The Retrogrouch

How much is too much to spend on a bike?

Is that a stupid question? Do people in the top 1% of the top 1% ask questions like that?

When car companies collaborate with bicycle companies, you just know that the answers are going to get ridiculous. In recent months, there has been a spate of car-bike "collabos" -- some with questionable taste, and all with price tags that make me a believer in Socialism.

Take a look at several of the latest entries to the "more-is-more" school of bicycle design:

The Audi Sport Racing Bike. At $19,500, the cheerleaders are calling it a "bargain."BikeRumor says "Sure, the Audi Sport Racing Bike is expensive, but considering the top tier build on the Lightweight wheels and frame, it's not that surprising."

Surprising? I guess not. I mean, remember the $20,000 Specialized McLaren S-Works Tarmac? Okay, so, not "surprising." But no less ridiculous.

BikeRumor goes on: "Obviously, you could pick up a DuraAce Di2 group, custom R8 nappa leather covered Selle Italia Saddle (WHY?) and the rest of the components for less than $9,500, but with that difference you're paying for one of just 50 bikes with sweet custom Audi paint and a build that tips the scales at 13 lbs."

What are we saying here? A "sweet custom Audi paint" job is worth an extra $10,000? That must be some paint job.

But as stupid-expensive as the Audi Sport is, it is only the beginning. It's still about $12,000 cheaper than the Lamborghini Aventador BMC Impec. That's a helluva name, by the way. It just rolls off the tongue -- with about $8000 per word.

Like the Audi Sport, the BMC Lamborghini is limited to just 50 bicycles, and I think they require a stock-portfolio evaluation before they allow prospective buyers to apply for purchase rights. Okay -- I might have just made that last part up. Or did I?

What's really laughable is that cheerleaders try to imply that even $32,500 is somehow a bargain. By comparing the bike to Lamborghini's $3.9million Venenos automobile (the fastest, most powerful, most expensive Lamborghini car ever made, apparently), the implication is that "normal" people might be able to afford a taste of that Lamborghini "magic."

And yet, even $32,000 is somehow not too much to charge for a bicycle, as evidenced by the Aston Martin One-77. Made by Factor Bikes in the U.K., the bike is meant to recall the Aston Martin One-77 Coupe, which was limited to 77 cars that sold for $1.5 million. The bike is built with an exotic twin-downtube, twin-seattube carbon fiber frame, crazy 8-spoke carbon fiber wheels, and disc brakes. The One-77 bike also has a feature-laden integrated dashboard-like computer built into the carbon fiber handlebar setup. Also like the car, it is limited to 77 units. Price? They won't say. Unlisted. Talk about exclusive. I think they charge a fee just to ask the price.

What's kind of disgusting is that the companies that are making these things will have no trouble selling them. There are plenty of people, apparently, for whom price equals prestige. Twenty or thirty thousand dollars for a frivolous "luxury" toy is nothing. Just an average American's yearly salary.

Like I said -- nothing.

I once had the pleasure to meet Mike Barry, the founder of Mariposa Bicycles. He was as knowledgeable and pleasant a person one could hope to talk with about bicycles, and his shop in Toronto was a good source for certain hard-to-find parts, such as spare bits and pieces from T.A. Specialites of France. Barry's Mariposa Bicycles, built in Toronto by Mike and his builder Tom Hinton, were beautifully built and tastefully appointed -- but also relatively rare here in the U.S. Soon after I met Mike, at a Classic Rendezvous "Cirque du Cyclisme," he retired in 2007. It was understandable, but still a loss.

Some lucky owner is going to put a lot of miles on this lovely
camping bike. (from Mariposa)

Last year, Mariposa Bicycles, as well as the Bicycle Specialties business, were revived by Mike's son, Michael Barry Jr., who had recently retired from professional bike racing. Some readers might recall that Michael Jr. rode with such teams as the U.S. Postal Service, Discovery Channel, Team Sky, and others. Even head builder Tom Hinton returned to pick up frame building duties again.

Mariposa bicycles are still built with traditional methods and materials, like steel tubes, and lovely lugs. Randonneur, City, Road, Cyclocross, and Track styles are all available, with custom options as well. Mariposa also custom-builds some of the fittings and accessories for their bicycles as well, such as racks, decaleurs, and bottle cages. The finished bikes, especially those with custom appointments, are gorgeous. Check out the gallery on their website for some beautiful machines.

This Campagnolo-equipped sage green and oxblood randonneur
looks fast, comfortable, and versatile. (from Mariposa)

Prices are in line with many American custom-built steel bikes, but it's worth noting that, for American customers, Mariposa bikes should be particularly attractive right now, as the exchange rates are currently around $1.25 Canadian for $1.00 U.S. In other words, that $500 deposit on a new Mariposa would be around $400 U.S. Granted, the bikes still are not cheap by any definition, but they do offer another terrific option for persons wanting something custom-built and distinctive.

After looking at those overpriced carbon-fiber monstrosities calling themselves "exclusive" because of their "limited numbers" and their insane price tags in my last post, it's refreshing to see something truly unique and beautiful, and less than one-third the price.

How did I miss the biggest breakthrough in preventing bicycle theft to come along since some Victorian-era miscreant first stole a Penny Farthing in the 1870s? Thanks to the blog Midlife Cycling for calling this one to my attention. Yerka is being billed as the first "unstealable bike." My only question is who'd want to steal it? It looks to me like yet another bike from the crappy "urban fixie" school of design.

Ok, so, what exactly is it that makes the Yerka so hard to steal? Instead of using a lock to secure the bike to an immovable object, the bike itself IS the lock. The folks at Gizmag, always eager to embrace anything new (no matter how goofy and/or pointless), say that designing a bike to act as its own lock is "the best answer of all." Umm. . . maybe if you're more interested in riding a lock with wheels than an actual bicycle. And how hard is it just to carry a good U-lock?

Designed by three engineering students from Chile, the idea is simply that breaking the lock would destroy the bike, "which even the most feeble-minded petty criminal should realize is an utterly pointless exercise." Then again, one should never underestimate the stupidity of some criminals, especially petty bike thieves -- like the ones that will steal a $3000 bike and sell it on the street for $25 to buy a rock of meth. I can imagine some bike-thieving junkie succeeding in breaking the Yerka, only to figure out its dark secret after the fact. Then the owner might discover his bicycle is still where he left it, though reduced to a completely unrideable set of tubes, and perhaps stripped of whatever parts might still be useable.

Anyhow, the way it works is that the down-tube on the frame is multi-jointed (always a good sign when one is after structural integrity) and separable. Then an extra-long (extra-extra long) seat post is inserted through the jointed down-tube sections. Of course, in a high-crime area, one still needs to worry about stolen wheels and/or other components. The company recommends using locking bolts on the wheels, though I suppose if one is serious about keeping it all intact, one still might consider carrying some kind of extra cable lock. Oh well.

Many of Curnoe's self portraits show
him in a bicycle cap, or jersey.

After posting an article about the rebirth of Mariposa Bicycles recently, a reader suggested that I should also post something about Greg Curnoe, a Canadian artist and avid bicyclist who featured bicycles (including his own Mariposas) in his work. I've seen some of Curnoe's bicycle-themed work, and agreed it would make a good topic for discussion.

Greg Curnoe was primarily known as a painter, but he was also an organizer in Canada's artistic community, and a highly "regionalistic" artist. His "regionalism," or what I've read some call "nationalism," was reflected in one of Curnoe's famous bicycles and paintings. The bicycle was built by Mariposa in the 1970s. Mike Barry recalled that Curnoe was excited about discovering a custom frame builder in Toronto, and he ordered a bike from Barry's shop. When the mustard yellow bike was complete, Curnoe immediately added a statement to the bike's top-tube using cut-out letter decals. In typical Canadian style, it was in English on one side, French on the other. The statement? "Close the 49th Parallel etc," a statement that seems to capture a number of Canada-centric sentiments. The bike was the subject of more than one well-known painting, such as this watercolor:

Close the 49th Parallel calls to mind a number of sentiments
in U.S./Canadian relations.

Apparently, Curnoe's pro-Canada sentiments were sometimes construed by some as anti-American. In one famous instance, a mural he did for Montreal's Dorval International Airport, Homage to the R34, was removed for what amounted to political reasons. Curnoe claimed he wasn't anti-American - just pro-Canadian, but some Americans were offended. Whoever those people were, they must have hated the Guess Who's American Woman.

The 49th Parallel bike was damaged in an accident. When Curnoe brought it back to Mike Barry for repairs, he ordered another bike - a dedicated time-trial machine. Keep in mind that time-trial bikes in the 1970s were quite a bit different than such bikes today. But that green machine also served as the model for several famous paintings and drawings.

