  Every month's issue included another installment of his epic ride, whether in India or Afghanistan or South America. 

As I recall, after three years and something like 50,000 kilometers of riding, he made a list of "favorite" and "least favorite", "best" and "worst", among other categories.

The former included countries (As I recall, Spain and Thailand were among his favorites.) while the latter included food, beer and cycling conditions.

As far as I know, Thomas Andersen has not yet made such a list.  But he has declared a "worst", as in "worst place for cyclists".  That distinction, he says, belongs to Australia. He singles out Sydney for particular criticism, saying he was shocked by the regular abuse from drivers.  "Australia has wonderful people, but some just don't like cyclists," he says.

Thomas Andersen in Sydney

Andersen is following in Rakowski's tire tracks and circumventing the globe on two wheels.  He's pedaled over 30,000 miles in 25 countries and is now pedaling through Ecuador. 

"In most countries, people drive fast but are usually happy enough to give some space to a cyclist on the road," Thomas says.  "I think the worst attitude I met toward cyclists was the day I cycled into Sydney in Australia."

He believes that one reason for such hostility is the lack of infrastructure.  For example, he cites the lack of lanes. "You have them for a bit, and then a gap."  Such a lack of continuity makes it difficult for cycling to develop as a viable means of transportation, he says.

But another reason he gives is, in my opinion, far more relevant.  In Denmark, his home country, many people cycle to work and for recreation.  On the other hand, he says, he saw few cyclists in Sydney or the rest of Australia, where he cycled some 5000 kilometers.

In previous posts, I have said that having such a critical mass, if you will, of cyclists, is far more important than bike lanes or signs or anything else for improving cyclists' safety and causing the bicycle to be seen as a viable means of transportation.  More cyclists brings more awareness of cycling, as greater numbers of motorists are likely to be, or more recently have been, cyclists.

I don't recall that John Rakowski had a "worst place for cyclists" on his lists.  If he had, I wonder whether he would have agreed with Thomas Andersen.

Bicycle Safety Camp Rap Video (Priceless!)

Ah, yes, the 1980s.  What was not to love?  (Well, except that Reagan and Bush pere were President.)  "Power suits" with padded shoulders.  Ghostbusters. (The best English-language translation of Caesar's declaration of victory is reason alone to see the movie!) Televangelists.  Miami Vice.  Neon-colored ski wear.  Trashdance, I mean, Flashdance.  Jolt cola. 
 

And in the world of cycling we had...fade paint jobs. And the Campagnolo Stinkro system.  

And Shimano took over the world.

As for music...The decade gave us the worst song in the history of rock'n'roll--and the best old-school rap.

Let me tell ya, tho'---The Sugar Hill gang and The Beastie Boys had nothing on these kids!

Embracing My Inner Magpie Leads To Englightenment (Or, Being More Informed About Cycling Advocacy, Anyway)

One thing you learn (sometimes, anyway) as you get older is to accept what you are and work with it--or let it work for you.

For a long time, I tried to suppress my inner magpie.  So, yes, I'll admit it:  I like pretty, shiny things, especially if I can recognize my own reflection in them. Then again, given what I've just said, a pretty, shiny thing is something that will, by definition, allow me to recognize my own reflection.  And vice-versa.

OK, enough of these extremely amateurish philosophical ramblings.  I accept that I like looking at pretty,shiny things and it leads me to images like this:

Instead of turning my nose up at this two-wheeled contraption (which is, however you define it, a bicycle), as I might have done not so long ago, I allowed myself to be drawn in by the pretty, shiny lights.  It led me to blog, which also contains this image:

That blog, is the most important find of all: Chicago Bicycle Advocate. I looked at a few posts on either side of the ones containing those photos.  The stories in them are all-too-familiar to urban cyclists:  getting doored (been there, done that!), a police officer who struck a cyclist and lied about it and  a driver who darted in front of a cyclist and tried to blame the cyclist for the ensuing crash.  But there are also inspiring stories, like that of the 13-year-old girl who came up with an idea for a signal system after seeing a man "doored" while she rode with her mother.

In reading those posts, and others, I was impressed by the level of analysis and clarity in discussions of the issues involved with accidents and other incidents involving cyclists.  I am going to subscribe to it, even though I live nowhere near Chicago.

Hooda thunk it:  Embracing my inner magpie has enhanced my understanding of the legal issues around cycling!