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More Vintage Advertisement Fun

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Paging through another old bicycle magazine, this one from 1980, I found these two ads:

There's something kind of freaky about this one -- I suppose the multiple exposure effect is intended to make it look like the girl is in motion, but I find it slightly disconcerting. Remember when short jogging shorts with tall striped socks were the fashion? Even for guys? If so, then you might be a Retrogrouch, too. Panasonic Bicycles were made by Matsushita/National Mfg. in Japan -- which also made some bikes for Schwinn. Bridgestone was another of those Schwinn contract builders. Notice the so-called "safety" brake extension levers that were all the rage at the time -- the ones that actually reduced safety.
Again with the little short shorts. When I was in high school I had a crush on a girl who looked like the one in this ad. Now it just makes me feel old. In the 1970s, Fuji was one of the first bikes imported to the U.S. that started to change people's attitudes about Japanese bikes. By the time this ad ran, Japanese bikes and components pretty much dominated the market.
Oh well -- just a short post today. Still waiting for Spring to arrive.

Bring Back the XO-1?

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I recently heard from a reader asking if there are any builders out there who make (or would make) a bike based on the sought-after Bridgestone XO-1. The question got me thinking.

The Bridgestone XO-1 was the creation of Grant Petersen, the founder of Rivendell Bicycles, and was a bike that defied categorization in its brief time. It was a bike with road geometry, but equipped with 26-in. (559 mm) wheels, making it capable of going easily from pavement to trail -- like a hybrid of sorts, even though that particular label was avoided. Perhaps because people didn't know how to pigeon-hole it, it was only made for two years -- 1992-1993. I wrote a retrospective of the bike last year.

Since the discontinuation of the model and the pull-out of Bridgestone from the American market, the XO-1 has attained something like a cult status.

So back to the question. Does anyone make a bike based on the XO-1? Or would they? Maybe I should ask, should they?

The most obvious answer to the first part is Rivendell, whose Atlantis model is somewhat similar in its intent to the XO-1. Frame sizes from 47 through 56 cm are designed around 26-in/559 mm wheels. Larger frames are designed for 700c/622 mm, with room for large volume tires. Equip an Atlantis with mustache bars and get a bike that is a spiritual descendant of the cult classic. The fact that the Atlantis (as well as some other Rivendell models) approaches wheel size as a function of frame size actually represents an improvement in my mind over the XO-1. The original was only available in frame sizes up to 59 cm. At that size and beyond, the proportion of the frame with the wheels starts getting awkward and the frame starts to lose triangulation. I've written articles about how wheel size should ideally be a function of frame size and proper fit, rather than a "fashion" or marketing decision.

As to the second part, there's no doubt that any custom frame builder today could build a modern version of the XO-1. The question is would they? Giving the question more consideration, I figure some builders might be willing -- but I have a feeling that many builders today might look at the bike as something they can improve upon, not copy. They might perhaps look at the intended "mission" of the bike to be built, and go after their own idea of how to get there. And chances are, many would recommend 650b wheels.

Here's something to consider. The XO-1 was designed around 26-in/559 mm wheels to make it rough-stuff capable, and in 1992, that's what was available to fit the bill. Since that time, several things have happened: One, 650b/584 mm rims and tires (virtually obsolete 20 years ago) have seen a resurgence, and there are many excellent choices now for tire widths and tread types. Two, more choices in large volume tires in a variety of tread patterns (including gravel tires and MTB knobbies) have become available for 622 mm rims (700c/29er). Given the range of choices, would it still make sense to build a modern XO-1 around 26-in. wheels? For smaller frames, yes, but I have a feeling that if 650b wheels and tires had been as available in 1992 as they are today, the XO-1 would have used them. (Remember that Grant Petersen himself was one of those who helped renew interest in that wheel size back around 2005, offering a 650b Rivendell model called the Saluki.)

Another thing that has happened since the early 90s is the rediscovery of French-inspired randonneur-style bikes -- many of which are built around those 650b wheels. In many ways, these bikes can fulfill a similar mission to the XO-1 -- perhaps even better. I put the question to framebuilding master Peter Weigle, and here is what he said. "A good rando-style bike built today will do everything the legendary XO-1 would do, and it would be comfortable while doing it, as well as being more versatile -- being able to carry some gear, and have fenders to fend off the rain." I think he's right about that. Jan Heine has an article in the Spring 2014 issue of Bicycle Quarterly about touring "secret passes" with a 650b MAP S&P rando bike (a collaboration between Brent Steelman and Mitch Pryor), and he found that the bike was able to handle washed-out roads and some incredibly rough trails without trouble.

There are a couple of budget-conscious production bikes available today that I think would capture the "go anywhere, do anything" spirit of the XO-1 without exactly being copies or re-makes of the original. One of those would be the Polyvalent from Velo-Orange. It's a low-trail geometry, French-inspired bike that uses 650b wheels. Depending on how one equipped the frame (mustache bars, anyone?) it could easily be considered a modern take on the old Bridgestone classic. Frames sell for $550. Another possibility might be the Soma Grand Randonneur -- co-designed with Michael Kone of Rene Herse/Boulder Bicycles. Frames are about $490. Either of these, with 650b wheels and their low-trail geometry should handle nimbly, and go from road to trail with ease. Isn't that what the XO-1 was all about?

As for the last part of my earlier question -- should the XO-1 be re-made? I really like the original -- it was built well with a sensible, versatile design. It was a great bike for its time -- but it seems to me that it also reflects some of the limitations of its time. I may be a Retrogrouch (proudly) but I it's hard for me to see the resurgence of classic tire choices (like 650b) and randonneur bikes as anything but positive developments. In a way, they're even more "retro" than the XO-1, so it's not even inconsistent, in fact. In my exchange with Peter Weigle, he said, "It's hard to overcome the nostalgic, legendary notions of the past." I agree. Perhaps if someone is really intent on an XO-1, and vintage examples are still available, there's no need to copy it. But if we're building a new bike, and we can do it better while staying true to the spirit of the original, then we might be well to be open to the possibilities.

Caution: This Bike May Self Destruct

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The following article originally appeared in Bicycle Forum magazine, attributed to Dan Burden for the Bicycle Federation. It was republished in a condensed form in the 1985 Magazine for the Coors International Bicycle Classic. 

Spontaneous Combustion

Two years ago, a Florida bureaucrat wouldn't let another civil servant park his bicycle in the State Environmental Protection agency office building. He reportedly feared that the bicycle might "spontaneously combust." Upon hearing the news, our local bicycle club had a hearty laugh. All the laughter has ceased.

In late December, club member Arnie Olson narrowly escaped a hellish fate. His bike burst into flames two miles north of Craighead Swamp while he was descending the 3% grade off the crossing of the Appalachacola River. Arnie's brakes quickly melted down, making it impossible to slow or stop the bike.

The flames spread fast. Quick-witted Arnie climbed onto the bike's top tube. On and on he sped . . . twenty . . . thirty . . . forty miles per hour. Arnie was saved when brothers Dave and Don Willow came along side and lifted him free. The bicycle tumbled harmlessly to the pavement.

When they got back to the bike, they found the magnesium alloy frame engulfed in brilliant multicolored flames. So hot was the fire that it continued to burn even after the bike was thrown into the river. An inspection of the remains showed that rapid combustion began near -- but not at -- the front brake mount.

"The movement of the bike through oxygen-rich swamp air, especially at the higher speed of the descent, may have 'torched' the normally stable alloys," suggested State Fire Marshal Clee Anderson. "And this is not the first such case I have dealt with this month," he muttered.

I used my prodigious photoshop skills to make this
dramatic re-creation of a spontaneous combustion event.
Before becoming Florida's State Bicycle Coordinator in 1980, I would have scoffed at reports of such a phenomenon. But my research has disclosed 17 more confirmed cases of spontaneous combustion in five southern states. As many as eight other events could be related to the rapid and unexpected combustion of light alloy bicycle parts.

Recently, two Georgia officials, Louisiana's celebrated Fire Marshall, Ollie Bourgeine, and an Atlanta-based consulting team joined the search for a cause. Their interest was sparked when a Georgia State coed, Margaret Saunders, suffered first, second and third degree burns in the latest spontaneous combustion event in the Land O' Cotton. According to a friend who asked to remain anonymous, "Margaret was a careful rider who kept her bike immaculate, never allowing the first bit of grease or dirt accumulate."

Although no witnesses actually saw the fire start, a 7-11 store manager heard Margaret's desperate screams. He ran to the store room, grabbed an extinguisher and made it to curbside within two minutes. Margaret had already collapsed. In falling, she suffered hip, shoulder and head abrasions and a concussion from which she has yet to recover. All that remained of the bike was a grotesque outline burned into the asphalt, a bit of white ash, a few steel bearings and other steel parts that failed to melt in the inferno that consumed Margaret's chrome-moly Bianchi.

Not a single case of spontaneous combustion had been recorded before 1978. Two events in '78 are now confirmed, one in '79, then five in '80, five more in '81, eight in '82 and twelve in '83. Already, several Southern communities have enacted ordinances banning bikes within 200 feet from any wood frame building. Here's what we know about the new cycling menace: Most incidents have involved chrome-moly bikes, although at least two titanium frames and one graphite bike have fallen victim to the dreaded SCS (Spontaneous Combustion Syndrome). Further, a steady stream of water from well-directed waterbottles won't save the day once flames are present. Bourgeine reports that the fire reaches temperatures of 3800-4400 degrees Fahrenheit. "Only the total removal of an oxygen atmosphere can slow the consumption of the metals," he adds. The Consumer Product Safety Commission, quick to recognize a new hazard when the see one, has already stepped in. "We're too late for the 1985 model bikes," reports a senior official, "but you can be certain all 1986 bikes will be required to carry a fire extinguisher and riders will be required to wear flame-retardant underwear. Quite simply, we're not taking any chances of having this turn into a major disaster."

Bicyclists in North and Central Florida have taken advantage of the situation by wearing specially made jerseys and shirts that carry the message "Pass with care/this vehicle may spontaneously combust." Motorists have already gotten the message and have been observed to move to the left a full lane when passing cyclists. Others have been seen to detour two to three blocks from popular bike routes. America's bicyclists are cautioned to not let this thing get blown out of proportion. While the media is quick to dramatize any unexplained phenomenon or new type of disaster, so far there have only been twenty-seven confirmed cases. All of these have involved rapidly moving bikes, so storing your bike in the garage or basement seems quite safe.