A watercolor of Curnoe's Mariposa TT.

Another image of the Mariposa T.T. was a limited edition print on plexiglass - and was meant to lean on the wall, much the way a bicycle might be parked.

The plexiglass print of the Mariposa TT. A copy of this work is in the National Gallery in Ottawa.

According to the Bicycle Specialties blog, the time-trial machine was also damaged in an accident with a car. When it was brought back to the shop for repairs, it was completely re-imagined as a "low-profile" time-trial bike, more in the fashion that was then becoming popular. And once again, the bike was the subject of several paintings.

"Mariposa Low Profile"

"Untitled" (orange bicycle) from 1990.

One thing people will notice about Curnoe's style is his almost shocking use of color. Bright, bold, and extremely eye-catching. According to the National Gallery of Canada, which houses some of Curnoe's works, this can be attributed to the artist's love of comic books when he was young. "As a child Curnoe enjoyed copying images from popular comic books as well as creating his own comic book characters and stories. His interest in the bright color palette of his comic books, and in recording the minutia of the world around him, would stay with him into adult life." That attention to "minutia" can be seen in some of the bicycle paintings, in that Curnoe would record a complete list of build details, such as tubing, components, builders, etc., about the bicycle in the painting.

Tragically, Greg Curnoe's life was cut short while he was doing what he loved - riding his bicycle. In 1992, Curnoe was riding with the London Centennial Wheelers club when a driver in a pickup truck plowed through the group. Curnoe was killed, and six others were seriously injured. The driver, who was described as "distracted," was later acquitted of all charges. Mike Barry wrote later, "That morning we lost not only one of Canada's most prominent artists but also one of the nicest, most cheerful persons one could meet. Greg it seems was always smiling and never more so than when he was riding his bike or doing his artwork."

Friday was the first day of summer break for my kids. I'm a full-time teacher, so it's summer break for me, too.

We spent our first day of break doing something we love to do - riding our bikes on the Ohio & Erie Canal Towpath in the Cuyahoga Valley National Park.

We took my early '80s Specialized Stumpjumper with the double Trail-A-Bike tagalong trailer, which makes it easy for us to stay together. That Stumpjumper is a truck, let me tell you. Altogether with the Trail-A-Bike attached, the thing is a family train and gets a lot of second looks and comments.

Our ride began at a spot called the Botzum Trailhead, just on the edge of Akron, and I thought we were just going to ride a few miles north to Szlay's Fruit Market -- a popular stop along the path. Friday was not only the first day of summer break, but it was also opening day at the market. Once we got going, the Retro-kids decided they wanted to ride all the way to Deep Lock, which is just outside the village of Peninsula, right in the heart of the national park, and easily twice as far away.

On the way to Peninsula, we crossed over a boardwalk that bridges a beaver marsh. I've never actually seen a beaver there, but one can see their dens, dams, and other handiwork. On the boardwalk, the kids like to stop and look for fish, birds, and other wildlife. Blue herons are a common sight, as are ducks, geese, painted turtles, carp, and bluegill.

The Retro-kids spot a snapping turtle in the marsh.

And there's the turtle. His shell is probably about 15 inches across.

After that stop, we continued on our way to Deep Lock. On the way, this happens:

Retro-kid: "Dad, I think we need to stop."
Retrogrouch: "What's wrong."
Retro-kid: "Something broke."

We stop, and I see that the plastic Shimano shift lever on the Trail-A-Bike has basically exploded. The main screw that holds the mechanism together fell out the bottom somewhere on the trail. We walked around a bit looking at the ground, but seriously, it could have been anywhere.

I decided that it was only another mile or so from Deep Lock to Peninsula where there is a bike shop. I picked up what shifter pieces we had, and we rode on to the village for a visit to Century Cycles. It didn't seem critical that the kids would need to shift for a few miles. I figured it was a long shot that the shop would have the right screw to put the lever back together, but we lucked out. A little searching in the bins turned up one that fit. Fantastic. Back down the trail.

At 17 feet, Lock 28 North, or Deep Lock, is the deepest (as the name implies) of the locks on the old canal. It is situated about a mile south of Peninsula. The girls like to run around it looking for frogs.

Frog-spotting.

Showing off the cycling gloves they talked me into buying them at the bike shop.

There's the family train, in front of Lock 28 North - aka Deep Lock.

After visiting the lock, it was time to start heading back south. Next stop, Szlay's fruit market. By this time, though, the kids were starting to tire a bit of the saddles. For the next couple of miles, I kept hearing this from the younger Retro-kid:

"Are we there yet? I can't feel my butt!"

The familiar red rooftops of Szlay's barn and fruit market soon appeared. The market is a great oasis on a bike ride in the CVNP. Weekends, especially, are great, as they have soft-serve ice cream, hot dogs, roasted sweet corn, and other treats in addition to the usual selection of awesome produce. We stopped for a treat and sat on a gliding bench/table.

The Retro-kids enjoy cold treats at Szlay's.

Playing on the old-time farm tractor. The Cuyahoga Valley Scenic Railroad train can just be seen passing by in the background.

Well rested, we started back to the Botzum trailhead. Suddenly we spotted an unexpected surprise sunning itself in the trail. Another snapping turtle.

One of the girls was afraid to get too close. The other got close enough for a picture.

When we got back to the trailhead, the kids heaved a huge sigh of relief. They had a good time, but the 13 or so miles was a long ride for them. Not so much for me, though it's quite a workout towing them behind me.

First day of summer break - and the start of another nice summer of riding memories with the Retro-kids.

I'm sure it's no secret by now that there's a new Hour Record in cycling. Bradley Wiggins rode 54.526 km in an hour on Sunday, breaking the previous record set by Alex Dowsett at 52.937 km. The last time I wrote about the Hour Record, last September, it was Jens Voigt who had set a new record under newly revised UCI rules. Voigt's record lasted barely longer than a month, and it has changed hands a few times from then to now.

Bradley Wiggins on his way to 54.526 km.

I had some history on the Hour Record back in May, 2014, at the time when the UCI had just revised the rules for the event. Previously, in the face of what appeared to be almost an "arms race" of new aerodynamic bicycles, equipment, and unusual riding positions, the UCI had restricted Hour Record attempts to equipment not much different than what was available to Eddy Merckx in his 1972 record. But last year, in the interest of opening the sport of cycling to more innovation, the UCI relaxed the equipment regulations. "This kind of evolution is positive for cycling generally and for the Hour Record in particular," said president Brian Cookson. "This record will regain its attraction for both the athletes and cycling fans." Although I argued that relaxing the rules has once again made the record a contest of machines more than men, it seems Cookson was right when he said it would attract more attention. In the year since the rule change, there have been numerous attempts at breaking it.

Many are saying that it will be hard to beat Wiggins' distance, though I know a lot of people are saying they'd like to see Fabian Cancellara give it a try. Cancellara was one of the first to draw attention to the Hour Record last year when he expressed interest in an attempt. Interestingly, he put his plans on hold when the UCI relaxed the equipment regulations. He was apparently looking forward to a record attempt on a traditional track bike. I know us retrogrouches would love to see that.

Wiggins used a Pinarello Bolide time-trial bike, modified for
the track. It was designed with input from Jaguar.

Even Eddy Merckx has said that the Wiggins record will last for some time, though he still hedged his bets by suggesting that someone like Cancellara could have what it takes. "You must be more than gifted to ride further," said Merckx. "Few of the current peloton can go faster."

There's probably something to that assessment. I watched Wiggins time trial in his 2012 Tour de France victory, and later that year in his gold-medal-winning time trial performance, and his technique is hard to fault. He is incredibly efficient. That same flawless efficiency could be seen in his Hour Record ride. As CyclingWeekly described it, "Throughout the attempt, Wiggins barely shifted his position in the saddle . . . with a perfectly level back. Even in the excruciating final 10 minutes Wiggins only dipped his head slightly, the only sign that he was pushing himself to the limit."

No Lack of Controversy

Oddly enough, the recent regulation relaxation hasn't put an end to disputes about equipment. Steve Collins, who coached Alex Dowsett in his record ride, has claimed that Wiggins' bike violated the rules because the handlebars were custom-made for him. "For attempts like that it should all be production available so you can buy it off the shelf. You can't get 3D-printed handlebars moulded to your own arms to make it easier for your own attempt." It will be interesting to see where that discussion goes, but I don't foresee the UCI nullifying the new record.

