When I was 13 years old my parents took me to Carson City to buy my first road bike. The bike shop we went to, the only one within 40 miles, was a Nishiki dealer. After perusing the lineup I settled on a Nishiki Sport, a decent enough bike. Lots of my friends either rode hand-me-downs or department store junk – for example, Fluff’s parents bought her a Coast King – so I considered myself lucky, sort of. Was the bike suited to my riding aptitude and ability? You bet. Was it what I actually wanted? No way. I wanted an International.
First off, the name. My Lord, what could one do with a bicycle so worldly? If the Sport was the town constable, the International was James Bond. I had no real idea what made the International so, you know, international, but I knew there had to be a big difference. Maybe it came with a martini shaker.
As far as curb appeal went, they both came in a rich burgundy color, but that was were the similarities ended. My Sport was spec’ed with a host of chrome-plated steel parts. You know, steel; what they make cars and battleships with? The International was outfitted with aluminum components, all matte finished and purposeful looking as hell.
The International also weighed nothing comparatively. Not that I was allowed to heft it, mind you. 13 year old boys were not permitted to pull Excalibur from the stone. I only knew it to be nearly weightless because the catalog said so. If not properly ballasted with a water bottle and CyclePro handlebar bag, well, the thing might just up and float away.
My Sport never left the ground except for maybe once or twice when I imprudently jumped a curb with it (I quickly learned it wasn’t a BMX bike). Also, the time I crashed riding down Muller Lane after a long day pulling weeds at the Jubilee Ranch. I lost concentration for a moment and down I went. It was a magnificent pile-in of the first order and I shudder to think what would have happened If I’d actually been on an International that day. The Sport, on the other hand, took the tremendous crash with aplomb. That day its battleship components did right by me.
The Sport stayed with me throughout my middle and high school years with nary an issue. I rode it in the snow, I rode it through the 4″ of water that the town irrigated Minden Park with every week, and I rode it up and down Kingsbury Grade countless times. It would shake and shudder a bit above 40 mph, but it never hinted at pitching me into a guardrail and it always stopped at the bottom.
My parents eventually bought me a fancier bike for my high school graduation. I settled on a Nishiki Olympic 12 after discovering I’d have to wait an extra 2 months for an International. The Olympic was a great bike, but I always wished I’d had enough patience to wait for Excalibur.
The pictured International recently turned up on ebay, and for under $175 shipped I decided I’d waited long enough. The bike had seen some coastal living with rust apparent on some of its steel parts (yes, even the International had a few ferrous pieces). The frame, however, was rust free and the bike was pretty much original so it seemed as good a place to start as any.
I’ll try to post more photos of the bike after I start refurbishing it.
Bahh! I couldn’t stand it! The frame was just too chunked up for my liking so the Gios is going out for paint.
I currently have no idea how to pay for it, but the good Lord watches over children and the simple minded.
I’ve always wanted a Gios, I think because of the beautiful blue paint. If it’s not called Gios Blue it should. I also have a thing for the coins in the fork crown, a Gios-specific touch.
I got a least part of my wish when this early 1980’s Gios showed up last week. It was blue, but no coins, as this Gios had the sloping fork crown. No matter. I’m wasn’t gonna be picky.
It’s previous owner obviously rode and loved the bike for years, so much so that it was pretty used up. The Gios had a combination of worn original parts, worn replaced parts, and finally, positively dead parts. The Silca pump had cracking into three separate pieces- dead; The rims were a mismatched set of Ambrosio and Mavic- both dead. The brake levers had been replaced and then worn out- wrong and dead. In other words, a great, though rather large project. I couldn’t be more excited. Who cares that it’s going to eat up $500 in parts and untold hours in the shop stand.
As far as the paint goes, we’ll see how Fluff responds to a potential refresh. I don’t remember having perpetrated any major acts of insurrection lately; I might be able to talk my decidedly better (and less compulsive) half into a Jim Allen paint job. If not, the bike will get a refurbishment rather than a restoration, meaning that I’ll replace the non-original parts and give it a good solid cleaning and overhaul, just no new shiny Gios Blue.
Here it is, all shined up and ready to ride. The Brooks saddle is now dyed a shiny black, new Carlton decals have been installed and the bars have been re-wrapped with original white plastic tape. The bike rides well enough, though the handlebars are a bit narrow for long rides. Still, a pretty bike that was definitely worth the time.
This nice old Carlton showed up last week. Already pretty clean, the “Before and After” transition won’t be as dramatic as some, but that’s not to say it’s ready to go. It’s missing tires and most of its decals, the grease in the bearings is petrified, and the original Brooks B15 saddle has lost most of its color and suppleness. In other words, it’ll still be in the work stand for 8-10 hours.
Based on workflow I’m guessing it won’t be ready for it’s “After” shots for about a month. If you like Carltons it should be worth checking back, though.