A Conversation with Curtis Odom: Inspired by Classic Hubs

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If you visit the website of Curtis Odom's Vintage-Styled Bicycle Parts (www.curtisodom.com), one of the first things you'll see is Curtis's mission statement: "To create the most beautiful bicycle hubs ever made." That is a pretty lofty mission, but some would argue he's well on his way, if not already there. Curtis Odom's hubs and other bicycle components take their cues from great designs of the past, but update them with modern technology and materials. Did I mention that they are absolutely exquisite?

An assortment of Curtis Odom's hubs, as well as other components
displayed on a "bed" of tools. (Photo by Michael Graves)
According to his website, Curtis has been "bicycle racing, collecting, restoring, building, repairing, and eventually manufacturing" bicycles. I was curious about his actual career path and/or training.

"My career path started when I was in middle school," said Curtis. "I was always a natural 'Gear Head' mechanical kind of guy. Shop teachers would cut me from the herd and teach me more advanced skills. By the time I graduated from high school I was already adept at wood working, metal work, graphics, etc."

After high school, Curtis got his introduction to the bicycle industry at his local bike shop. "From there I did twenty years in the bicycle industry, working my way up from mechanic/sales/management and ending as the designer and production manager for a triathlon bicycle company," he said. "After enough time in the biz I decided to go to improve my skill sets so I went back to school. A few real corporate jobs later and I ended up at Black & Decker where I topped out as an Engineering Manager. My years at B&D polished all the tools I needed to make a go on my own."

Curtis explained to me how he got started making hubs. "I made my first two pairs of hubs around 1995. These were for a custom cruiser project that was shown at Interbike. From bending, swaging, and ovalizing tubes for the frame, to designing and manufacturing components, were all done from scratch. This was a joint project with the Topline Bicycle Products Company and the Auto-Tec machine shop. I still use one of those pairs of hubs on my delivery bike."

A "Clubman" hub, with one of Odom's track cogs mounted.
Regarding inspiration, Curtis's website mentions the following anecdote: "There is a story of when I was a little surfer grom wandering the alleys of my home town of Pacific Beach, California. I was twelve or thirteen years old and I knew nothing of bicycles beyond your common Schwinn Stingray or Typhoon paper delivery bikes. As I walked these alleys I spotted a rusty and bent wheel sitting on top of a trash can. I picked this wrecked wheel up and noticed that the hub was different from others that I was used to. The hub was made from aluminum; the lack of rust intrigued me. Then I noticed that the center of the hub had writing on it. I rubbed the grime off to see the name Campagnolo. Some instinct told me that this was different; this was special. I keep this hub. Today it sits in front of me on my desk, full of inspiration." I asked Curtis what else inspires him.

Some "design DNA"
"A lot!" he replied. "I am a real believer in design DNA. My range of design DNA is quite large: architecture, industrial design, furniture, tooling, automobiles, planes, trains, and obviously bicycles."

Curtis also puts an emphasis on people as inspirations. He said, "Often it is as much about 'who' inspires me. I have been lucky to have had many great mentors over the years. Without them I never would have learned how to express my creativity. A short list would be these: my grandfather who crushed my feelings when at five years old I gave him a present I made for him, he told me it was a piece of junk but he also taught me to have design intent before starting every project; my high school shop teachers; my first bicycle shop boss Reed Pike who taught me wheel building and mechanics; my automotive mentor, hot rod builder Jon Guilmet who taught me to have the “Eye” to know when a shape is perfect; Photographer Michael Graves who has pushed me for decades to be a better artist; Dan Empfield who first cut me loose to do my own design work on his Quintana Roo products; Steve Hed who taught me so much about aerodynamics; Ricardo Cruz Sr. and Jr. who taught me machining and still manufacture my products. Ricardo Cruz Sr. once said before he passed away “I want you and Ricky to make bicycle parts together.” Ricky is the reason this all started. There are many more, including my beloved wife of twenty five years Heather Odom."

Curtis's "Holey" hubs. Some will recognize the BH Airlite
influence.  (photo by Michael Graves)
When it comes to the hubs that Curtis Odom makes today, one can see echoes of the past. The original Odom hubs, the "Holey" hubs, are a favorite and were inspired by the BH Airlites. Other classic looks include the "Bacon Slicer" hubs, inspired by the vintage Harden hubs from the U.K., or the "Pepper Pots" which may remind some of the old French-made Prior hubs.

Curtis says,"Airlite hubs were the first to make an impression on me when I was a teenager. I first saw them and the Schwinn Paramount 'Phone Dial' hubs on WWII vet old time racer Robert Bergen’s track bikes at the San Diego Velodrome. I always wanted some and never came across any for sale so I made my own. Now we have restored one of Bergen’s track bikes and it rides on Curtis Odom hubs."
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Looking closely at Curtis's hubs, it is pretty clear that they are built on a three-piece shell -- similar to some of the vintage hubs such as the Airlites, or early Campagnolo Gran Sports -- as opposed to being machined in one piece like a lot of current production hubs. In fact, when ordering hubs, one has a choice of aluminum or stainless steel for the hub center. But even though they look like the vintage hubs with their pressed-on flanges, according to Curtis, there is a bit more to it than that.

The "Pepper Pot" track hub.
"Unlike the earlier hubs mine are much more complicated to build," said Curtis. "The flanges are threaded, epoxied, and torqued to the center bodies. All spokes holes and designs are milled or drilled after the bodies are assembled. There are two reasons I build them this way, one is the four inch diameter flange with thin center sections are almost impossible to machine without issues caused by such a deep cut and flex, the other is that I really wanted to replicate the chrome center look by using a stainless steel center."

In addition to the use of updated technology in the manufacturing, CO hubs are made with modern sealed cartridge bearings (or magneto bearings for an upgrade), and in cassette hub versions for either Shimano or Campagnolo-compatible cassettes.

If one checks out Curtis's Flickr site, they can see some of the other projects that he has in the works. These include disc brake and even coaster brake hubs, riveted flange hubs, a "retro-direct" hub kit (which gives a different gear ratio while pedaling backwards!), chainrings, chain guards, spoke wrenches and a stopwatch holder. There are even some non-bicycle-related items such as coffee pour-over stands, mugs, furniture designs, and more. "Would you believe I am most excited about a tool roll I am working on?" he added.

An Ascari Bullitt track bike with Curtis's "Sweetheart" hubs
on display at Ralph Lauren's RRL store in NYC.
(photo from Ascari Bicycles)
Of course, the hubs and other components are extraordinarily beautiful -- and one would fully expect to see them at a show like the North American Handmade Bicycle Show (NAHBS -- where Curtis has, indeed, displayed his wares) or at some other bicycle industry trade show. But who would expect to see them on the pages of a fashion magazine, or in a shop display surrounded by high-fashion clothing? As it turns out, Ralph Lauren's RRL store on Bleeker St. in NYC has recently put bicycles on display made by Ascari Bicycles, some of which are equipped with Curtis Odom's hubs. Ascari Bicycles are very much vintage-inspired designs, incorporating warm, natural elements such as wood and leather, which complement the vintage theme of RL's clothing line. And of course, the high-flange CO "Sweetheart" hubs are the perfect choice.

On the CO website, Curtis says, "Modern bicycles in many ways get better with every generation. This does not mean that they get better looking. Fact is, they have not." That got me wondering if Curtis sees himself as a retrogrouch. He replied, "I never do consider myself a retrogrouch but sometimes I come close. I have a real love for many types of bicycles including modern race bikes -- well, at least for the way they ride and not so much for how they look. Sure, people call me that but it makes sense based on my own work. But my work only shows one area of my passion."

I'd like to thank Curtis Odom for his time to answer my questions. Thank you for contributing to the Retrogrouch Blog!

Stupid is Still Stupid, Even When it's Old.

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The Dpardo "Sickle" cranks -- a dumb idea rises again like
the killer in a bad slasher film.
Some bad ideas just keep coming back. I recently saw these "sickle power curved" cranks from Taiwan, although I understand they've actually been out for at least a year or so (where have I been?). The big claim is that they are supposed to eliminate the "dead spot" at the top (and bottom) of the crank rotation, and make it possible to turn a 58-tooth chainring with the same effort as a 50t ring. Yes, they come with a 58-tooth "monster" ring. According to the company's website, they sell for about $795.

Here is a claim from the website: "It is estimated that 25%-30% pedaling force will be saved, at the same time the saving power can put into the pedaling force. It can make the torque output increase immediately in opposition. So it can be thought and implement on logic." Okay -- that doesn't actually make sense, but it could just be a bad translation. The actual physics, however, are not subject to translation. They don't -- and can't -- actually work. The claims behind the design have been pretty well exploded time and time again, but every so often, someone digs it back up as though nobody's ever seen it before. The problem is, we have seen it before.

From the Z-torque Kickstarter campaign.
Spoiler alert: it failed.
A similar idea was put forth on Kickstarter recently, called the "Z-Torque" crank. It failed to meet its fundraising goal. Here are some claims from the Kickstarter campaign: The Z-Torque crank is "a patented design giving you the ability to generate more power over standard crank designs. This is achieved with the angled crank arm design which works on the simple principles of leverage and inertia." The creator goes on to say, "By repositioning the pedal in the manor (sic) in which we have, you now have a greater portion of the pedal rotation to generate power earlier and later than with a standard straight crank arm." I'm curious how they got a patent on something that's so clearly been done before.

The "evidence" presented in the Z-Torque fundraising campaign is obviously flawed. Note the side-by-side comparisons. The hand pushing straight downward on the vertical wrench vs. the angled wrench is supposed to correlate to the foot pushing downward on the top-dead-center position with the straight crank on the left vs. the "angled" Z-Torque crank on the right. It sounds good, except that the foot on the Z-Torque crank is still pushing straight down from the TDC position in relation to the spindle. The visual "angle" of the crank is not much more than an illusion.

From a PMP crank ad from the 1980s
Even the Z-Torque crank is just a re-hash of an earlier idea -- the PMP crank from the 1980s. The claims then were pretty much the same as the claims today. Here's an excerpt from the old PMP ads: "The unique form of the PMP pedal crank means improved distribution of the energy required in pedaling and a perfectly round stroke; the result: increased equilibrium." Funny thing about the PMP crank, though, is that the crank length was still measured as a straight line from the center of the spindle hole to the center of the pedal hole (the crank shown was very likely stamped 175 mm). If anyone sensed any more "power" using the PMP crank, it was probably due to the slightly increased leverage from a slightly longer crank than what they were used to -- 175 vs. 170 mm for example. Anything more than that was likely the power of suggestion (which is really powerful, come to think of it).