A Retrogrouch Record

Though it's a long-shot, I for one would still like to see Fabian Cancellara buck the current trend and take on the record with a traditional bike, as he originally had planned. Round tubed frame. Spoked wheels. Traditional track bike drop bars. But there'd be no way to break the current record with its reliance on special handlebars, disc wheels, and other aerodynamic tricks. And for that reason, other than personal satisfaction and appealing to a certain "purist" sentiment, there really wouldn't be much reason for anyone to make such an attempt. And it would be unlikely that the sponsors would back the effort. If he didn't break the new record, all that would get reported is that he tried and failed. Only us retrogrouches and purists would applaud it. It wouldn't help sell exotic new bikes, though.

But the thing about keeping a tight control on equipment is that it remains a competition of men, not machines. Moreso, it allows an easier comparison between riders and record holders from different eras. As Cancellara had said last year, "The whole appeal of the Hour Record for me is that you are competing against riders from the past. I would have loved to race Eddy (Merckx) in the Classics, or in a time trial, but it's not possible." Eddy Merckx rode 49.431 km in 1972. In a manner of speaking, Merckx's "traditional equipment" or "pure" record stood until Chris Boardman (who previously rode 56.375 on an aero monocoque bike and his "Superman" position) rode 49.441 in 2000. Who was the real Superman?

The last record set on traditional equipment was 49.7 km. I think that's a good target for a "Retrogrouch Hour Record." Too bad it's unlikely anyone will try to break it.

The folks over at Rapha have an imaginative approach to memory. There's often talk about "vintage style" in their marketing for their super-expensive cycling clothes, and on their website and blog, but I sometimes wonder if they have people there who actually remember riding bikes before about 1990 or so. I just don't think things were as they "remember" them.

On the Rapha site right now, they have a story about the recently revived Stelbel brand, and a collaboration they're promoting with them. For those who don't remember, Stelbel was one of the first TIG-welded road bikes -- first available in the '70s. Stelbel was founded in Italy by Stelio Belletti, who worked in his father's shop welding tubes for aircraft and motorcycle applications. He thought TIG-welding would be a good way to build a bicycle. It was a big departure from what was available at the time, though TIG-welding would become the norm for steel, aluminum, and titanium frames by the mid 1990s (which was ironically soon after the time that Stelbel ceased production).

For the collaboration, Rapha is offering a special "retreat" to Tuscany (and specially priced for members of the 1% club) in time for the L'Eroica ride, and participants will have the opportunity to buy a special Rapha-themed Stelbel bike, featuring a "custom Rapha design aesthetic" with vintage components "individually sourced" (which probably means they have someone scouring eBay as a full-time job). The 3-day trip costs $3100 per person, and there is no price listed for the bike. Expect it to be at least as much as the trip, if not more. NOS Campy doesn't run cheap.

A limited-edition Rapha-Stelbel collaboration.

I've NEVER been enthusiastic about welded bikes. Structurally, there's nothing wrong with welding. But the real advantage (and the reason it is so common today) is that it's cheap, not because it's pretty. It's far less labor-intensive than an artfully crafted lugged frame. But for all Rapha's talk about aesthetics, as far as I'm concerned, welding is boring. And yes, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but check out this lovely prose from the Rapha story:

"Think Bianchi celeste. Think Coppi (& Giulia). Think the maglia rosa. Indeed, the Italians are credited for developing the bicycle from a functional, no-frills utility into an aesthetic plaything, as the post-WWII commercial boom flushed the pockets of everyday men. With handsome pro racers sitting astride the first bicycles painted bright colours, the eyes of the rest of the world glanced oh-so enviously towards glamorous Italy."

Nice, but I didn't know the Italians invented bright colors (and in many cases, the French aesthetic was not only beautiful, but remained more functional!). And where do TIG-welded bikes fit into this glamorous aesthetic? Those "handsome pro racers" were invariably straddling bikes with carefully filed and thinned lugs.

At least the welds are smoothed.

The article contains more debatable prose. "TIG welding allows steel tubing to be joined together in a stronger, lighter and more aesthetically pleasing way than the fixed handles called 'lugs' with which bicycles were put together before Stelio came along." Lugs are "fixed handles"? What the hell?

Stronger? Debatable. Lighter? Perhaps, but not enough to notice. More aesthetically pleasing? Please.

Rapha goes on to say that the Stelbel is "just the sort of classic model that vintage bicycle aficionados ride at the ever-popular L'Eroica sportive in Tuscany." That's not only debatable, but I believe that even a cursory look at the majority of bikes used in the event would make it demonstrably untrue. It would be difficult to find anyone at L'Eroica riding a TIG-welded bike -- even an original Stelbel (there were only about 2000 ever made). Participants must ride bikes from 1987 or earlier -- and that usually means lugs. Newer bikes can be ridden, but they have to be built and equipped in the same style as those meeting the 1987 cutoff. Nothing in the L'Eroica rules specifically bans TIG-welded bikes, but let's face it, most "aficionados" would be on lugged frames.

No - it seems to me that the folks at Rapha, for all their talk about "epic" adventures and "vintage aesthetic," are far better at marketing than memory.

Last month I took a look at a lot of car companies making bicycles -- and somehow I missed this one from Mazda. Unlike the other examples I've shown, it doesn't appear that Mazda has partnered up with any bike companies, and the bike they've produced isn't likely to be for sale. Rather, the company's design team has crafted the bicycle, along with other non-automotive products and artworks to highlight their particular design aesthetic. The bicycle, a sofa, a copper wine cooler, a traditional lacquered box, and some other works, were displayed as part of the event "Mazda Design: The Car as Art" in Milan.

According to a Mazda press release, the "Bike by KODO Concept" is a track racer that "seeks to express the inner beauty of the bicycle." Mazda goes on to say that the minimalist design was constructed from the least possible number of parts, with a frame "painstakingly formed by hammering a single sheet of steel." I'm not sure how that would be possible -- but perhaps they only mean the upper portion in red, which does, indeed, look like one-piece construction. The lower part looks for all the world to me like carbon fiber tubing.

Mazda goes on to mention the hand-stitched leather saddle with red thread, intended to mimic the interior of their MX-5 sports car. Other than that, there aren't a lot of details about the bike. It has carbon-fiber wheels, and an extremely low-profile one-piece bar and stem combination. It's a single speed track bike with no brakes. That's about all one can tell from the photos.

According to Mazda, the Bike by KODO Concept is supposed to reflect "the expression of two key sensibilities rooted in Japanese aesthetics: RIN, a sense of self-restrained dignity, and EN, an alluring sensuality that speaks directly to the senses." I suppose it does have a certain minimalist look, but is it beautiful? I'll let readers form their own opinions on that.

Love it or loathe it, don't bother looking for it at any bike shop, or even at the local Mazda dealer. The Bike by KODO Concept is just as the name implies - just a concept project. and is unlikely to be for sale.

Few people can be said to have dominated their respective sports the way that Eddy Merckx dominated bicycle racing from the late 60s through most of the 70s.

A much younger Eddy Merckx, wearing yellow in the '69
Tour de France.

Born in Belgium on June 17, 1945, Merckx began racing in 1961 and eventually racked up some 80 wins as an amateur before turning pro in 1965. He spent that first year with the Solo/Superia team, then moved over to the Peugeot-BP-Michelin team through 1967. With Peugeot, Merckx competed in his first Giro d'Italia, and won two editions of Milan San-Remo.

From 1968 - 1970, Merckx rode with the Faema team - and during those years he won 4 Grand Tours and 8 Classics. He won his first Tour de France in 1969 with a performance so completely dominating that he got not only the Yellow Jersey for the General Classification, but he also won the Green Jersey for Points Leader, the Mountains Classification (which would later become the Polka Dot Jersey), the Combined Classification, and the Combativity Award. Had the "Best Young Rider" category existed in 1969, he'd have won that too. In addition the Faema team won the Team Classification. In that TdF appearance, Merckx earned the nickname "the Cannibal" for the way he devoured the competition.

An older Eddy - Still has that fierce stare, though.

From 1971 to 1976, he raced with the Molteni team and won 6 more grand tours, including a Triple Crown (Giro d'Italia, Tour de France, and World Championship in the same season) a bunch more classics, and set a new Hour Record. He had won the Tour de France 4 times in a row before being asked by TdF organizers not to compete in 1973. He came back and won it again in '74, tying the record with Jacques Anquetil. His 1972 Hour Record would stand unbeaten for 12 years (or longer if one considers various UCI rule changes that have happened in the intervening years). His performance started to decline after 1976 and he retired after the 1978 season. With some help from Ugo DeRosa, who built some of Merckx's racing bikes, Merckx opened his own bicycle company in 1980.

