An Apt-O Stem For Your NJS-Approved Bike?

These days, if a poseur wants someone to know he is a real, hardcore, badass track rider, he makes sure every single bolt and nut---no, forget that: the air in the tubular tires--on his fixed-gear bike is stamped "NJS".  

(I used the male pronoun because everyone I've ever encountered who fit the foregoing description was male.)

Now, I have nothing against anything approved by Japanese Keirin racing's governing body.  Why, almost everything on my fixed-gear bike has that NJS seal--even the brakes! 

(And, yes, I served with the Peace Corps in Paris.  Really, I did!)

Then again, I don't even pretend to be a track racer:  I just like riding on a fixed gear.  And I am not concerned with having the latest gee-whiz technology:  All I want from my equipment is high quality, reliability and a lack of unnecessary complication.  If it looks nice, so much the better!

Now, if I were a real old-school, firewater-drinking track racer, I would be riding with this on my bike:

This Cinelli stem allowed its rider to adjust the reach (from the stem to the handlebars) from 50 to 170 mm (1.9 to 6.7 inches).  As far as I know, it was offered only in a track configuration, with a deep (probably -30 or 60 degree) drop.  So, as the stem is extended, the bar is also lowered. That would make sense on the track or, perhaps, for a road race that includes a time trial, as someone who is riding in a more spread-out position would probably want to ride in a lower position as well, for aerodynamics.  

Such stems also made sense at the time they were made--in the case of the Cinelli in the photo, from the 1940s until the 1960s--when team budgets were smaller and riders, as a result, might be riding the same bike for different kinds of events.  Other stem manufacturers, such as 3TTT and AVA, made similar items during that time, and earlier.  


Nitto made this seemingly-more-refined version (Yes, it was NJS approved) during the 1980s.  Since then, it seems that no stem maker has been willing to even touch the concept.  That is, until now:

3TTT, which made an adjustable track stem similar to Cinelli's, has just introduced a modern take on it.  Their new "Apto Pro" stem uses an oval steerer tube compartment to allow the stem to "grow".  Even with such a complex internal system, the stem has a rather sleek profile (I'd love to see it in polished, or even anodized, silver!) and a claimed weight of 77 grams, about half that of a typical threadless stem.

It all sounds very nice, but there is one catch:  The "Apto Pro" doesn't have anything like the range of adjustability offered by the old adjustable stems.  Instead, it comes in four different models that offer 15 mm of adjustment:  one for 70-85mm extension, another for 90-105, the third for 110-125 and the last for 130-145.  That means a team or rider can keep four stems on hand and have 75 mm of adjustability.  Also, the fact that they have faceplates on the handlebar clamps means that the stems can be switiched pretty easily from one bike to another.

For the moment, 3TTT plans to make it available only with a clamp that fits 31.8mm diameter handlebars.  The company has not yet disclosed a suggested retail price or when or where the Apto Pro will be available.

Campagnolo Adapted Japanese Design; The Public Didn't Rally Around It

In an earlier post, I said that SunTour's invention of the slant parallelogram is one of the most important innovations in the history of cycling.  Just about any derailleur made today that has even a pretense of quality has incorporated the design, which was patented in 1964.  In the early '80's, you could practically hear other derailleur makers panting with anticipation of the day that SunTour's patent would expire, in 1984.  Within a year, Shimano was using the design in its new line of Dura-Ace derailleurs for indexed shifting.  Within another three years, all of Shimano's derailleurs would share their geometries with those of the SunTour VGT and Cyclone.  By the end of the decade, the other major derailleur manufacturers of the era--Campagnolo, Huret and Simplex--would also "borrow" the design as they tried desperately to reclaim the market share Shimano gulped down.