Funny thing about the PMP crank, though, is that it was hardly the first of its type, either. I was certain I'd seen older variations on the crooked crank idea, and it didn't take more than a few minutes of searching to find them. Lots of them, in fact. Here are a couple:

Here's one from 1931(from oldbike.eu)
A 1931 article about a crank that looks like it might be the same one shown above. Only the chainrings are different. (from oldbike.eu) The article states that the claims are based on a fallacy. "Another attempt to overcome the dead center bogy, and again not a new one, reaches us in the form of a pair of curved cranks of French origin and marketed in this country by Max Steiner."

As the article above stated, even the 1931 version was nothing new. This photo shows a crooked crank from 1897! (from retrobike.uk) The particular bend angle on this early version bears a strong resemblance to the one used recently on the Z-Torque.
The current Dpardo "sickle" crank probably won't be the last we see of this bad idea, but it's a sure bet that whoever markets the next one will proclaim it as a new "breakthrough." It won't be anything new. As is pretty clear, the idea is almost as old as the safety bicycle itself.

"Happy Butts" Saddle

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The latest "breakthrough" that is supposed to make non-cyclists get over the pain inflicted by bicycle saddles comes in the form of the "Happy Butts Pain Free Saddle" from Taiwan. It turns out to be from the same company that makes the "Sickle" crank that I looked into in my previous post. The "Happy Butts" saddle basically consists of a padded horizontal bar, and not much else. The part that looks almost like a "nose" is not actually meant to support any part of the rider's anatomy, but is rather  (I believe) just a cover for the seat post clamp.

Say goodbye to saddle discomfort, hello "happy butt."
Here is some of the ad copy from the Dpardo website: "God design human butts to sit horizontally and we design the horizontal saddle to fit human natural butts shape. Let cyclist have a comfort cycling. Pain free saddle." Okay, the translation is terrible, but still -- whose backside is actually "horizontal"? Should we trade in our saddles for bleacher seats?

More claims: "Protect men and woman important part! Unparalleled comfort: keeps you feeling fresh mile after mile. Let your private parts ride happily. Streamline shape with furtureness. Crash fat and Butt lift." I don't actually know what that means. Blame it on the translation, I guess.

Like lots of other saddles that are supposed to eliminate discomfort "mile after mile," my guess is that the "Happy Butts" saddle feels fine rolling along for a mile or two -- about as far as the average non-cyclist is willing to ride.

Add this one to the recent "Infinity Seat," and the old "Easy Seat" that's been around since the early 80s -- both of which make the claim to eliminate saddle discomfort for the casual rider.

So, what actually causes saddle discomfort? Not riding a bicycle -- that's what causes discomfort. Or rather, riding one so infrequently that the body never gets used to it. Let's say that someone rarely exercises, and then they decide suddenly to go out for a run. Even if that first run is only a mile or two, they're going to be sore as hell the next morning. Their thighs will feel like they were run over by a car. And if that same person waits months before attempting another run, they will experience that same exact pain all over again because they never gave their muscles a chance to acclimate to the increased activity. It only makes sense, and I believe most people would recognize the reason for their soreness. But for some reason, people who ride a bike maybe a couple times per year expect that the experience should be totally different. Why? Is it because they remember riding bikes as kids, and never feeling sore from the experience? Maybe. But then, they were probably a lot more active when they were kids. When was the last time anyone heard a kid complain of sore muscles because they over-did it on the exercise?

The problem with designing saddles for infrequent riders is that those riders tend to be terrible judges of what is or isn't a comfortable saddle, or good vs. bad saddle design. Infrequent riders want to compare bicycle saddles to their furniture at home -- as if a bicycle should have a miniature version of their sofa mounted on a seatpost. They want it wide, fat, and thickly padded. They toodle along at a less-than-casual pace, for maybe a couple of miles, resting almost their entire weight on the saddle. They tire out quickly, and feel sore afterwards. Some will be convinced that some new "radical" design will hold the answer.

The thing is, the traditional saddle shape that we are all pretty familiar with did not just happen by accident. Like many elements of bicycle design, it is a shape that has been well tested and proven over more than 100 years. Some of what makes for a good saddle is counterintuitive. Regular riders realize that a saddle that is too wide can restrict movement and circulation; and a saddle that is overly padded can actually cause more discomfort on a longer ride than one with no padding at all. And because we control a bike almost as much with our hips as with our upper body, a saddle without a nose can reduce the bike's handling. A saddle without a nose may also allow a person to pitch forward more, shifting more weight onto the hands, arms, and shoulders.

Sure, there are bad saddles -- and bad saddles can be a real pain in the ass. Just as bad, though, is a saddle that is set up wrong. Too high or low, too far forward or back, or angled too much one way or another (and it doesn't take much), can make even the best saddle seem painful. And again, infrequent and inexperienced riders are a lot more likely to ride bikes that are set up poorly.

I suppose people who rarely ride, and think they might ride more often if only they could find a "better" saddle will continue to be drawn to products like the "Easy Seat" and the "Happy Butts" saddles. But more likely than not, the bikes with these goofy things will spend the same amount of time parked in their garages and basements collecting dust.

Classic Film: Breaking Away

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Thirty Five years ago this summer, the movie Breaking Away was released, giving many Americans their first glimpse of bicycle culture. I was in junior high at the time, just discovering bicycles, and that film was formative for me. Seriously. I wanted to BE that kid in the movie, Dave Stohler.

One of the old movie posters hangs
in my classroom at school.
Unlike many (most?) other bicycling-themed movies, you didn't need to be a bike geek to be enamored with Breaking Away -- a bicycling movie that isn't really about bicycles. It's a film about growing up, and making that transition from teenager to adult -- "breaking away" from family and the past and the things that tie us down to our childhood. Most people reading The Retrogrouch Blog are probably pretty familiar with the film, so I hope they will forgive me for delving into the synopsis and review.

The film depicts a group of friends living in Bloomington, Indiana -- the home of Indiana University, where the local boys are known as "cutters" by the rich college kids. The term is derived from the fact that the main livelihood of many of the locals was cutting limestone in the quarries just outside of town. That the name is used dismissively as a slur by the college kids emphasizes their limited knowledge or understanding of the "townies" they seem to despise. The don't know the history of the town, or the troubles faced by the locals whose economic futures were thrown into doubt with the closing of most of the quarries. The college kids are only there for four years of college and then they'll move on -- almost certainly to lucrative careers, fancy homes, and expensive cars.

Dennis Christopher plays Dave, the kid who dreams of racing against the Italians -- "Like the nightingales they sing," he proclaims,  "Like the eagles they fly" -- to the point that he imagines himself to actually be Italian, much to the dismay of his father, played as a lovable but grouchy curmudgeon by Paul Dooley. Dave and his childhood friends strive to make a place for themselves outside their teenaged past. Mike (Dennis Quaid) struggles to find a new role for himself now that he is no longer the quarterback of the high school football team. Moocher (Jackie Earle Haley) wants to settle down and get married to the cashier at the A&P. And Cyril (Daniel Stern) . . . well, nobody can quite figure out Cyril. But they soon find themselves at odds with the college kids, against whom they constantly feel they must "prove" themselves.

Breaking Away is a really well-written film that is both funny and moving. One very poignant scene shows Mike and the other boys watching the IU football team practicing. As Mike reveals his regrets about not getting a football scholarship, he lays out his deepest fears about growing old without having any significant accomplishments. "These college kids will never get any older," he explains, "because new ones come along every year. . . and they'll keep calling us 'cutters.' To them it's just a dirty word. To me it's just another thing I never got a chance to be."

The themes of lost dreams and lowered expectations carry over to others in the town as well -- including not only Mike's older brother, a Bloomington city cop, but also Dave's own parents. Dave's father clearly feels trapped in his job selling used cars, and wishes he could be back cutting the limestone which was used in the grand buildings of the university -- buildings he says are "too good" for him now. In another scene, in which Dave's mother (Barbara Barrie) urges him to follow his dreams, she shows him her passport -- obviously obtained with dreams of traveling the world -- but now used only as an ID for cashing checks at the A&P. In the end, all the townies, or "cutters," put their hopes on the boys as they race against the college kids in the university's famous Little 500 bicycle race.

Incidentally, the film's title, Breaking Away, has a two-fold meaning. On one hand, it is a term from bicycle racing, referring to the lone rider or small group who go against the odds and try to ride away from the main pack of racers hoping for victory. On the other hand, it also refers to the idea of breaking away from the past, or from family, or childhood, etc. Either sense of the expression fits the film perfectly.

The film won the Oscar for Best Original Screenplay (Steve Tesich) and the Golden Globe for Best Picture - Comedy. For a full list of awards see the IMDB. The American Film Institute has ranked Breaking Away as #8 in their list of 100 Most Inspirational Films, and #8 in their list of Best Sports Films.

For serious fans of the film, there is a lot of interesting trivia to be found.

One of the actual bikes from the film, a 1978 Masi Gran
Criterium, was on display at the 2013 NAHBS.
(photo from UrbanVelo)
For one thing, the primary bikes used in the film were a pair of California-built Masi Gran Criteriums, one of which was shown at the 2013 North American Handmade Bicycle Show (NAHBS). I recall reading a few years ago in a Classic Rendezvous thread about the bikes that at least one of the bikes may have been badly damaged at some point in the years following the film -- if that was this bike or a different one, I have no idea, or even if that was actually true. UrbanVelo ran an article about the bike shown at NAHBS and consulted with a technical advisor and bicycle mechanic from the film about it. That advisor mentions some differences about the bike from the way it was used in the film. That would make sense, because according to Dennis Christopher, the bike has been restored. A third bike was used in filming, but it was not a Masi -- it was a Sears Free Spirit, painted and decaled as a Masi, and used in a pivotal scene where an Italian racer shoves a frame pump into the spokes, sending Dave Stohler to the pavement. The bikes used by the Italian team were all Colnagos.

Speaking of the Italians, one of them was played by American track racer John Vande Velde, who was a two-time Olympian and National Champion cyclist, as well as the father of Christian Vande Velde, formerly of the U.S. Postal Team and the Garmin Team.

The character of Dave Stohler was based at least in part on Dave Blase, a fraternity brother of writer Steve Tesich from their college days. Tesich and Blase were teammates in the 1962 edition of the IU Little 500 where Blase reportedly rode 139 out of 200 laps for the victory. Supposedly he was also a lover of all things Italian. The character's last name was inspired by their team manager, Bob Stohler. Dave Blase made a cameo appearance in the film as the Little 500 announcer.

The name given to the local boys in the film, the "cutters," is actually a change from how the Bloomington locals were known in Tesich's time at Indiana U. Back then, they were known as "stoners" (as in limestone), but that name has such a widespread drug-related meaning that it was changed, lest movie viewers get the wrong idea about the boys.