Merckx won 445 races out of 1585 that he entered in his professional career, plus the 80 he won as an amateur. His major wins include one Vuelta a España, 5 Giro d'Italia, 5 Tour de France, and 3 World Championships as well as numerous other stage races. Among the Classics, he won the Tour of Flanders 2 times, Paris-Roubaix 3 times, Gent-Wevelgem 3 times, Liege-Bastogne-Liege 5 times, and the Milan-San Remo a record 7 times. In fact, the only race among the Classics he didn't win was Paris-Tours.

His records include: Most career victories (525); Most victories in one season (54); Most stage wins in the Tour de France (34); Most days in the yellow jersey (96); Most victories in the Classics (28); and Most victories in Grand Tours (11).

Think about great athletes in almost any professional sport and ask the fans "Who is the greatest?" and it is almost always a topic for discussion and debate. Ask any cyclist or racing fan the question, "Who is the greatest racer of all time" and it would be hard to find anybody who would give a different response than Eddy Merckx.

Happy Birthday, Eddy.

Going through a box of old magazines and catalogs, I came across this Mercian Cycles catalog from 1969. Regular Retrogrouch readers know I've been a big Mercian fan for a lot of years and have eight of them -- from a 1973 Superlight to a 2012 Vincitore. The only models I don't have are a tandem, and a "Miss Mercian" ladies model. As far as that goes, somebody had a really nice '70s-era ladies model in a mixte configuration with a lot of cool French components on eBay recently, and I thought about getting it for my wife, but I took a little too long to think about it and somebody snatched it up with a "buy it now" option. Oh well.

The front of the catalog lists W. Betton and his family as company directors -- Bill Betton, one of Mercian's frame builders, had purchased the company in 1965 from Ethel Crowther, who was the ex-wife of one of Mercian's founders, Tom Crowther. The catalog also lists the shop location as 191 London Road, Derby. They would move out of that location a couple years later, in 1971. The current shop is on Shardlow Road in Alvaston, which is very near Derby.

I scanned the catalog and thought I'd share the images here.

The first pages include the company guarantee, and a description of the Professional model, which they say was first introduced in 1967 for the Mercian-Bantel pro racing team. The Professional is easily identified by the extra-long spearpoint tangs on the bottom bracket shell.

The next pages have pictures of some of the head lugs used - for the Vincitore, the King of Mercia, and the Superlight models, as well as the wrapover seat stay treatment. There is also a description of the Superlight model, which has lugs which are decorative, yet cut down to the minimum.

The next pages describe the Vincitore with its elaborate hand-cut lugs, the King of Mercia model, the Super Vigorelli track/time trial model, and the Olympique "all-rounder."

The Campionissimo was a pretty standard all-round road machine - and the only complete bicycle listed in the Mercian lineup. Everything else was sold as a frame set, to be built up with the owner's choice of parts.

These two insert pages listed the full range of frame options and renovation/repair costs. I know it was 1969, but the prices still seem unbelievably low.

And here is the price list for the frames. £25 for a new Vincitore? Oh, to have a time machine.

I hope you enjoyed this little blast from the past. I have a couple other old catalogs as well - I'll probably put them up in upcoming posts.

I'm guessing that any fan of vintage and classic bicycles is familiar with the L'Eroica ride events. Having begun in Italy, participating riders mount vintage bicycles (pre-1987, according to the rules) and ride over the white roads of Italian wine country. L'Eroica is a celebration of classic bikes, good wine and food, and all things Italian.

Back in April, Bianchi announced that they would be releasing a new vintage-inspired bicycle model in honor of their global sponsorship of the L'Eroica events. The L'Eroica rides have expanded to include rides in the US, Japan, Spain, and the UK, in addition to the original Italian event.

According to the Bianchi press release, the new L'Eroica model would be made in Italy, have a custom build kit including Campagnolo components and a Brooks leather saddle, and would be certified by the L'Eroica commission for use in any of their events. I know there was a lot of speculation, and even some skepticism about what the new model would be like among vintage bike enthusiasts.

The Tipo Corsa frame set. Not the
basis of the new Bianchi L'Eroica bike.

In the Classicrendezvous group for instance, some wondered if it was just going to be a complete bike built around the company's Tipo Corsa steel frame set. At first glance, that might seem like a decent plan -- though sharp-eyed critics would note that, while the Tipo Corsa frame is lugged steel and has a vintage-inspired paint scheme, it has a rather unfortunate-looking "dog-leg" of a fork rake, and is likely made somewhere in Asia -- not Italy. It gets close to the mark for some. Falls short for others.

Well, at long last, this past weekend at the L'Eroica Brittania, participants in that event got what may have been (at least to my knowledge) the first public glimpses of the new model. Wesley Hatakeyama, of the California L'Eroica event, was there at the UK ride and snapped a few pictures at the Bianchi tent (thanks for sharing, Wes!). Some will be thrilled at what they see. Others may be slightly let down. But let's take a look at the new bike.

At first look, it does appear to be a different frame than the Tipo Corsa. Note the chromed lugs, lower fork legs, and partial rear triangle. It does appear to have a more graceful fork rake too. Wes reiterated that the frame is built in Italy, not Asia.

The bike has Dia Compe centerpull brakes and looks like it offers a ton of tire clearance. Large-volume tires are recommended on the L'Eroica rides, as many of the roads are unpaved. Downtube shift levers (a must, according to the L'Eroica rulebook) look like Dia Compe ratcheting levers. Interesting detail: brake cable cable clips on the top tube instead of brazed-on guides.

Campagnolo derailleurs and a 10-speed cassette -- surprisingly legal for L'Eroica. I'm not positive about the crank, but it looks like a Dia Compe ENE with a 3-arm spider. The large-flange hubs are probably also made by Dia Compe.

Dia Compe ENE crank.

It appears that when the folks at Bianchi announced that the bike would be built with Campagnolo components, they only meant the derailleurs. Then again, I wondered how they were going to get modern Campy to fit the L'Eroica rules. Most of the other components seem to be made by Dia Compe -- which to somebody like me is fine. The parts are well made and look good. But if somebody was hoping for a full-Campagnolo bike to accommodate the rules of a vintage bike ride, they were maybe being a bit unrealistic.

So, what are the rules?

Here are some relevant points: "Historical Bikes (also called Bici Eroiche, in Italian) are all road racing bikes built in 1987 or earlier . . . These bicycles most likely have a steel frame . . . must have shift levers on the down tube of the frame; exceptions include pre-1980 non indexed bar-end gear shifters and rod/hand manual operated front derailleurs . . . pedals should be with toe clips and straps . . . the brake cables must pass outside and over the handlebars . . . wheels must have at least 32 spokes laced to a low profile rim (20 mm depth or less, except for the wood rims); the rims must be of either steel, aluminum or wood . . . both tubular tyres and clinchers with inner tubes are allowed . . . we invite participants to fit saddles from the same period of the bicycles, so a model of 1987 or earlier, or a vintage model of modern production such as Brooks leather saddles, Cinelli replicas, San Marco, etc."

And this section deals particularly with the acceptance of newer bikes made with a vintage style:

"Vintage-Looking Bikes with steel frame from new or recent construction with vintage look and characteristics may be used only if they are road racing bikes assembled using vintage components or replicated parts similar to the original as described above. In particular if the bikes are inspired by the design of road racing bicycles of the 1970’s and 1980’s, they must comply with rules a), b), and c) above, regarding shift levers, toe clips and straps, and brake cables."

Notice that it doesn't mention anything about the number of gears on the rear wheel.

I haven't seen anything about a price for the new bike. Even Bianchi's website doesn't have pictures of the bike or any further information about it. (I don't know if anybody out there has as much information as what you're getting right here right now!). The quality of the frame is probably very good, and while some may be disappointed at the component choices, it seems to me that they are of high quality, and should help keep the price reasonable. Now we just have to get the official word from Bianchi.

Now that you've been convinced to get yourself a "Gravel" bike to replace your "Cyclocross" bike (which was totally unsuited for riding on gravel, you know) there's another new bike you have to add to your stable. Are you ready for "All-Road" bikes?

Can you put fenders on that?

I'm not sure I know exactly how an All-Road bike differs from the Gravel bikes of last year, or how those Gravel bikes were so different from Cyclocross bikes before them. But if the new Cannondale Slate is an indication, I suppose the difference is that it should have a suspension fork (?). Yep. Riding on unpaved roads now requires suspension forks. Or at least, I think that's the implication here. And once people become convinced that a road bike needs suspension forks, it's only a matter of time before full-suspension becomes the "next big thing" for the road.

I always considered this something
of an "All-Road" bike. "Too bad it
doesn't have suspension" though.

Call me skeptical. I mean, I'm not even convinced suspension is needed on most mountain bikes for cryin' out loud. That doesn't stop people from looking at my early '80s vintage Stumpjumper and saying "Cool bike! Too bad it doesn't have suspension!" But built up with mustache bars and semi-slick tires, it seems to have the ability to handle just about any kind of road surface, paved or otherwise, and a lot of off-road trails, too.

