What Happened To 708?

How can you tell the best bikes from the rest?

For about half a century, the answer was simple:  Look for Reynolds 531 stickers on the frame and fork.  Just about everyone who built frames by hand in the English-speaking world used it. So did the top bikes from the leading manufacturers in those countries, as well as in Continental Europe and Japan.  Even some Cinellis were made from "five-three-one" in the main triangle (and Columbus SP forks and stays) until the mid-1960s.

The reason for this was simple:   Reynolds 531 offered, by far, the best weight-to-strength ratio of any bicycle building material available. Its strength, said to be the result of its composition (made with maganese and molybdenum) allowed it to be drawn paper-thin midway through the length of the tube. That made significantly lighter bikes possible, and the fact that it was "butted" at the ends and seamless meant that it didn't compromise strength.  While other companies made seamless double-butted tubing (which Reynolds first developed), none seemed to achieve quite the balance of responsiveness and comfort of Reynolds 531. Also, it was offered in a dizzying array of configurations to suit just about every kind of rider and riding.

While nearly all of the British builders and manufacturers, and some in France, continued to build mainly or exclusively with Reynolds 531, some in other European countries, as well as the US, shifted to Columbus tubing--or offered bikes made from each brand.  While some claimed that Columbus made for a "stiffer" bike, I think that perception came from the fact it was used mainly to build criterium and track frames, which were the mainstays of high-end Italian bike production.  In contrast, Reynolds 531 was used on a wider variety of bikes, including the touring, audax and randonneuring machines made mainly by British and French builders, but far less often by their Italian counterparts.

In part to compete with Columbus and other tubing companies, and in part as a response to changes in bike-building techniques, Reynolds created new tubing sets, starting with their "753", introduced in 1975.  (See Retrogrouch's excellent article about it.)  Other tube sets followed.  Some, such as the 631 (said to be the successor of 531) and 853, have become mainstays (pun intended) of the bike world.  Others, like the 501, a seamed chrome-molybdenum tubing, were widely used for a number of years on mid- to upper-mid level bikes, including some from Peugeot, Motobecane and Trek as well as British makers like Raleigh and Dawes.  

Then there were other Reynolds products that seemed to come and go pretty quickly.  One example is their "708".

  

I could find very little information about it.  Apparently, it was made for a few years during the 1980s, and it seems not to have been used much, if at all, outside of England.  I could find no reference to it in any American frame builder's or bike manufacturer's literature of that period, and I saw references to just two French bikes--one from Peugeot, the other from Motobecane.  Neither of them, nor any of the British models made from 708, seems to have been exported to the US.  

This tubing differed from others made by Reynolds, as well as other high-quality tube sets from Columbus, Tange, Ishiwata and Vitus, in that it wasn't internally butted at the ends.  Instead, the tubes were made with eight internal ribs running lengthwise inside the tubes, rather like the rifling in a gun barrel. (I know, that's not the most politically-correct analogy to use, especially after the latest election, but it will be useful later.) This was supposed to increase strength and lateral stiffness over butted or straight-gauge tubes.  Reynolds intended for it to be used on touring and other heavy-use bikes,  and the few bikes made from it were of those types.  

Raleigh Randonneur, a bike made from Reynolds 708 tubing. From Retrobike UK.

The few testimonies I've found about bikes made from Reynolds 708 were positive. So why did it come and go as quickly as it did?  One the reasons was brand loyalty--or, more specifically, a product loyalty.  At that time, it seemed, dyed-in-the-wool 531 riders didn't want to try anything else, whether or not it came from Reynolds.  And those who were inclined to try something new were switching over to Columbus or the then-new aluminum bikes.

I can think of one other possible reason why, not only did so few people buy bikes made from 708, but why, apparently, so few (comparatively, anyway) bikes were made from it.  A butted frame tube has the same thickness through the circumference of the tube.  This means that whether the builder or manufacturer brazes or welds the frame tubes together, and whether or not lugs are used, a consistent level of heat can be maintained around the circumference. In contrast, ribbed frame tubes have thick and thin sections, which makes it more difficult to maintain consistent heat levels.  An area that is heated more loses more strength that is heated less.  Thus, I imagine that it would be more difficult to make a strong joint with ribbed than with butted tubes.

Then again, I didn't see any references to collapses or other failures of 708 frames.  That may be a result of the relatively small number that were produced, or of that those few tended to be relatively high-level bikes which were made by more skilled hands than mass-market bikes.