A sad irony  is that after all of those companies adopted the slant-parallelogram, SunTour tried to create an indexed ("click shift") system to compete with the Shimano juggernaut--two decades after SunTour developed an indexed system (and a cassette freehub) that, by all accounts, worked well but for which the world wasn't ready.  Sun Tour's new indexed system, which came out in 1987, didn't work nearly as well as Shimano's because SunTour didn't develop a freewheel or cassette--or a chain--that worked properly with their new derailleurs and shift levers.  Campagnolo made the same mistake with its "Syncro" (which some of us called "Stinkro") setup, in which indexed derailleurs sent stolid Regina chains clattering across imprecisely-cut teeth of Regina freewheels and chains.  Also, its first "Syncro" system used a modified version of its traditional dropped-parallelogram derailleur, which didn't adjust the distance between the top pulley wheel and the freewheel cog--vital for indexed shifting performance--as well as Shimano's new slant-parallelogram derailleurs with sprung top and bottom pivots.

Campagnolo Gran Turismo, circa 1971.  Don't you just love those red bolts? Unfortunately, they're the best thing about the derailleur.  Well, all right:  It was good for driving in tent pegs. I know, I did it.  From Speedplay.

I suspect that one reason why Campagnolo tried, in essence, to make their traditional derailleur design work with an indexed lever (which looked at least something like other Campagnolo levers of the time) had something to do with their experience with their Rally derailleur of a decade earlier.

SunTour VGT-Luxe, circa 1973.  From Disraeligears

Before SunTour came out with their slant parallelogram rear derailleur, most wide-range gearing systems--like the ones found touring bikes--didn't shift quickly or precisely.   After SunTour's Grand Prix, Competition and V-series derailleurs entered the market--at the dawn of the North American Bike Boom--Shimano, which was a very minor player in the bicycle components market, wanted to compete.  They couldn't copy SunTour's design for another two decades, so they found ways to modify Simplex and Huret's designs.  The result was something called the "servo pantograph", in which the parallelogram dropped at least somewhat (like Simplex) and the top pivot was sprung (Huret).  The resulting derailleurs--which would become the long-armed Crane and Titlist--shifted reasonably well over wide ranges--better, at least, than the European wide-range derailleurs but not as well as SunTour's.

Shimano Crane GS, circa 1972.  From Disraeligears,

Even so, the Shimano Crane and even the Titlist were seen as "better" derailleurs than the SunTour V and V-GT because they were more expensive and, to some eyes, more attractive.  That might be the reason why Campagnolo modeled the first edition of its "Rally" touring derailleur on the long-caged version of the Crane. 

Campagnolo Rally, circa 1975

I actually used one of those early Rally derailleurs for a time.  Once it was broken in (its parallelogram pivots had bronze bushings like the "Record" series derailleurs), it shifted about as well as a Crane--for about double to triple the price.

But certain segments of the European--particularly Italian--cycling community were not happy:  Up to then, the Japanese copied (with notable exceptions like SunTour derailleurs) European designs.  The reverse wasn't supposed to happen, or so they believed. 

Some of those who were upset that Campagnolo was making a "Japanese" derailleur (or, as one unfounded rumor had it, that a Japanese company was making it for Campy) felt vindicated when Rally derailleurs snapped in two at the "neck" just below the top pivot bolt.  Some Cranes and Titlists of the same era failed in the same way.  So, the Campagnolo birthers, if you will, believed that the design of the derailleur--which was Japanese--was to blame.

The second generation of Rally derailleurs addressed the problem by beefing up the "neck."  There were very few reported failures.  Then again, not many second-generation Rally derailleurs were sold.  Some who wanted all-Campagnolo touring bikes actually went back to using the Gran Turismo derailleur, which Frank Berto very aptly dubbed "Campy's Edsel".  Others--mainly in the US, and to a lesser extent in the UK--decided that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to equip their otherwise all-Campy bikes with a SunTour rear derailleur, which shifted much better, and lasted longer, than the GT or Rally-- at a fraction of the price.