The Cannondale Slate is generating a lot of buzz with its 650B wheels and its "Lefty" single-sided suspension fork with 30mm of travel. The company released a video of the new bike featuring cyclocross racer Tim Johnson. They declare the bike to be a "whole new type of bike" that's not about racing. The video then goes on to show the bike being ridden . . . well. . . like a race bike. It's also "much more capable" the project director declares. Well - yeah - it can go places a narrowly focused race bike can't go. But there are lots of bikes already available that can do the same thing. If you're reading this blog, you probably already have one. They're not exactly new.

Don't get me wrong - I love the fact that people are getting excited about bikes that can fit fatter tires and handle the rough stuff. But there's more to being "much more capable" than having fatter tires and being able to ride on unpaved roads. Can the bike accommodate fenders? I don't think the Slate can. Unpaved roads get pretty nasty when it rains, though. Can it handle racks? I don't think the Slate can do that, either. But there are lots of bikes that can handle nimbly on the road, and still let a person explore the unpaved wonders -- and even keep the rider reasonably dry, comfortable, and unburdened.

That's a "capable" bike.

When I first got into bikes, touring bikes were all the rage. They were meant mostly for paved adventures, but were capable of much more. A lot of lightly-used vintage examples are still out there, available for next to nothing. Updated with newer wheels and tires (in some cases, they can be converted easily to 650B) and they can become even more versatile. The ability to accommodate large-volume tires isn't new, either -- it's just that people kind of forgot about it as road bikes became more and more focused on racing (despite the fact that few people actually race). Funny thing, I have a 1973 Mercian Superlight that is currently shod with 32 mm tires, and it still has tons of clearance -- and that was a high-end racing bike in its day! Bikes with decent tire clearance have long been out there, but until recently, they weren't the bikes getting all the attention.

All-Road bikes. The latest "must have" market segment, in a market that keeps getting sliced narrower and narrower. Enjoy them while you can -- before the industry moves on to the next big thing.

The Retrogrouch has limited internet access for the next few days - so blog updates will be likewise limited. But if you checked in for something new today, I don't want to leave you totally frustrated. So I have here a link to a website I recently found that turned out to be a pretty good resource for vintage bicycle enthusiasts. The Saddlewax Bicycle Saddle Archive has a lot of cool information on saddles from around the world - including pictures of different models, catalog scans, and other info. I found it useful when trying to find some information on older Brooks leather saddles, and also on older Cinelli Unicanitor saddles.

I'm not sure how long the site has been there, but it is still listed as "under construction." The page master is Amir, a bicycle collector whom I have encountered from time to time with the Classic Rendezvous group, and I believe we've bought or sold vintage bike components to/from each other once or twice in the past.

Amir is also interested in expanding the information on the site, so if you have anything to contribute -- from interesting older saddles, photos, catalogs, advertisements or more -- there is contact info on the site. Check it out if you get a chance.

The Retrogrouch is still working with limited internet access. But if you checked in here for something new to read, here's a little something to tide you over.

I've written about bike weight before - and how obsessing about it is a pointless thing. To my mind, things like comfort, convenience, durability, reliability, and beauty are all more important than weight. My bikes are all steel. My components are always aluminum or steel. My wheels have 32 or 36 spokes. I like fenders because if the roads are wet, their usefulness more than offsets whatever weight they add to my bike. I like racks and nice-quality (and attractive) saddlebags and/or panniers - again, because when I need to carry things, their utility is worth every ounce of weight. I'd much rather carry loads on my bike than on my back.

Some months back, I encountered this post from Hiawatha Cyclery in the Minneapolis area. In it, there is another viewpoint on weight (HERE). The writer, Jim, pretty much agrees with things I've said myself - but it's nice to read the way someone else might put it.

Here's an excerpt:

"I don't weigh my bikes. Every part or accessory on my bike was put there for a good reason, and usually that reason is much more of a priority than the 'weight penalty' of using that part or accessory. My bike gets me to work, allows me to have some offroad fun along the way, and haul a load of groceries on the way home. I've accepted that this level of versatility involves a compromise. To torture a car analogy, I'm opting for the versatility of the SUV, rather than the fun impracticality of the 2-seater sport coupe. Even though I don't really care what my bike weighs, when I'm looking at bikes and components, I often take note of what they weigh for reasons that aren't directly about weight. This is especially true of tires and, to a lesser extent, rims. Lightweight tires tend to be more supple and have a better ride quality, which is a priority for me. A lot of the negative associations people have about heavy bikes are the result of lousy-rolling tires. And the weight of a rim can indicate whether it was designed for big hit dirt jumping or for superlight road racing - I'd rather not mix up the two. Weights of handlebars and seatposts and derailleurs and such aren't on my radar."

Hiawatha Cyclery, by the way, was the kind of bike shop that catered more to commuters, tourists and "bicycle lifestyle" types of riders - as opposed to the racer wannabes that seem to dominate some shops. Unfortunately, I just read that the shop is in the process of closing up even as I write this now. I'm sorry to hear that.

I expect to be back to more regular posts next week.

In the never-ending quest for more incremental gains in speed, Specialized has a new weapon with which performance addicts can max out their credit cards: the Specialized S-Works Venge ViAS aero road bike. The bike-blogosphere is all a-tingle over the $12,500 aerodynamic wünderbike.

Peter Sagan and Mark Cavendish will both be riding these things in this year's Tour de France.
Their teammates, however, will not.

"Explosive next-gen aero bike aces wind tunnel and McLaren data modeling tests" cries one blog. "Yes, the Venge ViAS is faster. Much faster." The big claim which keeps getting repeated by every cheerleading blog is that Specialized says that the bike will save a rider 120 seconds over 40 kilometers.

There is a pretty sketchy catch to that claim, though. Read on.

One of the secrets to the bike's aerodynamic slipperiness are these special faired-in brakes. I'm assuming they are unique to this particular bike, and they look like they'd be a nightmare to work on.

Numerous details combine to lower the bike's drag coefficient -- from a special low-profile stem and handlebars to integrated brakes. Everything's proprietary, too, so there'll be no home-mechanic alterations or "upgrades" down the road. Deep-section aerodynamic wheels round out the package. The bike is the first to be fully developed in Specialized's wind tunnel, which they call the "Win Tunnel" (very cheeky), and the target for its efficiency was the company's own Shiv time-trial bike. The company brags that every tube profile has been scrutinized and "massaged" to make it more aerodynamically efficient.

So, what about that 120 seconds over 40 km claim?

The comparison is not between competing aero road bikes, but rather, between the Venge ViAS and the company's own Tarmac "normal" road bike. To make the claims more blurry, the tests consisted of the rider on the Venge wearing an aero skin suit and aerodynamic helmet, while the rider on the Tarmac was wearing more "standard" bike clothing and helmet. Even Specialized's own calculations say that about half of the time savings could be attributed to those differences.

Here's a telling quote from one of the cheerleading sites:

"Before the launch was held, there was heated debate inside the company about whether inviting journalists to test in this way was a good idea. What if the results weren't impressive? Perhaps this is why we tested aero setup vs standard setup instead of just the bikes themselves with identical clothing and helmet. Nonetheless, even if the bike difference was half, it is still a huge difference."

Umm. . . no, it really isn't.

More than that, though, is the fact that much of the calculating comes from computer modeling and lab testing -- but every company that pushes some new technological breakthrough loves to point to lab tests that "prove" their new product will save X seconds over Y miles. How much of that holds up to "real world" riding or racing, though? Can a bike that's being raced in the middle of a peloton deliver on that promise of time saved? Or will the effect of riding in a pack (even at the front of that pack) negate most of the claims in the heat of competition?

Lastly, unless someone is a top-level professional racer, what does it even matter?

Only a skeptical and cynical retrogrouch would bother to ask those questions, though. The performance-addicts will happily put themselves into debt over those questionable 120 seconds.

Remember when "10-speed" really just meant "10-speeds," as in, total? 2 chainrings x 5 cogs? Yeah - those days are gone.

I just read this post from Performance Bicycle -- you know, the internet and mail order bike shop -- about 10 vs. 11-speed drivetrains. Our Take: 10-Speed vs. 11-Speed. All I can think is, who cares? Keep in mind, most of my bikes max out at 6 or 7, so I'm probably not the best person to comment -- though I do have a bikes with 9 and 10 speed cassettes. Sorry Nigel Tufnel, but I have no plans to go to 11.

