I thought I was doing great this year. I got so many bikes done during the winter that I kinda slacked off. The problem is, things kept coming in. Good things too, like old Masi’s, some pretty Raleigh 3-speeds and a ton of older mt. bikes. With only 5 days left I’m now way behind. Better put on my rally cap and get down to business.
Here are a few of my Top-Ten favorite bike models that College Cyclery carried during my 11-year tenure there. The mink blue Raleigh Professional- the first bike I ever pined for at the shop; Fuji Touring III’s, IV’s, V’s- those bikes were beautifully made and very well equipped. ..And then there were the 1985-1987 Fisher Montares. They were just, well, pretty.
Of course they were also nicely made and were sturdy, durable and dependable beyond all measure, but I was sold before I ever even rode one. Unfortunately, I could afford a $750 mt. bike about as much as I could swing a Porsche 911 back then so I was left selling them to other lucky people. Scott Clarke, one of the mechanics, had a green one, the lucky dog. The red Montares were ok, but I was over the moon for the green ones.
While pile hunting at the Reno Bike Project recently I ran across this 1986 Montare, the ultra-neato version with the rear cam brake. It was in rough shape, enough so that it had been donated, but of course I couldn’t see that at the time. All I saw was GREEN Montare. Needless to say, when it comes to old bikes I tend to miss the forest for the trees.
Back at home I discovered what I’d really gotten myself into; beyond regular wear and tear the bike had significant rust, mainly on the components, but pretty much everywhere. Even the sealed b.b bearings were rusted to the point where the cranks were frozen. The seat tube had a Pinole, Ca. shop sticker, so my detective brain told me the bike had indeed lived near (possibly in) the Pacific ocean.
Knowing when to quit is a sign of intelligence, but I convinced myself that knowing when to quit and then pushing forward is the truest form of dedication. More likely, it’s a sign of a obsessive-compulsive disorder, but that ship sailed many years ago. Far, far away.
So, here it is, rust be damned. It actually does ride really well and those new bottom bracket bearings are butter. Butter, I tell you!
Yeah, I don’t know what it is, but it’s big. At 65cm, it fits someone that has to be at least 6’2″ or 6’3″. At 5’10” I can’t begin to get a leg over it.
At first glance it looks European, possibly a Raleigh. It has a British-type fork with the little bowls on the ends of the crown. The seat stays also clamp at the seat binder, so overall, Raleigh looking.
Many bikes made in the Orient have some of the same characteristics of English-made ones though, so it could also be Chinese made. I don’t see any marking on the hubs, nor any Chinese lettering anywhere, but I’m not ruling anything out.
Things gets more confusing as it has some American parts, as well. There’s a Wilburn decal on the seat tube, but that looks to be the name of the shop where it was either sold or serviced. The bike has 28″ rims with Wards Riverside single-tube tires, Torrington pedals, and a Delta Rolite generator and light, all American made. The pedals and the light could have been added, but those 28″ wheels and Monkey Wards tires look original to the bike. They befuddle me. I’m perfectly befuddled.
The bike previously belonged to Robert Edwin Worley, physics professor emeritus at UNR. “Sammy Schwinn”, as it was named, was the mate to “Suzy Schwinn”, Ed’s wife’s bike. Though Suzy may indeed have been a Schwinn, it’s pretty clear Sammy isn’t. Nevertheless, the erroneous surname can be forgiven since the word “Schwinn” was pretty much synonymous with “bicycle” back in the day.
Ed’s son David and daughter Kathleen generously donated the bike to our little museum in December. While getting some background on the bike and Ed himself, I mentioned that he must have been a rather tall man, but David noted that his father was only 5’8″. Amazingly, he regularly commuted on “Sammy”. If not a tall man, Ed was certainly a brave one.
This Bertin was supposedly owned by a California bike shop owner’s wife. Based on its overall condition it looks like it was only modestly used, but very well cared for. The bike is nearly 100% original with the tires being the only update I can see.