Shaun Cassidy as Dave Stohler in the ABC series. His bike
in the pilot episode was a Huffy (equipped with sew-up tires!)
prior to winning his Italian bike in a race.
The film was loved enough that it spawned a short-lived television series on ABC, starring 1980 teen heartthrob Shaun Cassidy as Dave. The series is set up as a "prequel" to the events of the movie. Jackie Earle Haley reprised his role as Moocher, and Barbara Barrie as Dave's mother. Vincent Gardenia replaced Paul Dooley as Dave's father. The show's premiere ended up being delayed due to a writers' strike, and it never really caught on with audiences. It was cancelled after only seven episodes, but I remember watching all seven of them as a teenager. It wasn't as good as the film, but I enjoyed it nevertheless. The original episodes can be seen today on YouTube.

The original cast from the film, recently reunited
 for an article for Entertainment Weekly.
Breaking Away was something of a launching pad for the careers of some of its young stars. Dennis Christopher, Dennis Quaid, and Daniel Stern were all unknowns at the time of the film's release. Only Jackie Earle Haley was a familiar face, having starred in the Bad News Bears films. Quaid and Stern would go on to other very successful films or television shows -- some might remember Stern as the voice of "grown-up" Kevin Arnold, the narrator of ABC's baby-boomer nostalgia feast The Wonder Years. Dennis Christopher was nominated for and/or won numerous "newcomer" awards in '79, although his career didn't pan out in the "leading man" direction one might have expected. Still, he's kept busy as an actor and most recently appeared in Quentin Tarantino's Django Unchained. Jackie Earle Haley has had some career ups and downs, but has recently been in films like Watchmen and Shutter Island, as well as Steven Spielberg's Lincoln.

As for other actors in the film, Paul Dooley has been a presence on screens large and small since the early 60s, but since Breaking Away, has practically made a career of playing cranky but loving fathers. Barbara Barrie, likewise, has had a long career -- but frequently plays characters that would seem familiar to fans of Dave's patient and accepting mom, Evelyn Stohler.

The director of the film, Peter Yates, died in 2011, but will always be remembered not only for Breaking Away, but also for another classic movie, Bullitt with Steve McQueen. The film's writer, Steve Tesich, would go on to write the screenplay for another favorite film of mine, The World According to Garp, based on the John Irving novel and starring Robin Williams. A few years later he would write 1985's American Flyers, based to some extent on the Coors Classic bicycle race and starring an excellently mustachioed Kevin Costner. That film is notable for some great racing footage (some of which was filmed right alongside the actual Coors Classic race), an incredible wheel change by Rae Dawn Chong, and some bad clichés. I like the movie, but it's one of those that doesn't really resonate with non-bicycle-geeks the way Breaking Away does. I'll probably write about that one in a future post. Tesich died in 1996.

Hard core bicyclists sometimes criticize the film for technical errors -- a notable one being a scene where Dave is drafting behind a truck going up to 60 mph (unlikely), and a closeup shot of the bike's drivetrain reveals that the bike is on the small chainring (really unlikely). The thing is, though, that the film isn't really about the bikes, and technical mistakes can be found in any film if you look for them, even those that are hailed among the best. What I think is much more important is the emotion of the film. Dave Stohler is a misfit. His friendship with the high school quarterback doesn't change the fact that the whole crew of them are misfits. But Dave's bike opens up an imaginative world for him wider than the confines of his Indiana town. Consider a scene at the quarry, where Moocher says to Dave, "Ever since you won that Italian bike, man, you've been actin' weird. Gettin' to think you're Italian, aren't ya." To which Cyril adds, "I wouldn't mind thinkin' I was somebody myself." For Dave, his bike and his love for everything Italian makes him a new person. On his bike, he imagines himself to be something more than he is. I remember feeling that way when I was on my bike as a misfit teenager, too. The movie really resonated for me.

As Breaking Away nears its 35th anniversary, it's worth celebrating not only as one of the best bicycle-themed movies ever, but also as just a great film about growing up in general. Putting its emphasis on the characters, story, and great writing, the movie strikes a chord with audiences across generations -- even those who don't know a Huffy from a Masi.

Retrogrouch Ride: Masi Gran Criterium

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After writing about one of my favorite films, Breaking Away, and one of the "stars" of the film -- a Masi Gran Criterium -- I thought today I would share my own Masi with the readers of The Retrogrouch.

My own Masi is a 1981 Gran Criterium that I found back in 2006. It was generally in pretty nice shape when I found it, and the price was good, though it did need a little help. It came to me built with a mix of parts from Campagnolo and Zeus. While the Zeus parts are decent, they don't quite have the caché of Campagnolo Super Record -- and the best race bikes of the time would certainly have been built with the full Super Record "gruppo." Luckily, I only needed to swap out a few parts, and I already had some of what I needed handy. I sold off the Zeus pieces on eBay and got enough money for them to buy the remainder of what I needed to complete the Campy group. All the Campagnolo parts are dated between 1981 - 1982.

The frame looked nice to start with, but it had some rust in places, and a couple of damaged cable guides that had to be repaired/replaced -- so the frame went to CyclArt in California. Owner Jim Cunningham is very knowledgeable about Masi bikes, being that he had worked at the Masi factory in California before starting his own restoration shop. CycleArt repaired the damages and then matched the old paint and decals exactly. I had a bit of an internal struggle in that an emotional part of myself thought a lot about having the bike painted in that deep red/orange like Dave Stohler's bike in Breaking Away -- but in the end, I decided it was best to stick to the original color. I really love the "Spanish Blue" with yellow combination anyhow.


For some of the finishing touches, I used Cinelli saddle, bars, and stem -- all very appropriate choices for a bike like this and of this vintage. Although Cinelli was using its modern "flying C" logo by 1981, I managed to find parts with the older logos, which I think is a nice touch. By 1981, a person might have seen either version, but I always liked the earlier look. The shiny, almost translucent yellow handlebar tape and brake cables were really fashionable choices in the '80s, so I was happy to find them for this bike.

I took this to the Classic Rendezvous Cirque du Cyclisme show and swap meet a few years ago. Photographer Ken Toda was taking nice-looking professional pictures of some of the bikes, so that's where these photos came from. I hope the readers enjoy.

Pure Money

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A UCI decision to allow disc brakes on road racing bikes would be a "game changer," says an engineer and project leader at Cannondale. "It's a paradise. In the industry you can hardly find a brand that will not support that. First of all, a lot of them are bike freaks themselves so they can't wait to have that, and second, everybody realizes it's a huge improvement of the riding experience, so for them it's pure money because there's another reason why they should buy a new bike." (emphasis added by Retrogrouch) "As the riding experience is so much better than it was before, the market will grow a little bit because the higher the pleasure of riding, the higher the market will be."

How exactly is the riding experience with disc brakes "so much better than before." And how is that going to make the market grow? Are there people out there who don't ride bikes because they're waiting for disc brakes? Are people laying around on their couches, or sitting in their cars thinking, "Sure, I'd love to get out there and ride a bike, but not until the UCI approves disc brakes"?

No, I think the most accurate and revealing part of the quote above is "it's pure money because there's another reason why they should buy a new bike." This is another case where they are counting on people who already own bikes (probably several) to see their old rides as obsolete. To give them a new itch that can only be scratched with something billed as a "huge improvement" that is actually nothing of the sort.

I reported last month about how the UCI appointed a new technical advisor, Dimitri Katsanis, who aims to scrap a lot of the the restrictions that reputedly hold back the march of technology in professional bicycle racing. I just read in BikeRadar that a UCI decision on disc brakes is expected within 6 months (which way do you suppose they'll decide? Hmmmm . . .) And in a separate article that the 6.8 kg (15.99 lbs) weight limit is soon to be dumped as "outdated," to be replaced with an ISO standard for minimum safety of bikes and components.

About that minimum weight standard. I'll admit, the 6.8 kg number was pretty arbitrary. It came about at least in part because some thought that to go below that number might result in dangerously light bikes -- bikes that wouldn't hold up in competition. The thing is, though, that even above that number there are failures of frames and components (don't wait to see that in the manufacturer's ads). Another reason for the UCI's limits on technology -- one that often gets ignored -- was that they want (or wanted) to keep bicycle racing as a competition of men, not a competition of technology.

I shouldn't get too worked up about this -- these regulations only impact the bikes ridden in UCI-sanctioned races. Weight-obsessed roadies and technophiles are already buying sub-15 lb bikes and disc brakes, convinced that somehow these things will transform them from mid-pack finishers to winners. But obviously, the industry is salivating at the thought of getting UCI approval of still-lighter frames and disc brakes because so many roadies out there want to ride what the pros ride -- so the regulations serve as a bit of a wet blanket on the industry's marketing enthusiasm.

But don't let them kid you that sub-15 lb bikes and disc brakes are improvements. It's all about pure money. Plain and simple.

If Ads Were Honest

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If advertising were honest, most cyclists would realize that they already have disc brakes. Rim brakes functionally are disc brakes, and most road bikes have had them for generations. The disc brakes that are based on motorcycle and automotive designs, with their little 140 - 160 mm rotors, are in many ways inferior to the brakes bicycles have been using for decades. In wet, muddy conditions, like those encountered by mountain bikers -- the "new" designs offer some benefits. But for road cyclists, there are at least as many drawbacks as there are benefits to the new designs. The small-diameter discs heat up much more quickly than the 622 mm discs we call "rims." That heat will warp the little rotors, which are only a couple millimeters thick, in no time. Cable-operated versions have inferior modulation, while hydraulic systems are supposed to be better in that regard. Then again, overheating with a hydraulic system can boil some kinds of brake fluid, leading to no brakes at all. The only thing wrong with good-quality rim brakes is that they are simple and they work. So how could we market that?


Likewise, an honest ad about the "new" disc brakes might look like this:



If advertising were honest, people would know that carbon fiber forks with massive, tapered steerers and corresponding head tubes are the result of past failures and trial-and-error. Carbon is great on paper -- it even blows away steel in lab tests. But carbon frames and forks are a "work in progress" being tested on people who are paying a premium for the privilege of being used as crash test dummies. How could we advertise that?


Don't expect to see any of these ads in cycling magazine anytime soon.

A Flat Market

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I've been grouching for a while now about how the bicycle industry has been trying to seek growth by convincing existing bike owners to buy more bikes. That explains the constant push toward planned obsolescence. It explains why every year, incremental product changes are hyped as major breakthroughs, and why new, increasingly narrow market segments are constantly being created. On the whole, it's a pretty unhealthy way to work.