Whether or not 708 had the possible problems I mentioned, it didn't seem to influence bike-making very much.  The only other internally-ribbed frame tubes of which I'm aware were Columbus SLX and the tubing that Miyata made for some of their own bikes. Both were manufactured around the same time as 708 was produced.  I don't know whether either was inspired by 708.  Miyata, though, may have had the idea stored in their institutional memory, if you will:  Before they started making bikes, they made rifles.

It's Not My Fault, I Think

Confession:  For a brief time in my life, I worked in market research.  

In those days, we didn't have what are now called "social media".  And only the computer geeks were using the computer networks that would later help to form the basis of the Internet.

So we did our work with paper and telephone surveys. The former were mailed or given to people, while the latter--then as now--reached people while they were eating dinner, or at some equally inconvenient time.

The money was decent.  So why did I leave it?  No, I didn't have any sort of existential crisis or moral pangs.  And I didn't get bored:  After all, in what other kind of work can you learn such interesting and useful facts as people's consumption habits?  At the time, interestingly, people in Puerto Rico bought more Cheez-Whiz and Hawaiians purchased more Spam per capita than anyone else in America.  And the average New Yorker--surprise, surprise--bought more Wonder bread than anyone else.

Egad!  Had I known that such data would be stuck in my cranium all of these years later, I would have quit even sooner than I did.  But I left market research, in part because I went and did other things that, I thought, were closer to my own talents (such as they are) and passions. The biggest reason, however, for moving on to other things was that I realized my MR job was the most profound waste of time in my life.  I still feel that way about it.

On that job, I learned that simply asking people questions wasn't the surest, best way to get accurate, much less truthful, information about people.  We all know that there are those loves, those passions, that dare not speak their names.  To this day, I don't know what led me--or anyone else with whom I worked--to believe that people would always tell us what they wanted, liked or felt.  Sometimes they wouldn't.  Sometimes they couldn't.

I found myself thinking about my MR experience after I heard the election results and the disbelief of the pollsters and pundits.  Surely, they told us, Trump hadn't a chance:  He was too vulgar, too sexist, too fill-in-the-blank.  He had no government experience; running a company or hosting a reality TV show isn't like presiding over a country.  As if people were thinking in such terms!

Their surveys and algorithms (Was that the theme music for a certain campaign in 2000?)  couldn't detect something I've noticed while riding my bike.  

From Regated

I wish I'd photographed the lines of "Trump" signs posted on front lawns along the Connecticut, Westchester and New Jersey streets I rode last Friday and Saturday.  Some of them stood next to signs calling for Hillary's incarceration.  

Through the past spring and summer, such signs sprouted, like fungi after a rainstorm, with increasing and alarming frequency, along my bike routes on Long Island and even in parts of this city, the bluest of the blue.   

Of course, being on the road, I saw plenty of "Trump/ Pence--Make America Great Again" bumper stickers.   And, let me tell you, they weren't all on pickup trucks:  I even saw one on a Prius, of all cars!   

But what if I'd presented some pollster or talking head with photos of Trump signs and bumper stickers, or other evidence of Trumpmania I observed?  Would they have paid any attention to me?  Somehow, I think they wouldn't have, any more than the market researcher I was would have listened to someone who actually spent time in clubs, dance halls and the like in order to determine what music people were listening to.  Or the store manager who can tell you what is selling and what isn't.  

So, even though I didn't take those photos or otherwise record the evidence of Trumpophilia I saw from my saddle, I guess I'm not responsible, after all, for his election.  Or so I'd like to believe.

Vote Bike!

Today is Election Day here in the US.

I believe I have heard, "Did you vote?" and "Who did you vote for?" (or "Who are you going to vote for?") more often today than I heard during the last few elections combined. 

The talking heads are right when they describe this year's election as an "enigma" or "paradox":  It's been a long time since so many people have paid attention, even though this year's major party candidates for the Presidency are the least-liked, and possibly the worst, in the history of this country.

I'm not sure that choosing one candidate over the other will make much difference for cycling in this country, so I suspect most cyclists will vote by the same criteria other voters use.  Perhaps Hillary Clinton will be somewhat better, simply because she is somewhat better on environmental issues, which is a bit like saying that any given country is a little better than Saudi Arabia on women's rights.  At least one can hope that Hillary's attention to issues such as greenhouse gases and mass transit might translate into policies, or even infrastructure, that will benefit cyclists.  On the other hand, you can pretty much bet that a man who thinks global warming is a hoax perpetrated by the Chinese will do nothing favorable to cyclists.