Needless to say, but the reviewer at Performance is a fan of 11. "I've been riding both 11-speed Campagnolo and 10-speed SRAM for several years now, and I switch between the two often enough to be able to tell you there are some definite differences between 10 and 11-speed drivetrains." He goes on to say, "Generally, adding an extra cog means you have more gear ratios to choose from which can make your riding more efficient." Really?

Yes, adding one extra cog gives more gear ratios (two more, to be exact, assuming we're using a double-ring crank). But more efficient? Hmmm. . . I don't know if this person uses a gear ratio calculator or not, but chances are, there's a fair amount of gear ratio duplication -- that is, some of those chainring-to-cog combinations give actual gear ratios that are so close as to be indistinguishable from one another. One can get such ratio duplication with 5 and 6-speed drivetrains. How many duplicates are there in these 10 and 11-speed setups? In any case, the efficiency is debatable.

From that point, I'm reminded of this quote from Jobst Brandt -- and keep in mind, this was from the time that 9-speeds were the "state of the art":

"I use down tube shifters (seldom) and use a 6-speed freewheel because 5-speeds are dead. . . I'm not preoccupied with always being in the right gear or following some unwritten precepts on cadence and the like. I ride a gear that's about right and leave it at that. . . The range of gears hasn't changed much in the last 50 years, only the number of gears in that range. I don't believe they are useful, necessary, or any good for the design of the rear wheel. Five or six is plenty, nine is gratuitous hardware and multiple redundancy."

The article goes on to answer other questions people have about the pros and cons of "upgrading" to 11 speeds, such as durability, shifting performance, and compatibility.

About shifting performance, the article says that shifting "isn't really affected by the addition of another cog." He continues, "If anything the 11-speed shifting feels smoother and crisper than 10-speed." I wonder how much of that is due to the cogs and spacing, and how much of it is due to different shift mechanisms (in his case, Campy vs. SRAM). Or if the difference is in the particular chain and cog designs.

However, the writer's next point is worth highlighting - especially to a retrogrouch. "My 11-speed bikes do need to be put into the stand a little more often (about once every two weeks) for some basic rear derailleur adjustments, especially after high mileage weeks." Every two weeks? Jeezus. My Rivendell has 9 speeds with indexing bar-end shifters, and I can't remember the last time I had to make an adjustment. With most of my bikes, which still use friction-only shifters, I never have to make adjustments for cable tension.

I found one point in the article that may be just flat out incorrect - though it could depend on the brand so I'm holding back a bit. On the question "Do you need new wheels" the answer is a definitive Yes. "Contrary to what you read on many bike message boards, you do need a new rear wheel." Now, I'm not certain about Shimano or SRAM, but I know absolutely that Campagnolo's hub and cassette body design is the same whether for 9, 10, or 11-speeds (see HERE). As far as the others go, I know they are still designed around the same 130 mm spacing that's used for 9 and 10-speeds, so I don't know why they'd be different.

Are 11-speed wheels less durable? Here, the answer is "Maybe" and "it depends on your riding style." Again, I'd question whether there's much difference between 9, or 10, or 11 in this regard, since they use basically the same axle width, and probably have the same amount of dish. But that amount of dish is not really good for a rear wheel anyhow.

Is it worth it? The article says "That all depends," but then the writer goes on to say how much he loves having that extra 11th gear. "I definitely do notice that it's not there when I switch back to a 10-speed bike. . . When I switch back to a 10-speed bike, I sometimes struggle to find the right gear."

Oh please. I switch back and forth between bikes with 9 or 10-speed cassettes, and bikes with 5 or 6-speed freewheels all the time, and the only difference I see is that I shift a lot more often on the more modern bikes.

The last question was a funny one to me. "Why upgrade? Won't they just go to 12-speeds soon?" The writer says, "11 cogs are about as many gears as they'll be able to cram into the standard 130 mm rear spacing. To fit any more gears without sacrificing wheel durability, I believe that road bikes would need to adopt the MTB standard 135 mm rear spacing, and I don't see that happening any time soon."

Why not? I wouldn't rule it out -- but I won't celebrate it either.

10-speed vs. 11-speed? Come on. Does it really matter?

While people are mulling that one over, excuse me while I go out and ride my 2 x 5 "10-speed."

In an earlier post I had some scans of an old Mercian catalog from my collection - one from the 1960s. I have several others, including this one from the 1970s, a time that Mercian was probably at a high point, at least here in the U.S. At that time, and into the early 80s, the company's presence in the U.S. was pretty broad, as their frames were available from a number of bike shops, and even some of the big mail-order shops like Bikecology. To the best of my knowledge, this was the first full-color catalog Mercian offered. One of the things I like about it is seeing some of the classic color schemes pictured on its pages.

I have below some nice scans of the full catalog. Take a look!

The first page of the catalog says the company has been in business for 30 years (since 1946) so the catalog probably came out in the mid-to-late '70s. The text also explains that the company took its name from the ancient Kingdom of Mercia which once had its capitol near the town of Derby, where the company was located.

The Professional Model - introduced in 1968. The catalog touts the stiffness of the frame due to the long spearpoint tangs on the bottom bracket shell.

I dig all those multi-colored bands around the seat tube on this Vincitore.

The Superlight model is listed as a "time triallist's dream" as the lugs are cut down to the bare minimum (yet still somewhat ornate) to save weight. I have one from the early '70s that has pencil-thin seat stays. A great model - sadly, no longer in the Mercian lineup.

The Strada Speciale was a fairly recent addition to the lineup when this catalog came out. Mercian calls it a frame for the "discerning rider" who "prefers some individuality." It features clover-leaf cutouts in all the lugs, and also has the same "fastback" seat stay attachment (Mercian calls it "shot-in") that the Superlight has.

"Distinctive Mercian features" - like the ornate lugs of the Vincitore, or the minimalist lugs of the Superlight, the spearpoint bottom bracket of the Professional, and the fastback seat stays of the Superlight and Strada Speciale. Notice that the King of Mercia was available with Nervex Professional lugs as an option. I almost never see Mercians with Nervex lugs, but I sure would like to find one.

The King of Mercia was (maybe still is?) a fairly common model. It typically came with standard Prugnat lugs with a vaguely heart-shaped cutout in them, but had plenty of custom options. There's something kind of patriotic about that color scheme.

The Super Vigorelli track model.

Miss Mercian "ladies" model. I've also seen the Miss Mercian offered in a mixte configuration.

The Olympic was the closest thing to a "standard" production model. Mercian says it is for "general use and occasional racing." Buyers didn't have many custom options or get to specify geometry and the like, but they did get to choose colors. Later on, this would be re-named the "Classic."

The Campionissimo was more of a budget-oriented bike, but like the Olympic, one could still specify colors (provided they ordered direct from Mercian, I suppose). It was also sold as a complete bicycle.

Hope you enjoyed this little look back at the past. I assume one doesn't have to be a Mercian fan to enjoy a look at so many gorgeous classic steel frames.

I sat down this week to build a set of wheels. Building wheels is one of those jobs that any serious home mechanic should try some time. It's a rite of passage. Saint Sheldon Brown says of wheel building: "Learning to build wheels is an important milestone in the education of an apprentice mechanic. A 'mechanic' who has not mastered this basic skill cannot be considered to be a fully-qualified professional, and will always feel inferior to those who can list wheel building among their skills."

With the proliferation of special pre-built "boutique" wheels on quality bikes today, with their low spoke counts and carbon fiber rims, hand-building wheels may be something of a dying art. But it's a job I enjoy doing every now and then. I built my first pair when I was about 18 years old, with super lightweight tubular rims and classic Campagnolo Record hubs. That first pair didn't hold up well, and needed frequent re-truing. My second pair proved to be bomb-proof. Through college, I'd build wheels for my friends in the bike club, and almost all of my bikes today have hand-built wheels. It's been a few years since the last time I built a pair, though.

This set of wheels will be used on my 1980 Mercian Strada Speciale. The wheels that came with that bike (Campagnolo Tipo hubs and Rigida 1320 rims) were pretty badly out of true when I got it and had a flat spot or two. Somebody probably nailed some pretty bad potholes. On close examination I also noticed some deeply nicked spokes on the drive side of the rear wheel that indicated that somebody must have thrown the chain into the spokes, too. That could lead to spoke breakage at some point. I did my best to bring them back into shape, but after a few rides, they'd need more truing hygiene, and then again, and again. As I recall, those old Rigida rims were lovely and very light (for clinchers) but never very durable. With this set, I plan to go with a sturdier touring rim to gain some extra durability.

Getting Ready:

Getting ready to begin: Rims, hubs, spokes and nipples, a couple of spoke wrenches, and of course, Jobst Brandt's book The Bicycle Wheel. I never build a wheel without reviewing it. I always keep my spokes separated in bags, or bundled and labeled while I'm working so I don't mix them up. I have three different lengths. The longest ones are for the front wheel. There are two lengths for the rear wheel, with the shortest ones being for the drive side to help with the "dish."