How’s it ride? Well, from my short time spent on it, I’d say just about typical for a lower-to-mid range 1970’s bike. I don’t feel a lot of difference between the Bertin and, say, a Peugeot UO-8; that is, with the exception of the rims. Where most 70’s bikes ran soft, heavy steel hoops, the Bertin has wonderful aluminum Milremo rims. It might seem a small upgrade, but the wheels do feel stiffer and braking is much more “grippy” (see, “much less scary”). …And though the rim sides still have perforations, they don’t have the jet engine scream of textured steel rims. The Milremos sound more like a modern business jet as opposed to a Century-series fighter.
If my research is correct, this Bertin is a model C31. Hopefully someone will chime in if that’s not right. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been wrong, nor the one-thousandths, nor the millionth…
(Thanks to the gang at the Reno Bike Project for providing both parts and some really special bikes over the years.)
This DS was commissioned by its original owner in 2002 and found its way here in 2014 where it joined the semi-official Della Santa museum. I say “semi-official” because Roland doesn’t have much use for bikes that just sit around. He builds them to be ridden and scoffs at bikes that are mere garage queens. You can thus imagine how he feels about a gaggle of them.
He also doesn’t consider his bikes art in any sense and tends to go off on people who nerd out over his framebuilding. You know, people like me. Knowing him for 34 years and living within a mile of each other, he’s had many opportunities to make his opinion clear, but that doesn’t make me like him or his bikes any less. Probably more, in fact. Thus, the semi-official museum that exists without his blessing.
…And now that this particular bike is out and sitting here with me, maybe I’ll honor him by taking it out for a ride this afternoon. It’ll no-doubt be like riding rolling art, after all.
Mt. bikes seem to have been given short shrift here on the ol’ Buzz Bomb site. Nearly 9 years and 82 posts and I’ve never mentioned anything about any number of mt. bikes around here. Today it ends with a post about a more recent arrival.
While visiting thedropoutbikeshop.com about 8 months ago Chad had pointed out a Univega mt. bike that had been traded it. It had been updated with a few modern parts while also being “uglied” by its previous owner. The worst sin were a pair of Scott AT-4 mt. bike handlebars. I hated those things in the day and they’d never grown on me. I know form follows function, but honestly, those bars were too ugly to be useful. Because the bike was still pretty clean and also because I couldn’t stand to see it soldier on with those awful bars I decided I was going to buy it up.
I don’t recall having a flood of memories when I first laid eyes on it, but since then it’s caused me to reflect back on my Univega days at College Cyclery. By 1989 we were selling lots of Fishers and thus high-end Univegas were understandably taking a back seat. With so many beautiful Hoo Koo e Koos and ProCalibers in the shop, I don’t think we even stocked Alpina Teams by 1989. Looking at one nearly 30 years later I’m thinking the Alpina Team was a really nice bike for its day, though. It was light, using double-butted Prestige mt. bike tubing, the bike was relatively quick with its trendy straight fork, and finally, it was well appointed with Deore XT throughout. It also cost less than a similarly equipped Fisher.
Sure, the speckled paint job wasn’t the most attractive and today makes the bike look really dated, but even Fisher hadn’t been immune to the look, splatter-painting their Hoo Koo e Koos. I guess I fell for it twice because there’s one of each here.
I keep thinking I’ll take the Alpina Team out into the Sierra mountains just to the west of here. It might be fun to spend some time on a rigid mt. bike for the first time in many years. Then again, I’ve never been great at trail riding and the only thing that’s increased is my waistline. Sad as it sounds, this might be one of those times when nostalgia is better left in the shop.
This poor old Sterling showed up at the Reno Bike Project a couple months back. Raymond Eliot was nice enough to call me to come get it before, well, I’m not sure what would have happened to it. Probably nothing good. (Thanks, Ray!)
As you can see, a fair amount is missing or is wrong; I’d need to hunt down wheels and grips (the existing are incorrect). I’d need tires, saddle, seat post, grips, chain, pedals, parking stand, parking stand clip, rear reflector, some missing bearings, spacers, etc… Also, an original chainguard in matching blue and white with the right amount of patina, the hardest part by far.
I was thinking I’d pass it on to someone who’d be willing to find all the missing parts and put it back together all original-like, but then again, uhhh, isn’t that what I’m supposed to be able to do?
Damn. I guess I’m now working on an old Sterling.