I read recently in Bike Retailer some confirmation that the industry is recognizing the problem -- not that they know what to do about it. At the Bicycle Leadership Conference in Monterey, CA last week, a panel discussion on industry statistics found that sales of bicycles overall are shrinking, particularly when compared with population. "The stats don't lie and shrinking shipments of bikes suggests more needs to be done to boost cycling participation, provide more accessibility with entry level product and sell the experience of cycling rather than complex technology," said Bike Retailer.

I like the part about selling the "experience of cycling rather than complex technology." I've been saying for a while now that making bikes more complicated is not making more people want to ride bikes. Disc brakes and expensive electronic shifting systems are not converting people to cycling -- and why would they? Increasingly expensive technology is just adding to the perception of bicycles as toys for rich people.

An operations manager for Felt Bicycles, Michael Forte, was quoted in the Bike Retailer article saying, "The U.S. population is growing at a substantial rate, but we're selling less bicycles per person."

The article also pointed out that there has been some growth in certain segments of the market -- as in some of the latest "must have" trends, like 27.5 mountain bikes -- but those are offset by larger declines in other segments. "27.5 is not doing enough to increase mountain bike volume -- both 26 and 29er sales are down at retail," said Liz Stahura, a senior retail analyst at Leisure Trends. Forte added, "There's growth in 27.5, but we're not growing the overall pie."

What this says to me is that people who are buying 27.5 mountain bikes are probably the same people who already own bikes in 26-in. and 29er versions. Or, they're choosing the "latest" 27.5 instead of the other options. Either way, that growth is very likely nothing more than a temporary blip.

So what can be done?

I'm oddly reminded of the gun industry. Strangely enough, the gun industry works on a similar market model to the bicycle industry -- getting existing owners to buy more. Since the 1970s, the number of homes that have guns has been steadily declining. According to the NY Times, March 9, 2013, the number has gone from about 49% in the 1970s, to roughly 35% in the current decade. Yet, in that time, overall sales of guns have been increasing -- in other words, fewer people are buying more guns. But the gun industry has one big tool to get those people to keep buying -- Fear. Every time there's a big shooting in the news, gun sales increase. People who have guns find that the guns they have don't make them feel safer -- and they get to thinking they need another gun. It seems to work.

Unfortunately, the bicycle industry doesn't have that tool available. Fear of obesity, heart disease, etc. isn't enough to get people riding bikes. In fact, fear in general is a major hindrance to cycling.

An opinion piece by industry analyst Jay Townley (also in Bike Retailer) says that the industry really needs to get behind bicycle advocacy to encourage more people to start riding. That might be a start. Fear of traffic keeps a lot of people from riding. It's one of the first things people say to me when they find out how often I bike to work -- "Aren't you afraid of the cars?" Doing more to make people feel safe, or at least comfortable, while riding is probably a big step.

Better bicycling education might be a good step, too -- starting with drivers' education. Most states require drivers' education before one can get a license (at least for new drivers in their teens, but it varies). Those education programs should do more to inform drivers of cyclists rights, and teach them how to share the road with cyclists. Teach them to not only be better drivers, but also about being better riders. I think that would go a long way to making riders safer.

Another thing is that the racing influence on bicycle design needs to stop. I have no doubt that Lance Armstrong in his heyday sold a lot of bicycles, but we all know how that fairy tale ended. People say that "racing improves the breed" but I don't think that's true -- at least not for most bikes or riders. New developments are introduced at the "top," and the marketing is there to build demand for it so it will "filter down" to the rest of us. It's no secret that most people who ride bicycles don't race, yet the racing influence on design can be seen even in bikes that will never be raced -- and that influence actually detracts from the bikes.

There was a time when touring bikes were thought to be the pinnacle of bike design. While long-distance touring bikes are probably not the answer either, at least they were comfortable and practical. I think that today there needs to be more emphasis on road-worthy but simple and practical designs. Constantly chasing after more technology, adding complexity to what should really be a simple machine, adds to the perception that bikes are toys for the rich or for Lance Armstrong wannabes (sorry to mention him again, but he's still the only bike racer most Americans can name), and I believe it scares people off.

People need to see that bicycles are fun, and practical, and one doesn't need to dress all in lycra to enjoy riding one. Even just making the point that a bicycle is a good alternative to a car when one only needs to make a short trip might help -- and putting more emphasis on those bikes instead of trying to get existing cyclists to buy increasingly complicated and expensive steeds might be the approach needed.

Thoughts are welcome.

What For The Money?

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Last year, I wrote about hyper-expensive "halo bikes" -- bikes that supposedly represent the pinnacle of what the manufacturers are able to make, and selling for astronomical prices -- like $10,000 and up. These bikes practically beg the question "are they worth it." My own thought is a definite "No." Recently, the price of high-end performance has gotten so bad that even BikeRadar's Angry Asian has taken to complaining about it. "As performance levels increase to truly incredible heights, it legitimately costs more to eke out those ever more elusive bits of remaining potential. That said, I can't shake the feeling that everyday riders are slowly being priced out of the sport we all love so dearly," he says.

Angry Asian asks the question "Do those top-end prices actually reflect proportional increases in delivered performance? The answer, of course, is no. No one can make the argument that a very expensive bike is twice as good as one that costs half as much." Agreed. I would add that the $10,000 - $15,000 bike isn't twice as good as a bike that costs a quarter as much. In fact, I would argue that it's not noticeably better at all.
Specialized S-Works McLaren Venge: $18,000

It's obvious that the prices aren't set by development costs and material costs plus a reasonable profit margin. The bikes are expensive because they can be. Because there are wealthy fools out there willing to pay a super-premium for the illusion of having something exclusive. Look at some of the bikes and their prices: Specialized S-Works McLaren Venge, $18,000. Trek Madone 7.9 WSD, $15,500. Cervelo R5ca, $10,000 (frameset only). All of them are basically popped out of molds. They're only "exclusive" because they're priced out of reach for anybody but the top 1%. I can only guess that the point is to get people lusting over them so that when they see the "regular" versions -- popped out of essentially the same molds but selling for half as much -- they'll think it's a "bargain." I would argue it's still too much. Angry Asian's article points out that it leads to an upward push on high-end gear in general, and he's probably right.

Dave Moulton, a retired framebuilder, now a writer and blogger, has looked at bicycle pricing in a couple of his articles (Here, and Here). When Dave's business was at its height in the 1980s, he sold some very nice custom-built frames, made to order for his customers. He also made a very nice line of hand-built production bikes, his Fuso line, made in small batches to more standardized frame specs. These were very well-designed, beautifully built frames -- comparable to, or in some ways better than the top-level competition being imported from Italy at the time. They were sold as framesets, to be built into complete bicycles with components selected by the dealer or the customer.

1986 Fuso with Dura Ace -- about $1000 in its day.
Dave writes in his blog about how a bike dealer back then might have sold a few of his Fuso bicycles alongside mass-produced Japanese competition from companies like Nishiki and Centurion. He writes, "Pricewise the Fuso was not 20 times more than the production bike. In fact if the dealer put lower priced components on the Fuso, like Sugino and SunTour, the Fuso would come out at about the same price as the Nishiki or the Centurian."

In another article, Dave points out his price list from 1990, not too long before he would retire from framebuilding. He writes, "The most expensive is the Fuso Lux, which was custom built to order, with chrome plating, and retailed at $3,150 equipped with Campagnolo C Record components. This was probably the most you would pay for any top-of-the-line racing bicycle." Today, top-of-the-line racing bikes are, as we see already, selling for as much as $15,000. Dave goes on to show that average income has increased by roughly 50% since 1990, but obviously the price of top-level bicycles has grown considerably more. He says, "There is a culture within the cycling community now that almost wants to pay these high prices." Perhaps worth noting is the fact that incomes for people at the top of the food chain have grown considerably more than for those in the more humble masses -- and for that elite group, price equals prestige.

"Back when I built frames, as a small individual builder," Dave writes, "I could compete with the larger import companies and still make a fair profit. Today, top-of-the-line bikes are made by large corporations, and prices are not based on what it costs to produce, but rather by what the market will stand." I think that's true. I mentioned before that for the price of the Trek Madone listed above, one could buy a Honda CBR1000RR -- one of the hottest performance motorcycles available -- and still have enough left for an awfully nice bicycle.

Last year in my article about "halo bikes" I mentioned (as does Dave Moulton) that there are all kinds of builders out there today making truly hand-made bikes in all kinds of materials -- bikes that are made to order, one-of-a-kind, and in many ways more "exclusive" than some of these hyper-expensive prestige machines -- and many of them can be had for a fraction of the price.

Considering the "flat" state of today's bicycle market, inflating prices for prestige and adding to the perception of bicycles as toys for the rich is no solution. How about some sanity. . . please?

Kickstarter Innovations

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I was all set to write today about some goofy bike-related Kickstarter innovations, like these "Upper Wheel Fairings" that "reinvent the bicycle wheel to minimize overall wheel drag, increasing headwind penetration speeds." One can "readily feel the difference in penetrating even a slight headwind," says the copy in the Kickstarter campaign.

For the ultimate in headwind penetration.
I say, I was all set to write about them -- then I saw yesterday's Bike Snob post, where he wonders why anyone who won't put fenders on their bikes would "spoil the elegant lines of their plastic dork chariots with these."

Oh well -- there's one blog post idea basically shot down. Believe me, it was going to be awesome.

Nevertheless, there are plenty of other "innovations" to see on Kickstarter, and it surprises me how many of them have actually made their fundraising goals.

Here was one that kind of annoyed me, The Sutro Mission Bicycle, designed and built in San Francisco. The creators billed it as "an innovative bicycle designed specifically for city riding." I failed to find anything particularly innovative about it. Their fundraising campaign said, "The Sutro was designed by and for city cyclists to be ridden everyday and everywhere. We took the simplicity of a single speed bike and added the versatility of a Shimano multi-geared internal hub. Then to achieve a clean aesthetic we routed the brake and shifter cables through the frame."

Hub gearing and internal cable routing? Nope -- neither of those things has ever been done before.

Did we mention internal
cable routing?
I can only assume it never rains in San Francisco, because this innovative city bicycle designed to be ridden "everyday" has no means for attaching fenders, and even if it did, the clearance looks questionable. And these "city cyclists" apparently aren't riding to work any time soon, because there are no rack eyelets either. Why not? Because the "Sutro frame was conceived to have only what was essential. Since there are many ways to add fenders, racks, bottle cages, etc. without eyelets or braze-ons we choose to leave them off." So I guess the "innovation" comes in trying to figure out how to attach all those city-riding essentials that the creators don't consider essential. But did we mention that it has internal cable routing? (actually, I think they mention it three or four times, not counting the video). So, if you think "city riding . . . everyday and everywhere" means riding to the coffee shop on sunny days, this is the innovative bike for you! Fully funded, of course.