I always felt that Sun rims were a little under-appreciated, maybe because they are comparatively inexpensive. But they are traditional-looking, seem well-made, and are pretty durable. They also still have eyelets at the spoke holes, which is something I appreciate. The CR18 is a fairly wide (22.5 mm) touring model that should hold up very well. They are a bit heavy, though. That's a normal trade-off, isn't it?

My hubs are some very smooth-spinning Suzue hubs from the '80s. They were originally made for 126 mm spacing, but I shortened the rear axle slightly for the Mercian's 120 mm width and 5-speed freewheel. I picked these up lightly used and very cheap. The bearings and races are perfect, and the bodies cleaned up nicely with a little effort and some aluminum polish.

My truing stand is an Artisan Tool & Die stand from the 1970s: made in Cleveland. It looks a lot like the classic Park model seen in many bike shops today. I've seen these advertised in old issues of Bicycling magazine (the ad on the right is from 1978). I've heard the company is still in business, but I'm certain they don't make bicycle tools anymore. I got this one from Al's Bike Shop in Cleveland when they went out of business some time in the '90s. Al sold me a bunch of his old shop tools when he closed up. The dishing tool is Campagnolo - also from Al's.

With all my materials and tools ready, I turned on the Tour on T.V. and started lacing spokes. I followed the steps for lacing and truing as they are set out in Jobst Brandt's book. Jobst lays it out clearly and concisely - and I think it's hard to go wrong following his advice. Some people refer to Sheldon Brown's site for their wheel building steps, and while Sheldon explains some things a little differently, I think his steps basically agree with Jobst's. Either way, I think a person will end up with a properly built wheel.

Finished Results:

There are certain things I've learned to look for in a well-built set of bicycle wheels. Some of them are functional or practical, some are structural, and some are just aesthetic attention to detail.

A well-built wheel has the rim oriented so that the label is readable from the drive side of the bike. This is also a good place to point out that many rims are drilled so that the spoke holes are staggered as opposed to being right down the centerline of the rim. It's important to get the wheel laced so that the spokes on the right side of the hub go to the holes closer to the right side of the rim, while those on the left side of the hub go to the left side of the rim. It seems obvious, but it's easy to mess it up.

At the valve hole, one wants to have the spokes more or less parallel - to leave more room for a pump head and to simplify tire inflation.

Sheldon Brown's site describes spokes as either "trailing" or "leading" spokes. When considering the rotation direction of the wheel (the blue arrow), the "trailing" spokes leave the hub at an angle pointing away from the rotation, while the "leading" spokes angle into the rotation. Another way to think of it is that the "trailing" spokes appear to be pulled through the rotation, while the "leading" spokes appear to be pushed. In any case the rear wheel should be built so that the "trailing" spokes are on the inside of the hub flanges, while the "leading" spokes are on the outside of the flanges. Sheldon explains that on a derailleur-equipped bike, it is important to do it this way as it slightly increases the clearance between the derailleur and the drive-side spokes. Nevertheless, I've seen a number of professional or even machine-built wheels that were the opposite. I suppose on a single-speed wheel, it wouldn't make any difference. Whether one follows Sheldon's build steps or Jobst's, the wheel should turn out this way.

This is called "attention to detail." It doesn't make any difference functionally, but I've often heard that the best wheel builders always have the hub oriented in the rim so that its logo can be read when looking through the rim's valve hole. Nailed it.

Once I got the wheels to where I was pretty satisfied with them, I took them to my local bike shop for a final check. One tool you might have noticed that I don't have in my arsenal is a spoke tension gauge, or tensiometer. Yes, I really should get one. But I don't mind letting the pro give them a final tension check to make sure they'll hold up well. As it turned out, my spoke tension was still a bit on the "loose" side, so Rich at Century Cycles brought the tension up a little.

All that's left to do now is apply some rim tape, mount some tires, and get them on the bike. Hope you enjoyed this little look at hand-built wheels.

With the 2015 Tour de France entering its second week, and me still not really paying much attention to it, I thought now would be a good time for some Retrogrouch TdF coverage: 1985.

Hiring LeMond onto La Vie Claire was probably a better
move for Hinault than for the young American.

When the 1985 Tour began, Bernard Hinault was the clear favorite. Laurent Fignon, the winner of the '83 and '84 editions of the Tour, was out for 1985 due to problems with his Achilles tendon which required surgery. Hinault looked to be poised for victory. He had won the Tour four times, and finished 2nd in '84. Earlier that year, he had won the Giro d'Italia and approached this edition of the TdF in top form. Not only that, but he had hired perhaps the next biggest rival to his winning ambitions away from the Renault team - Greg LeMond. LeMond had finished 3rd overall the previous year riding for Fignon. Now that he was on Hinault's La Vie Claire squad, it seemed a powerful threat may have been neutralized.

From the opening prologue time trial, Hinault put a stamp of authority on the race. Though he lost the yellow jersey in the first few stages when the sprinters tend to rule the field, Hinault managed to keep the time difference more than manageable. This was helped by a stage 3 win for La Vie Claire in the team time trial, so that by stage 8, Hinault could take the yellow jersey with a powerful win in the individual time trial -- finishing more than 2 minutes ahead of second place finisher Stephen Roche.

As the race approached the Alps, Hinault had the overall race lead, but his teammate Greg LeMond was just two and a half minutes behind in 2nd place. Another La Vie Claire teammate, Canada's Steve Bauer, was in 4th overall, a little more than three minutes behind.

Stage 11 was the first day with serious Alpine climbs. Early in the stage, Hinault went after the Columbian rider, Luis Herrera, who was after the King of the Mountains prize. While Herrera took most of the climbers' points and the stage victory, Hinault put time into all his general classification rivals. LeMond, who couldn't really chase his team leader, eventually finished the stage in a respectable 5th place, but now was about 4 minutes behind Hinault overall. The next day in the Alps didn't change the overall standings much.

The individual time trial of Stage 13 had Hinault showing his first signs of weakness. Perhaps due to his efforts in the Alps, he didn't win the stage, though he did still add to his time advantage over 2nd place LeMond, who by this time trailed the leader by more than 5 minutes. LeMond had suffered a mechanical problem during the stage, just as he had during the prologue time trial, probably earning himself some kind of record for the worst luck, mechanically, of any TdF time trialist.

Stage 14 was a major turning point in the race. With a single 1st Category climb on the road to St. Etienne, Luis Herrera once again took off early to pick up KOM points, but this time it was LeMond who gave chase. Hinault hung back in the peloton to keep an eye on 3rd place GC rider, Stephen Roche. Herrera went on to win another stage, with LeMond just 47 seconds behind. What nobody expected was the massive pileup in Hinault's group, about 2 minutes later, as they approached the finish line. Hinault went down hard, breaking his nose, and eventually crossing the line with his face covered in blood. The images of the man riding while he could barely see through the blood solidified his reputation as one of the toughest men in the sport.

Because the crash happened inside the final kilometer, Hinault was granted the same finishing time as the rest of the riders in the group he was with, but his overall lead had fallen back to about 3 and a half minutes over LeMond. The next couple of stages saw little change in the overall standings, but Hinault was having trouble breathing through his freshly broken nose. He was also continuing to show signs of fatigue.

With his eyes still blackened from his
broken nose, Hinault struggled up
the mountains in Stage 17.

Stage 17 to Luz Ardiden in the Pyrenees was a brutal day of 209 km and 3 major climbs: the Col d'Aspin, the Col du Tourmalet, and Luz Ardiden. Those second two are classified as hors category climbs. As LeMond, who seemed to be strengthening as the Tour went on, powered up the Tourmalet with Stephen Roche and Pedro Delgado, Hinault fell back and back. On the final climb to Luz Ardiden, Delgado took off, and LeMond went on the chase with Roche.

It was at this point that things got pretty controversial. LeMond had gained enough time on the road to become the new race leader. On the lower slopes of Luz Ardiden, a La Vie Claire team car pulled up next to LeMond with the team's assistant director, who was on the radio with director Paul Koechli. The exchange between LeMond and the assistant director got tense, with LeMond visibly agitated. The exact substance of what was said gets disputed depending on who tells the story, but what seems to be generally accepted is that LeMond was told to wait for Hinault who was only about 40 seconds back. In reality, he was several minutes behind. LeMond waited and waited as groups of riders passed him, and there was still no Hinault.

Assistant Director Maurice Le Guilloux tells LeMond so slow down to wait for Hinault. LeMond wants to race on and presses him for more information about how far back Hinault is. He is told 40 seconds. In fact, it was several minutes.