That is not to say that there's nothing at stake for cyclists or cycling in this election.  The biggest differences that voters can make in creating bicycle policy and infrastructure are found at the local level. So, elections for city councils, county and state legislatures as well as other local offices, some of which are being held today, can be a key to creating more "bike friendly" areas in the US.

Flag of the Samajwadi Party, India

To my knowledge, though, no major US media outlet has done anything like the "scorecard" The Guardian did in advance of last year's general election in Great Britain.  In it, each of the major parties is rated on a scale from one to ten in terms of its attention, or lack thereof, to cycling-related issues.  Perhaps not surprisingly, the UK Independence Party (the one that led the "Brexit"vote) scored zero, while the Greens scored ten. 

Can you imagine the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, Washington Post or other newspapers rating the Republicans, Democrats, Libertarians, Greens or other parties--or, better yet, each of the candidates, especially during the Primaries.  Hmm...How would Jill Stein or Bernie Sanders compare to Ted Cruz or Donald Trump?

Old Whitewalls Turn New Wheels (Antifreeze) Green With Envy!

I still remember when a bike with "antifreeze green" Velocity rims or neon orange or pink parts could get my attention.  These days, I see so many bikes, components and accessories in such a riot of colors that I don't notice the loud and shocking colors--or, in some cases, cartoonish graphics--on them.  


From the images I've seen, and from what I've read, I imagine that a century ago, the color palette for what people pedaled wasn't quite as extensive as it is today.  I'm guessing it didn't include the loud, sometimes garish, hues that scream out in the tumult of tones we see today.



That leads me to wonder how these bikes might have looked to people in Peoria, Illinois in 1920:

The Voss Brothers' bicycle shop in Peoria, Illinois, 1920.  From the Peoria Historical Society Image Collection at Bradley University.

In that photo, the tires look like fluorescent rings around the wheels.  I couldn't help but to wonder whether someone got really creative in the darkroom--or whether whitewall tires of that time were really as white as they look in that image.  

I also wonder whether they captured people's attention at first--and whether those same people got used, even jaded, to them.

Can you imagine those tires on antifreeze green rims?

From Superb Bicycle Boston blog.

Bike Theft Really Stinks--Especially With This Lock!

That stinks!

I've uttered those words--and worse--when cycling buddies' and acquaintances' bikes were stolen.  And we've probably heard those same words from those who were sympathetic with our plight when we didn't find our bikes where we left them.

(Those who hate cyclists probably say, "Serves you right!")

Now, if losing your bike stinks, it's fair to say that bike thieves stink (or worse).  I almost wish that it were literally true:  Think of how many fewer bikes we'd lose if we could smell a bike thief in our vicinity. How might American history be different if Patrick Henry had proclaimed, "I smell a bike thief!"

Well, if engineer Yves Perrenoud and San Francisco-based entrepreneur Daniel Idzkowski have their way, we may be one step closer to tagging cycle crooks with an olfactory "scarlet letter".  Their invention will, at least, expose them in another way that is no less obvious.

Perrenoud and Idzkowski's "Skunk Lock" looks, apart from its graphics, just like any number of U-Locks available today.  Nearly all such locks are invulnerable for a year or two, until some thief figures out a way to foil it. 

These days, the preferred method seems to be cutting the lock with an angle grinder.  If a perp tries that on the Skunk Lock, it will emit a potent scent that will cause him or her to vomit--which, according to the inventors, would make it more difficult to flee unnoticed.

The nausea-inducing substance is based on the fatty acids found in foods like rancid butter and parmesan cheese.  While it smells "completely unpleasant", according to Perrenoud and Idzkowski, and can stain clothes and cause vision impairment and breathing difficulties--even if the would-be thief is wearing a gas mask--it will not cause permanent harm and is considered "food grade", they claim.

What really stinks about the Skunk Lock, though, is that its pressurized gas component, called The Shackle, can be used only once.  If there is an attempted break in the lock, a new Shackle can be purchased.

Idzkowski hasn't said how much it would cost to replace the Shackle.  However, a Crowdfunding campaign that has exceeded its target will allow the Skunk Lock to retail for about $40 when it's introduced--in June 2017, he hopes.

Vomiting?  Breathing difficulties?  Stained clothes?  Hmm...Maybe there will be, at last, a real stigma (which, by the way, means "stink") to being a bike thief!