Third-generation Rally derailleur, circa 1980

Although Campy's heart was always in racing, it didn't want to lose the high-end touring market.  So, some time around 1977, the Rally was redesigned.  Essentially, it had the same parallelogram as the Nuovo Record, but a longer cage.  Ironically, it mimicked a "hack" that many custom touring bike builders, particularly in England, devised:  They used to make long pulley cages to fit onto Campagnolo parallelograms.  In one way, it makes sense when you realize that the Nuovo Record was sturdier than almost anything else available (especially before SunTour came along) and mechanically simple:  an advantage when one is away from civilization!  Still, it didn't shift nearly as quickly or crisply as even the least-expensive SunTour derailleur, especially with bar-end shifters.

But at least it still pleased the blowhards purists.  And it would be another decade before Campagnolo "borrowed" a Japanese design again.  By then, Campy was desperate and the public was ready.

Spence Wolf grafted a home-made long cage onto this Campagnolo Record derailleur in the 1960's/

Do Bikes Cause Bike Thieves To Steal?

Whatever your politics, whatever your religious beliefs (or lack thereof), whatever your situation in life--if you are reading this blog, there is one kind of person whom you find irksome, loathsome or something in between.

That kind of person is a bicycle thief.  If you've been riding long enough in the US or in any number of other places, chances are you've lost a bike to someone who didn't ask or pay for it.  And, I'll bet that even if you oppose capital punishment or anything "cruel and unusual", you've thought of ways to "teach a lesson" to whoever took your treasured two-wheeler.

I must admit: One of the things of which I'm proudest is having stopped a bicycle theft.   Actually, I wasn't so much proud as I was gleeful, almost giddy, to see the expression on the would-be thief's face when I tapped him on the shoulder as he was trying to break the lock on a parked bike.

That day, I stopped someone else's bike from being stolen.  But a couple of times in my life, I couldn't do the same for my own bike.  Perhaps those experiences are the reason why I feel a more visceral kind of anger toward bike thieves than I feel toward others who have committed more "serious" crimes.  I hope that the ones who took my bikes--and the one who tried to take someone else's bike until I stopped him-- had some terrible fate befall them.  Maybe they got chewed up between an inch-pitch chain and sprocket!

All right, I'll stop with the fantasies of torture and dismemberment.  But I'll pose this question to you:  What is a good penalty to impose on a bike thief?

I got to thinking about that question upon learning about John Liddicoat.  The homeless 47-year-old Englishman has 48 convictions for 142 offenses, many of which include bike thefts.  In his most recent incident, he targeted the garage of a house in the Devonshire community of Plymouth. 

In his latest hearing, Judge Ian Lawrie said "You have an appalling record, you are incapable of behaving yourself and you have not learnt your lesson" in handing down Liddicoat's sentence:  a lifetime ban from bicycling.

Yes, you read that last phrase right.  Liddicoat is not allowed to ride a bicycle again, ever.  In fact, he is not allowed within four meters (about 13 feet) of a bicycle--or to enter the campus of any college or school, the places where he committed most of his thefts.

Would you let him within four meters of your bike?

Now, you are probably wondering:  a.) How will the ban be enforced?, and b.) Will it actually stop his criminal behavior?

I couldn't find any answer to a).  Has Apple or some other company been commissioned to make a wrist or ankle bracelet that can detect bikes within his sphere?  Or will bobbies be deployed to watch his every move? 

As for question b.), I think most of you would agree that the answer is most likely "no".  You probably came up with that answer even if you didn't know that he has battled heroin addiction though basically all of his adult life and that he'd just spent three and a half years in jail for his latest stealing spree.

In his most recent burglary of the garage, he also took 20 bottles of wine the homeowner had been saving for Christmas.   Hmm...Will he be banned from being around bottles of Bordeaux?   Is there any way of preventing him from pilfering Port?

 

Playing Chicken--In Reverse--With The Rain

In other posts in this and my other blog, I've written about "playing chicken with the rain".   It's one of my guilty pleasures:  I go out for a ride when the sky looks absolutely pregnant with precipitation and keep on riding, all of the while daring the sky open up on me.  The best such rides are the ones in which I pull up to my house (or wherever I'm going) just as the first couple of drops touch my skin:  I feel as if I'd gotten away with something.