Airless "flat-free" tires are nothing new, but they crop up again and again. The latest version was on Kickstarter, and was fully funded -- the @cme FlatFree Wheels. The creator and his investing supporters should have read the late Sheldon Brown's take on these things. "Airless tires have been obsolete for over a century, but crackpot 'inventors' keep trying to bring them back," wrote Brown. "They are heavy and slow. They give a harsh ride and poor high-speed cornering on rough surfaces. They are also likely to cause wheel damage, due to their poor cushioning ability."

The creator of the @cme FlatFree wheels claims "these tires weigh more than traditional tires, and ride like a tire with 60 pounds of air in it. They will add about 1400 grams to each wheel. You will NEVER have to fix a flat." Ummm, I'm not a weight weenie by any stretch, but 1400 grams is about 3 pounds -- for each wheel.

But the most ridiculous thing about this fundraising venture is that they bill this as though they came up with the things themselves without making it clear that they are just using existing airless tires, the Hutchinson Serenity, and mounting them on wheels they build. You could just order a pair of the Hutchinsons (or have your local bike shop get them for you, but they'll probably advise against it) and mount them to your existing wheels. But then you wouldn't have the pleasure of supporting innovation.

To be filed under the heading "Why" comes the Handlebar Minibar: "A way of discreetly storing drink, banknotes or a rolled cigarette inside your bicycle's handlebars . . . for when you need them most." It holds 5 ml of liquid -- keep in mind that a typical American shotglass holds about 44 ml. A UK shot (the creator is in London, after all) is 25 - 35 ml. If someone can't get through a typical bike ride without needing a fraction of a shot of liquor, they have some real issues. I'm reminded of the portrayal of alcoholics on bad after-school specials who always have a secret stash of booze hidden away somewhere for when they get the DTs. Then again, it could be used for a cigarette -- because lots of cyclists succumb to that craving when riding.
The Jiggernaut -- for the amateur frame builder or hobbyist.
Fully funded.

Now this last one, The Jiggernaut, struck me as a pretty cool thing. It's essentially a relatively inexpensive jig for do-it-yourself frame builders. The Jiggernaut is CNC machined out of 3/4-in. thick MDF board and allows for a decent range of bicycle styles and geometries. I have no idea if this would work well or not, and I'd be interested to know what an experienced framebuilder would think of it -- but my impression of it is that it might be worthwhile. One doesn't need a jig to build a frame, but it helps -- but most of the ones that are available are pretty expensive and designed for professionals. I've given some thought to trying my hand at framebuilding someday, so this is one new product I'd like to know more about.

Vintage Advertising Time Machine

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Although it probably drives my wife crazy, or makes me seem like one of those deeply troubled people on A&E's Hoarders, I can't bring myself to throw away old bike magazines. When you write a blog like The Retrogrouch, having a stockpile of bike magazines going back to the 1970s can be a great resource. Anyhow, I just get a kick out of digging up old issues of Bicycling and looking at the ads. The full page ads from Bike Warehouse (that's Nashbar to anyone born after 1980) and Bikecology just about kill me. 1979, Bike Warehouse -- Phil Wood hubs, $49.95 a pair. Oh, to have a time machine.

Looking at the bikes and the riders in the ads is also just a fun glimpse at a time when ideas and attitudes about bikes, and the industry itself, were very different. For example, look at these two ads from Schwinn -- both from '79. People ride in basic sneakers and clothes that were no different from what they might wear for any kind of physical activity back then. Granted, the shorts were super short (for both women AND men), but there's not a bit of lycra to be seen, and nobody seems to wear any cycling-specific clothing.

Note the his-n-hers matching outfits with the short shorts. Gotta love the helmets. Decent hardshell helmets, like the Bell Biker, were just being introduced to the market, but some makers of the leather hairnets were trying to bulk up their old-style helmets to keep on top of things (the ones in this ad are branded "Schwinn" but I'm certain they were made by Kucharik). I'm no weight weenie, but I always have to smile at the "X-tra Lite" moniker Schwinn gave their better bikes -- this ad touts the lightweight 31 lbs. of the LeTour IV. Still, they'd last forever.
I'm enjoying the turtleneck with shorts on Jean-Claude Killy, the Olympic skier. No helmets this time. But they do seem to be enjoying themselves out for a casual ride. In today's flat market, highlighting the simple fun of riding will probably sell more bikes to a wider market than trying to sell increasingly complex technology to existing cyclists.
I always liked the fresh-faced models in the Fuji ads from this era. Notice the guy behind her decked out in the cycling-specific clothes of the day -- knit jersey and shorts, the cycling shoes, and the leather hairnet. One didn't see that in the ads very often before this.
The Takara girl's look epitomized active wear of the late 70s. Short shorts and tall socks. 
No models this time -- just a really nice touring bike, then or now. Before the racing mindset took over, bikes like this were the ultimate expression of what makes a great bike. True long-distance touring bikes like this would become terrifically popular among the Japanese builders in the early-to-mid 80s, but this 1979 Miyata Gran Touring was one of the first. About the only things it didn't come with off the showroom floor were bags and fenders. Notice the features that would become standard touring-bike fare -- brazed-on fittings for bottles, racks, and fenders; cantilever brakes; sturdy racks front and rear; 40-spoke rear wheel (36 front -- which I think makes a smart combination); SunTour PowerRatchet shift levers (on the downtube -- the bar-end versions would have been an even nicer touch); and half-step + granny gearing. The late Sheldon Brown called these "possibly the finest off-the-shelf touring bike available at the time."
Not a lot of deep insight or grouchy ranting today. Just some light musings on my imaginary time-machine. Enjoy.

Driver Who Hits Cyclist: "I Just Don't Care"

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This is pretty infuriating to read. 

Kimberly Davis, a 21-year old Australian woman, slammed into a bicyclist while she was texting and driving. This mature and responsible driver wants something to be done about the victim's pain and suffering -- her own pain and suffering, that is.  That's right. She thinks she's the victim.


I'm not self-centered. I just know who's
really important.

"I just don't care because I've already been through a lot of bullshit and my car is, like, pretty expensive and now I have to fix it," she told the police. 

Poor thing. How dare that bicyclist dent up her car after she plowed into him. Oh, wait -- she thinks the accident was the cyclists fault.

"I'm kind of pissed off that the cyclist has hit the side of my car. I don't agree that people texting and driving could hit a cyclist. I wasn't on my phone when I hit the cyclist," she said later. That's right -- everybody knows that talking on the phone while driving is dangerous, which is why she thinks texting is OK.

After her "ordeal" Davis did what any self-centered airhead would do -- she turned to Facebook, where she showed lots of concern for the victim, and a full appreciation for the seriousness of her actions.
From HuffingtonPost. I don't even know what to make of the comments
and "likes" to this dim-bulb's Facebook posts. Her "friends" must be
really responsible and mature people, too.
The actual victim had a fractured spine, requiring surgery and placement in a special spinal cage for three months of recovery. He was absolutely lucky not to end up paralyzed. 
According to the original story in Australia's Standard, Davis was fined $4500 and lost her license for 9 months. The wife of the injured cyclist said she was disappointed that Davis didn't lose her license for even longer. Given Davis's attitude and complete lack of remorse, I think she should never drive again. 

Smart Phones, Dumb People

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After the post about the self-centered dim-bulb who hit a cyclist while texting then declared "I don't care" I thought I'd diverge a bit from bicycles and look into the problem of phones and texting while driving.

I know a lot of people -- even some retrogrouches out there -- love their smart phones. Some people love them too much. Even though more states are passing laws against texting while driving, it doesn't seem to me that many people are paying attention. At any given time while I'm riding among the traffic, I probably see as many as one in five drivers either on the phone, or very obviously looking at the phone they're holding just out of sight. That's an informal count, but I'll bet others could make similar observations.

In my state, Ohio, our legislature passed a texting law last year that they claimed was one of the toughest in the country. Forgive me, but that is either BS, or other states' laws are pitiful. Our law is a primary offense for those under age 18, but only a secondary offense for adults, making it ridiculous to try to enforce. Unless somebody is obviously a minor, it's very likely that they can text completely in the open with no fear of being pulled over. As a secondary offense, a person can only be punished for texting while driving after they've done something else -- like run a stoplight, (or hit a cyclist, God forbid). According to the Columbus Dispatch, the new law nabbed a whopping 273 people in its first year, carrying possible fines up to $150. That's not much of a deterrent. By comparison, 367,600 speeding tickets were issued in the same period.

The thing that bothers me about texting and driving -- the thing that brings it back to cycling -- is how dangerous it makes things for those of us who ride. A University of Utah study showed that people talking on the phone while driving have the same level of impairment as someone with a 0.08% blood-alcohol content. Texting and driving is even worse, as texting drivers are up to 23 times more likely to be involved in an accident than those who are unimpaired and undistracted. It used to be that if you saw a driver drifting out of their lane, or who was unable to maintain a steady speed, it was a good sign they were drunk. Nowadays, they're probably using their phone. What's worse is that alcohol-impaired drivers are more common at nighttime hours when cyclists are less likely to be on the road, but phone-distracted drivers can be common at any time, making them even more of a threat to cyclists.

Bob Mionske, of BicycleLaw.com, says, "As cell-phone use becomes ubiquitous, there are increasing numbers of documented incidents of distracted drivers hitting cyclists they never even saw. But too many in our society think that they are somehow different and can safely drive while using a mobile device. This is the same delusion that contributes to drunk driving -- people think they can 'handle' the alcohol."

Despite the demonstrable danger to cyclists and others, some states are still balking at passing anti-texting legislation, and those that have such laws are reluctant to make them more effective. Why? Is the telecomm industry putting up resistance? Who does someone have to bribe to get something done? In Texas, Gov. Rick Perry has long been an opponent of a statewide texting/driving ban, calling such legislation "misguided" as he vetoed a law passed by the state's legislators. Perry, along with the state's attorney general, says that he's against any law that attempts to "micromanage adult behavior." (Ironic in a state that defended its anti-sodomy law all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court). Meanwhile, one in five traffic crashes in Texas is caused by a distracted driver (Dallas Morning News). I shouldn't be surprised, considering that Texas didn't even have a law banning open containers of alcohol in cars until 2001. Maybe I shouldn't be so hard on our legislators here in Ohio.

I still don't have a smart phone. See, I'm not just a retrogrouch about bicycles. No, I have what I call a "dumb phone." It makes calls, and takes calls. It also takes blurry photos, but I can't figure out how to get them off the phone, so I don't count that feature. My car has bluetooth capability (surprise!) which allows me to make a "hands free" call with voice commands, but the University of Utah study and others have shown that "hands free" doesn't really make cell phones any safer when driving -- so I just make it a personal policy to avoid calls unless I'm stopped. I don't believe I'm suffering in any way by not being connected every minute of every day.