So Pedro Delgado won the stage, probably completely unaware of the chaos going on behind him. After waiting minutes for Hinault, LeMond still finished the stage more than a minute ahead of his team leader. They were still 1st and 2nd overall, but the time difference between them was now just 2 minutes and 25 seconds.

After the stage, with the realization that he'd been lied to and denied the chance to win the stage, and very likely the whole race, LeMond was shaken and angry. Hinault then made a famous promise that because LeMond had basically sacrificed himself so that Hinault could win his 5th Tour de France, Hinault would help LeMond in '86 to win his first.

Over the next stages, LeMond took small increments of time out of Hinault's lead, eventually narrowing the gap to 1min 42sec when the race ended in Paris. In addition, LeMond had won the time trial in Stage 21, which was his first TdF stage win. Stephen Roche finished 3rd overall, 4 and a half minutes back. Sean Kelly got the green jersey and 4th place overall.

People sometimes debate what might have happened had LeMond been told the truth that day on Luz Ardiden, or if he'd been given permission to fly. It's also worth asking how things might have been different had LeMond stayed with the Renault team, given that Fignon was out of the picture that year. In any case, I for one think LeMond would certainly have won his first Tour a year earlier than it actually happened.

Hinault won his 5th Tour that year, matching the records of Jacques Anquetil and Eddy Merckx and cementing his name among the greats of the sport. His win also set up a dramatic "sibling rivalry" that would test many loyalties in the following year. And by the way, no Frenchman has won the Tour de France since.

And to think, it all happened 30 years ago.

The first time I saw the name Bernard Hinault in print, it accompanied a photo of a compact Napoleon-like man in a Mondrian-print jersey throwing a punch at some striking workers, his face in a fierce grimace, throwing his whole body into the blow.

My teenaged self thought, "Who the hell IS this guy? What a badass!"

The famous photo was from the 1984 Paris-Nice, where Hinault was leading a breakaway of about 20 riders when they were stopped by a crowd of striking shipyard workers. Hinault barely managed to skid to a stop before leaping from his bike and plowing into the workers with his fist. Whatever his politics might have been, nobody was going to deny Hinault a chance to win a bicycle race.

Incidentally, Sean Kelly, who was also part of that breakaway, eventually won that race, with Hinault having to settle for 3rd. Nevertheless, if people remember anything about the 1984 Paris-Nice, it is the man throwing the punch, not who won. Sometimes it isn't about who wins or loses.

Hinault wanted to win like nobody else. Losing wasn't in his DNA. He was fierce and unrelenting, and he deserved his nickname, "the Badger."

Bernard Hinault was one of the greats who practically defined a generation of bicycle racers, like Coppi, Anquetil, or Merckx. Right on the heels of the "Merckx Era" came the "Hinault Era." Though his dominance wasn't quite as complete as that of Merckx, it's still a good comparison. Many people consider Hinault the best complete bicycle racer of all time - after Eddy Merckx.

Hinault began his professional cycling career in 1974, but really burst into the public consciousness at the '77 Dauphiné Libéré where he beat a number of favorites, including that year's Tour de France winner, Bernard Thevenet. What often gets remembered about that race was the sight of Hinault, in the leader's yellow jersey, attacking on a mountain descent when he overshot a curve and went off the road, disappearing from sight going down a perilously steep drop. Death would not have been improbable. Next thing, there was Hinault, scrambling back up to the road with the help of a team mechanic - then getting back on a new bike, and continuing on for the win.

He was instantly a legend.

You can see video footage of that crash posted on YouTube:

The following year, 1978, he rode his first Grand Tour, the Vuelta a España, which he won. Also that year, wearing the colors of the French National Champion, he entered and won his first Tour de France. It was at that TdF that Hinault firmly established himself, at the young age of 23, as the leader of the peloton. That year, there was a riders' strike during the Tour to protest conditions and demands on the riders -- particularly the practice of having two stages in a single day. Some people have described the rider protest initially as being somewhat tepid and haphazard, until the young Hinault stepped forward, and with absolute confidence, strode with his bicycle to the starting line and struck a pose of power and defiance while the rest of the peloton fell into place behind him.

Comparisons to Napoleon were not uncommon.

Hinault went on to win the Tour again in 1979. In 1980, he won the first of his three Giro d'Italia victories. His goal that year was to achieve cycling's "Triple Crown" - the Giro, the Tour, and the World Championship in the same season. He was leading the Tour that year but had to abandon with a knee injury. He did come back to win the 1980 World Championship. Though he several times got two out of three, the Triple Crown was one thing he never did achieve.

He won the Tour two more times, in 1981 and '82 bringing his total at that point to 4 wins. He won the Giro in '82 and his second Vuelta in '83. Hinault missed the 1983 TdF, again because of knee problems. In 1984, with his new La Vie Claire team, he finished second in the Tour de France, more than 10 minutes behind his former Renault teammate Laurent Fignon. In 1985, he won his third Giro d'Italia.

At the 1985 Tour de France, which I covered in some detail in my previous post, Hinault was caught up in a terrible crash in the final kilometer of Stage 14, breaking his nose. He eventually crossed the finish line under his own power with his face completely obscured by the blood. It was an incredibly dramatic moment, and the footage of it is still shown routinely in those "looking back" segments about the Tour de France on television.

Though he probably couldn't have done it without the sacrifice of his teammate Greg LeMond, Hinault did go on to win his 5th Tour de France that year, matching the record of Anquetil and Merckx.

1986 will be remembered as a year of loyalty put to the ultimate test. After LeMond's sacrifice in 1985 that helped Hinault to win the Tour, Hinault promised to repay the debt by helping LeMond to win the following year. At the '86 Tour, it appeared to some as though Hinault had forgotten about the promise as he repeatedly went on the attack, always keeping the pressure on LeMond. That battle was the subject of the book Slaying the Badger by Richard Moore, which was turned into a film for ESPN by director John Dower.

The film version of Slaying the Badger, particularly, seems to take the position that Hinault had betrayed LeMond, and interviews with LeMond would indicate that he for one still sees it that way. Hinault for his part insists that he was riding hard to weaken the rest of the competition and had no intention of denying LeMond the victory. Whichever side one takes, the fact is that the battle between them made the 1986 Tour one of the most memorable of all time. Here was something I had said in an older post about the film:

"While I get the impression from the film that I was probably supposed to see Hinault as some kind of villain in this story, personally I have a hard time with that. Hinault was a fierce competitor. On one hand, it's clear that he couldn't have won the '85 Tour without LeMond's sacrifice. Hinault suffered through the latter half of that Tour and it was probably easy at the time for him to make the promise that he would repay LeMond. But the next year, he's feeling good, he sees the opportunity to be the only man to win 6 Tours, and he starts to question the logic of helping someone else to win. Racing for someone else just wasn't in his DNA. Like Abt says, "he couldn't help himself." But also, even as difficult as it was for LeMond to win, with challenges coming from not only the whole peloton but his own team, many people (particularly in Europe) called his '86 victory a "gift" from Hinault. What would they have said if Hinault actually appeared to be helping him? I understand LeMond's sense of betrayal, but in the end, it seems to me that it elevated his victory. If there was any doubt (there was not any for me) that LeMond truly deserved to win the '86 Tour, this film should set things straight."

Hinault finished the '86 Tour in 2nd place, and it should be pointed out that he never finished a Tour below that position. Later that season, Hinault won the Coors Classic in Colorado and retired at the end of the season, still at the top of the sport.

After retiring from professional racing, Hinault went back to his native Brittany to spend time farming. He also works for Amaury Sport Organisation, or ASO, the group that organizes the Tour de France, as well as a number of other racing events. In this capacity, he can often be seen on the winners podium giving out the awards. And in some cases, he still gets to display that same fierce pugnacity he displayed in his racing career. When overenthusiastic or unruly fans look for their 15 seconds of fame by climbing onto the winners podium, Hinault is quick to dispatch them unceremoniously.

Hinault's record, with over 250 professional wins, is an amazing one -- and in numerous aspects is second only to Eddy Merckx. It would be unlikely in the current era to see anyone surpass either Hinault or Merckx given that few riders today even attempt to be as competitive in such a wide range of races and disciplines. Only a handful of racers have won all three Grand Tours, and Hinault is the only person to win them all at least twice. In addition to his Grand Tour victories (10 in all) he had wins in almost all the Spring Classics, including Paris-Roubaix which he despised and once referred to as "a race for d*%#heads." The only Classics he never won were the Tour of Flanders and Milan-San Remo. He was also World Champion, and a 5-time winner of the Grand Prix des Nations.

Then and now, Hinault stands out as one of the all-time greatest.

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Badger. Badass. Bernard Hinault