I was playing a kind of "reverse chicken" during this morning's commute.  It rained last night, heavily as I slept and a little lighter as I was getting ready to go to work.  As I hopped on my bike, a few drops plipped against my helmet; by the time I got to the RFK Memorial-Triborough Bridge (a little more than a kilometer from my apartment), the rain had stopped and the sun was starting to break through the clouds.

By the time I got to work, what little rain had fallen on me had dried up.  I looked no different than I would have had I ridden under clear skies during my entire commute; none of my co-workers asked, with astonishment, whether I had actually ridden "in this weather".  I was smiling or grinning, I'm not sure of which, and they might have wondered what I was smiling or grinning about.  I'll let them think what they will (I love them. I really do!); I am content to start my day feeling as if I'd gotten away with something, like a kid who made off with the box of cookies! 

 

Into The Fold: A Bike For The French Army

I recall reading or hearing that Peugeot invented the folding bike.   Of course, I am skeptical about that, just as I am skeptical about any other claim of inventorship unless there is solid documentation.  To be fair, though, I must say that, if I recall correctly, Peugeot has never made any claim to having invented the folding bike, although they probably were one of the first bike-makers to mass-market them.

Peugeot did, however, enter into a consortium with Michelin and the French army to buy the patents of an early folding bike, which appeared in the Peugeot sales catalogue of 1899.  

Gerard Morel folding bike prototype, 1892

That bike had its origins in 1892 when Charles Morel, a wealthy French industrialist, fell under the spell of the then-current bike craze and built a prototype of a folding bicycle. Around the same time, a French army lieutenant named Henry Gerard envisioned the military usage of a folding bike and in June of 1893 filed a patent for one he created.

Drawing for English patent issued to Charles Morel and Henry Gerard, 1896

Lt. Gerard's design was, however, deeply flawed and didn't work very well.  While looking for help in fixing the design flaws, he was introduced to Morel, who showed his prototype bike to Gerard.  Morel suggested a meeting between one of his mechanics, named Dulac, and Gerard to come up with a working design.  That meeting was successful and on 5 October 1894, Monsieur Morel and Lieutenant Gerard entered into an agreement to manufacture the bikes. 

Illustration from Revue Militare Suisse, 1897

Production of the bike began the following April. In October, a retail store for the bikes opened in Paris.  Gerard got the job of selling the bike to the military, and he supplied 25 test bikes to the French army.  The experiment was successful; the army bought more bikes and Gerard was put in charge of a bike-equipped regiment.  Soon, he was promoted to captain, largely on the basis of his success with the regiment.  In the meantime, the Russian and Rumanian armies placed orders for the bikes.

Because of his stature as a military commander, Gerard became the public face of the folding bike venture and the bikes came to be known as "Captain Gerard folding bikes".  Apparently, he forgot that Morel had the initial idea for the folding bike and wholly financed the venture and started to believe, as many people believed, that he invented the bike himself.

So, Captain Gerard sued Monsieur Morel for what he believed to be his "fair share" of the profits.  Not surprisingly, that led to a falling-out between the two men and a dissolution of their partnership.  That is when Peugeot and Michelin came into the picture.

Peugeot folding bike, 1970s

During the 1970's Bike Boom, many Americans saw (and a few bought) folding bikes for the first time.  Most Americans' introduction to folding bikes came from the Peugeot model that came with fenders, rack and generator lighting--very French!--and the Raleigh Twenty.  Since then, there have been any number of designs (and improvements) from Brompton as well as other manufacturers and custom builders.

Raleigh Twenty, 1970's

Now, as to who "invented" the folding bike:  The answer depends on how you define "folding" and who and what you believe.  Do "break-away" or "separable" bikes count?  Whether or not you count such bikes, or others that are portable in one way or another, you still have to consider that many claims by many inventors in a number of countries were made.  Most can't be documented in a convincing manner, whether because the documents were lost or they were never created or filed in the first place. 

Whoever deserves credit for creating whatever you consider to be the first folding bike, it's not hard to believe that the idea isn't nearly as old as that of the bicycle itself.