Unfortunately, it seems to me that we as humans may have something in our nature that leads us to self-centered behavior -- look at young children for instance -- it must be in our genes. What's worse, our culture today seems to thrive on that instinct, or maybe even reward it somehow. Constant use of smart phones just makes it easier for people to succumb to that tendency. My big question is how many cyclists, pedestrians, and others will have to be killed or injured before something actually gets done about it?

The Lauterbrunnental Leaflet

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I once very nearly named this blog The Lauterbrunnental Leaflet, after a fictional retrogrouchy newsletter from the now-defunct comic strip Yehuda Moon & The Kickstand Cyclery. The comic was a must-read for anyone interested in bicycles, as creator and artist Rick Smith really had his finger on the pulse of the bicycle world.

The comic revolved around a little bike shop, The Kickstand Cyclery, and its owners/partners Yehuda Moon and Joe King. Yehuda and Joe represented two very different sides of the bicycle world. Yehuda was the retrogrouch and bicycle advocate, forever tilting at windmills as he'd ride his bike everywhere regardless of the weather. He believed in waxed cotton bags, fenders, Dutch city bikes, rain capes, lugged steel frames, etc. Joe was the club-racer speed demon who believed in going fast, keeping light, using modern technology, and driving to work when it rains. The shop's other employee, level-headed Thistle, was the woman who tried to keep the universe balanced between those two opposing forces.

Much of the content of the comic was introduced through the day-to-day operations of the bike shop and interactions with the customers who would come and go. A few regulars included "Captain Dashboard," who had every known gadget attached to his handlebar; the "Bicycle Hypochondriac" who always worried about imaginary bike afflictions; the bearded "Recumbent Rider" (self-explanatory); the neighborhood kids; and the visiting ghost of Fred, the bike shop's former owner, killed by a hit-and-run driver -- visible only to Yehuda, Joe, and (sometimes) Thistle's child, Fizz.

Yehuda and Fred get "enlightenment" from the Lauterbrunnental Leaflet.

From time to time, the strip would feature Yehuda perusing the pages of his favorite newsletter, The Lauterbrunnental Leaflet, which according to the strip's creator, Smith, was based on The Rivendell Reader. The real newsletter would be eagerly awaited by fans and devotees of Grant Petersen, the Rivendell Bicycles founder who would espouse such topics as the simple joys of traditional bicycles, the beauty and comfort of leather saddles, and the wonders of beeswax. Yehuda was a full fledged fan of the fictional leaflet, while Joe would routinely mock it.

Fizz dispenses wisdom from the cargo box of a Bakefiets.

YM&TKC often delved into bicycle-world debates I could relate to -- like carbon vs. steel, bike lanes, vehicular cycling, the helmet debate, and more. The debates were rarely ever "settled," but between the various characters, one would often get to see several points of view, and it was usually a good laugh.

The strip ran from 2008 through 2012, with a hiatus that lasted several months late in 2011. Co-writer Brian Griggs entered the picture some time after the first year. The comic strip ended in December 2012, with Smith citing the difficulty in keeping the strip going amidst other obligations. One can still follow the strip's entire run online at www.yehudamoon.com and there are four bound collections available for purchase at Bicycle Quarterly Press. There is a fifth volume, covering the 2012 strips, but it seems to be a difficult one to find.

Some interesting background about the strip is that Smith is an Ohio native, and used the area around Cleveland as the setting for his fictional bike shop world. The building that housed the Kickstand Cyclery was based on an actual Cleveland-area landmark, the Coventry Station in Shaker Heights, a little tudor-styled depot next to the rapid transit tracks. It once housed a gas station, but has never actually been a bike shop.

The Coventry Station in Shaker Heights was the basis for the
 Kickstand Cyclery. It was an RTA rapid transit station,
and served as a gas station for a time but it has
 never actually been a bike shop. (from Wikipedia)
Many of the topics and events of YM&TKC are drawn from experiences and conversations involving writers Smith and Griggs. "Many of the characters are based on people in my life, though most represent points of view Brian and I have about the subject or situation at hand in the story," said Smith in an interview published in Vol. 4.

It probably worked out well for the comic that Smith and Griggs, in their own attitudes about bicycles, somewhat resemble Yehuda and Joe. Rick Smith generally identifies with Yehuda. "Like him, the glass is always half full . . . I like to use my bicycle for transportation. What's great is that Brian has some of Joe's sensibilities, which means many of our conversations often turn into comics." Brian Griggs added, "More and more these days, I find myself to be the voice of Joe . . . conversations with Rick can generate some pretty witty jabs back and forth and that can generate some great material."

Yes, I have sometimes felt this way about bike bags.
Yehuda Moon & The Kickstand Cyclery is a fun and sometimes thought-provoking look at our bicycle sub-culture. My guess is that anybody who rides would find something or someone to identify with in the comic strip. No question, I often see a bit of myself in Yehuda, and I'll bet a lot of Retrogrouch readers would, too. If readers aren't familiar with the strip, I highly recommend checking it out -- and for those who miss it, it's worth going back and revisiting old friends at the Kickstand.

Just Add Bags

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There was a time when well-designed loaded touring bikes were all the rage. If you flipped through the bike magazines in the early 80s, it seemed that most -- or at least a pretty large percentage -- of the ads were either for touring bikes, or for touring racks, bags, or other related accessories. In a lot of ways, touring bikes were perhaps more popular than racers. Of course, in the '70s there was less of a difference between the two, as racing bikes back then had much longer wheelbases and more tire clearance than they do now. But by the early 80s, there were all kinds of fully equipped tourers on the market. Recently I posted a scan of a 1979 ad for the Miyata Gran Touring bike, which was one of the first of its type from the Japanese makers. It was ready for serious touring right from the factory and needed very little before one could take off cross-country. It didn't take long before many other manufacturers were following suit with bikes that were ready for touring right off the showroom floor. Take a look at a sampling of what was available in the early 80s.

From the Miyata catalog. Their model 1000, aka Gran Touring, was the top of the line and one of the best off-the-rack touring bikes around. All it needed was bags and fenders. Miyata was well known for their quality construction -- the lugwork was simple and clean. They also made bikes for the brand Univega, so one can sometimes find a pretty comparable touring bike with that name when searching the vintage bike market.
Centurion's Pro Tour was another high-quality Japanese-built tourer. It had a good quality lugged chrome-moly frame with clean brazing, and good high-end touring components of the day. And look at that price! (it was 1982, but still. . .) A strong dollar, weak yen meant you could buy some amazing quality in those days.
Schwinn sometimes gets snubbed by serious bike enthusiasts (their Paramount excepted) -- but they had some pretty nice enthusiast-quality bikes, and I've always had a soft spot for them. One of my first good bikes was a Schwinn Super Le Tour. This Voyager SP was almost certainly built in Japan (except for the Paramounts, a lot of the lugged and brazed Schwinns at that time were built either by Bridgestone or National/Panasonic in Japan). The Voyager SP had a nice chrome-moly frame, lots of braze-ons, racks, cantilever brakes, 40-spoke rear wheel, and some pretty serious componentry. Look closely and you'll see that it also came with the really unusual SunTour Superbe Tech rear derailleur -- which was an expensive, beautiful, over-designed derailleur that was supposed to be a revolution, but unfortunately turned out to be deeply flawed in reality -- too complicated for its own good. 
I'm not sure that Shogun made that big of an impact on the American market, but they were another Japanese manufacturer that turned out some pretty well-made bikes. The frames on these had some features that one wouldn't even find on European-built bikes costing twice as much. Look closely at the seat lug with its reinforced bolt-clamp ears -- solid, not "stamped." No ham-fisted mechanic would be crushing that seat binder. Again -- well equipped for loaded touring, and it even came with fenders!

Here's one from Bridgestone in the days before Grant Petersen got involved with the company. In the 70s, Bridgestone was selling bicycles in the U.S. under the Kabuki name (a lot of those weren't so great) along with making some bikes for Schwinn. By the early 80s, they were making some decent bikes with their own name on the frame. Their Antares LDT (long distance tourer) was particularly nice -- fully-equipped with racks, fenders, and good quality components. Later replaced by the model T-700, and later again by the RB-T in the Petersen years.

Not to be outdone, Trek made a really sweet loaded tourer right here in the U.S. with their 720 model, and a somewhat less expensive model (but still very nice), the 520. It featured a high-quality lugged-steel frame made of Reynolds 531 with an extra-long wheelbase, and top-notch components. Note that the one in the catalog was even equipped with a Brooks leather saddle. The only way to get a nicer touring bike than the Trek was to have a custom builder make one for you.

Today's Trek 520 has a welded frame, unicrown fork, sloping
top tube, threadless stem, and v-brakes. At least they brought
back the vintage-looking graphics. Probably a decent bike,
but as far as I'm concerned, it has no soul.
Of course, some loadable touring bikes are still made today -- but to my mind, there is no comparison between old and new. For example, Trek still makes the 520 touring bike, and it's still built with a steel frame. But now it's welded, with a sloping top tube, threadless stem, and a unicrown fork. Given the choice between any of the tourers made today and a vintage example like the ones shown above, I'll take the old classic without hesitation. Classics from the 80s still come up on eBay and many can be had for bargain prices. In some cases, a person could get a vintage lugged steel beauty, get the frame powder coated (if it's looking worn) and update any worn components, and still come in under the price of some of the new generation of touring bikes. Which would you choose?

Weird and Wonderful? or Just Weird?

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I spotted this video on BikeRadar today, although it apparently posted months ago (how did I miss it?). Weird & Wonderful Bike Tech. It is a look at the top 5 technical "innovations" displayed at last fall's Eurobike show. I found it amusing, as I don't even think the reporter took much of it very seriously.


Here are some highlights:

Here we have a classic case of the solution looking for a problem: a bike built with no spokes or hubs in the wheels. OooKayyy. Why? No details were given on this one in the video, but if there's a good reason for this, I'd love to know what it is.
Next we have the Haibike Electric Road Bike. Not electric commuter bike, or cargo bike, or even mountain bike. The electric road bike -- as in racer. Can't be used for racing, obviously (Fabian Cancellara jokes aside). "Everyone is successful with this kind of bicycle," says the spokeswoman. Is that justification for this thing's existence not enough? When pressed for an answer as to who needs this bike, she says, "If you're a wife and you want to do a sport with a man" (and you have a spare 6,000 euros kicking around) then this is the bike for you. Awesome.


Then there is the Softwheel suspension wheelset -- with the suspension actually built into the wheel instead of the frame. Now anybody can retrofit suspension onto any bike. I've never been convinced that suspension was necessary for most bikes, excepting perhaps hard-core mountain bikes (mountain bikes actually ridden in extreme off-road conditions, that is -- not the majority that spend most of their time on pavement and bike paths). So, there are at least 6 linkages per wheel, plus the compression tubes themselves (springs? elastomers? what's in those things?), which means lots of stuff to wear out. How much does this thing weigh, I wonder. How does a wheel like that do on lateral loads? I don't expect to see this one catching on.


Another suspension idea came in the form of this leading link suspension fork from Lauf Forks: carbon fiber forks with glass fiber springs. The creator was involved in the prosthetic industry, making carbon and glass fiber "feet" (perhaps similar to those prosthetic running blades used by Oscar Pistorius?). Leading link suspension is nothing new, having been used on some motorcycles for decades (notably on older BMWs), and even some bicycles. But the glass fiber springs are a different approach. Looks pretty fragile to me, though, so I don't really see the benefit.

For those who want their nighttime bike rides to resemble a night at the disco, there is the Monkey Light LED wheel system. Programmable to display all kinds of images and messages -- even animations -- this thing consists of a battery pack and a band of LED lights that one attaches to the spokes of the wheel. Be safe AND send a message! Also seen on Kickstarter last year where it met its fundraising goal. I wonder if drivers would become so mesmerized or entranced trying to decipher the messages flashing on a cyclist's wheels that they'd end up plowing right into him? 

From the very beginning, bicycles have garnered the attention of tinkerers and inventors -- for better or for worse. Yet despite that, bikes still haven't changed dramatically over the decades. "Innovations" for bicycles keep on coming, but genuine "improvements" are hard to come by. Enjoy the video.

America's Tour: The Coors Classic

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Years before many Americans knew anything about the sport of bicycle racing, before any Americans had competed in the Tour de France, and before many even knew such a thing existed, the Coors Classic was developing into America's Tour. Starting life as the Red Zinger Classic in 1975, the race changed names and sponsors and grew in size and prestige until the final Coors Classic was run in 1988.

The inaugural year artwork.
(From StoryArts Media.)
Looking back on it, the founding of such a race seems entirely improbable. Mo Siegel, one of the founders of the Celestial Seasonings tea company in Boulder, Colorado, by chance saw a small bicycle race near the University of Colorado that must have absolutely entranced him because he quickly set to work organizing a race that would promote his growing tea company. Named after their spicy Red Zinger tea, the inaugural 1975 race was just two days long and was won by American racing legend John Howard, who was a dominant force in this country's nascent racing scene -- 3-time Olympian, 4-time National Champion, later an Ironman Triathlon World Champion, and holder of a human-powered land speed record.

By 1979, the Red Zinger had grown to eight days, and expanded into other Colorado cities such as Vail and Aspen. After the '79 race, the event was sold to promoter/race director Michael Aisner -- reportedly for just $1! Aisner managed to get Colorado brewing giant Coors to sign on as the title sponsor, and the Coors Classic was born. Jonathan "Jacques" Boyer won that first Coors edition, a year before becoming the first American to compete in the Tour de France. Celestial Seasonings would continue to support bicycle racing in other ways over the years, such as team sponsorships.

Racing against the Rockies as a backdrop: Andy Hampsten,
Doug Shapiro, Jeff Pierce, and Alexi Grewal
(from the Coors Classic Official Magazine)
Under Aisner's leadership, the Coors Classic continued to expand in its importance and scope, adding stages in California, Nevada, Wyoming, and even Hawaii. During that time, it also grew to more than two weeks of racing, becoming the fourth-largest bicycle race in the world, after the Tour de France, Giro d'Italia, and Vuelta a España. In the earlier years, much of the racing emphasis was on criteriums -- short, fast races with multiple laps around a tight circuit -- at the time, probably the predominant type of racing in the U.S. Because of the compact nature of the race courses, criteriums were ideal for spectators, and more spectators were good for the sponsors. Over the years, the race became more "European" in its style, with greater focus on longer road courses, especially over the rugged and beautiful mountain passes of the Rockies and Sierra Nevadas, but the criterium circuits were still a big and popular part of the racing spectacle.

Chris Carmichael climbing "The Wall" of Morgul-Bismark
on his way to a stage win in '84. The picture was used
in ads for Specialized, which provided race support.
One of the more famous road stages passed through the Colorado National Monument and was evocatively named the "Tour of the Moon" for its dramatic landscape. It necessitated closing a U.S. national park, which was the first time that had been done for a sporting event (park service policy changes since then make it unlikely to happen again, at least on the same scale as the Coors Classic). The Morgul-Bismark circuit was another storied stage that routinely ended with a sprint up a 12% grade known as "The Wall." Some notable stages in California (beginning in 1985) included a time-trial hill climb up to San Francisco's famous Coit Tower, and a criterium on Fisherman's Wharf -- featuring a hairpin turn on Pier 45 that was so tight and so close to the water that it was amazing nobody ended up taking a plunge into the bay.

Racing the Coors Classic could sometimes be unpredictable. In the 1987 event, which featured stages in Hawaii, one of the routes had to be changed just weeks before the race because of a road closure due to lava flow. I'm pretty sure that never happened in the Tour de France.

Highlighting the unpredictability of stage racing in the U.S.,
this bunch of horses broke loose through their fences and started
running among the racers in the '82 Coors Classic.
(from Bicycling, Nov/Dec. 1982)
Connie Carpenter and Greg LeMond share the winners podium in 1981.
(from the Boulder Daily Camera)
Doug Shapiro of the 7-Eleven team powers on to win the '84 edition.
(from the Coors Classic Official Magazine)
In the '85 edition, Andy Hampsten of the Levi's team kept the pressure
on eventual winner Greg LeMond. Hampsten's performance was so
impressive that year, he would be invited to join LeMond and Bernard
Hinault on the La Vie Claire team in '86. (from Bicycling, Dec. '85)
Raúl Alcalá took the victory in the 1987 race -- the first
(and last) to visit the state of Hawaii. (from Cyclist, Feb. 1988)
Although primarily a showcase for American racing talent, Aisner worked to make the Coors Classic an international racing event, inviting professional and amateur teams from all over -- most notably the East German and Russian National Teams. Just a year after the U.S. boycott of the 1980 Moscow Olympics, American racer Greg LeMond (who was part of that Olympic team) got his chance to race against the Russians at the Coors, and won. LeMond would go on to win again in 1985, the same year he was denied a victory in the Tour de France by his teammate Bernard Hinault. The following year, Hinault would win the Coors himself -- his last win before retiring from the sport in 1986.

Grewal showboats his
way across the finish
at Morgul-Bismark, '83
Like any good racing event, the Coors featured plenty of drama and some good rivalries. One such ongoing rivalry was that between 1984 Olympic gold medalist Alexi Grewal and his adversaries (and once teammates) on the 7-Eleven team. The temperamental Grewal was often a foil to the powerful 7-Elevens, and though he never actually won the Coors overall, he sometimes seemed to be riding as much to prevent them from winning as he was trying to win himself. Grewal could be unpredictable, but that just fit with the nature of the race. In 1983, after riding for a solo win in the Morgul-Bismark stage, he famously jumped off his bike just short of the finish line and danced across the line with his bike held high in the air. Some people loved him. Others couldn't stand him.

Connie Carpenter says goodbye to fans
after her last Coors Classic stage win before
going on to take gold in the '84 Olympics.
(from the Coors Classic Official Magazine)
The most decorated racer in the history of the race was 7-Eleven's sprinting star Davis Phinney. Winner of numerous Coors stages, he won the points classification every year from 1981 through 1987. He was the overall champion in the race's final year, 1988. It seemed fitting.

Another thing worth mentioning about the Coors was that it was one of the premier events for women's bicycle racing, and in that regard it has not truly been eclipsed even through today. Though generally shorter and with fewer stages than the men's race, the women's race was held every year except 1976. Olympic gold medalist Connie Carpenter was a three-time champion ('77, '81 and '82). French racing powerhouse, Jeannie Longo, also won the women's race three times ('85 - '87). The success of the women's Coors Classic was the inspiration for the Tour de France Féminin (later called the Grand Boucle Féminin, now defunct.)

At the peak of the race's popularity, it was featured in the 1985 film American Flyers, starring Kevin Costner and written by Steve Tesich who had won an Oscar for his screenplay in Breaking Away. Although the race in the movie was renamed "The Hell of the West," and was only three days, much of the racing footage was shot on location at the Coors Classic -- particularly the Morgul-Bismark and "Tour of the Moon" stages. Great film? Well, no, not really. I enjoyed it, but I also recognize its weaknesses. I'll write about American Flyers in detail some time in a future post.

The most decorated racer in Coors
Classic history - Davis Phinney at last
took the overall title in the final
1988 race. (photo from Diane Huntress)
Unfortunately, the Coors Classic began to lose a bit of its lustre in the last couple of editions. In 1987, the year the race traveled to Hawaii, getting the race into and out of the island state turned out to be a logistical headache which got the red ink flowing. Worse still, race scheduling conflicts and a perceived lack of big prize money kept a lot of the European teams and competitors away. Mexican racer Raúl Alcalá, with the 7-Eleven team, won that 1987 race against a diminished field of only 10 teams. The 1988 edition would turn out to be the last, as the Coors Brewing Company decided not to renew their sponsorship deal. Nobody else was willing to step in to fill the void for a race that was so indelibly linked with Coors that fans would probably call it the Coors Classic regardless of who the title sponsor was. Davis Phinney's hard earned victory that year made the departure bittersweet.

With the loss of the Coors Classic, attention was turned to a new stage race in 1989, sponsored by self-promoting real-estate mogul Donald Trump. Unlike the Coors Classic, the Tour de Trump (classy name, right?) was held up and down the Eastern Mid-Atlantic states and consisted of 10 stages in its first year, and 13 in 1990. That race would change sponsorship and be re-named the Tour DuPont from 1991 through 1996. The closest thing we have to the Coors Classic today is the USA Pro Cycling Challenge, which started in 2011. The USA Pro Cycling Challenge races over some of the same territory once covered by the Coors, so comparisons are inevitable. It seems to me that it may have potential to grow, but for the time being it is a smaller scale event than the Coors Classic was at its peak.

In the 14 years that encompassed the Red Zinger/Coors Classic, the race became in the minds of many people the USA's unofficial national tour. The race was a showcase for a lot of rising American racing talent, a fostering hand in developing this country's bicycling "scene," and a big step in showing the world that American's could compete with the best cyclists in the world.
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