The sum total of knowledge I possess of pedicabs could easily fit on the head of a pin. I’ve ridden in a couple, mainly along the waterfront in San Francisco. I’ve never pedals one, and being more than a little agoraphobic, have never laid eyes on one outside the U.S.
It looks like I’ll be getting a crash course in them, as 4 are now here. Three are marked “White Horse” and are supposedly from Thailand. The last is a Neelam made in India. None are assembled so that’s where my education will begin. Along with the larger frame pieces are buckets and boxes and plastic tubs of smaller bits, many of which little resemble bike parts. Who knows, maybe I got the makings of some pedicabs filled in with old swing set parts. Side note: When I was in my twenties I actually harbored visions of collecting swing sets.
Obviously this will be continuing story so check back if you’d like to see how this all goes.
Thanks to Robbie for hooking me up with his fine pedicabs. I’ll post the story of how he ended up with them in one of my updates.
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.
Here’s a new arrival, a one-owner bicycle purchased by the widow’s husband in the late 1960’s. “My husband rode it maybe three times before he decided he was over it,” she stated, “over it” likely meaning the Gitane specifically, since the couple had a pair of Schauff folding bikes that looked well used.
The Gitane, on the other hand, was fresh as a proverbial daisy. That is, except the foil seat tube decal, which had been squashed in a repair stand at some point. When I asked how the decal could have been mauled she said, “He used to have it tuned every so often, just in case.”
A fairly comprehensive search turned up zero decal replacements; no originals, no remakes. …And then the other night I was sitting, watching the scrub jays badger Marmalade, our large tabby when it occurred to me that I might have a few lying around myself. A concerted hunt in the official repair area/cramped half basement and lo and behold, I discovered not only a few various Gitane decals, but indeed a whole shoebox full (I need to get better organized). In the mass was a shiny new seat tube decal, all sassy and red.
So, you might be thinking I titled this write-up because the bike is now so fresh it looks like it came out of a time machine. A little perhaps, but the real impetus was the decal I noticed on its drive-side chainstay, “email luxe polymerise”. Email? Really?
A quick translation turned up “polymerized luxury email” which is obvious nonsense. A little further down the rabbit hole I found a bicycle forum that stated the term referred to the type of paint used. There were also other funny posts about similar Gitanes having the same strange decal.
In the end, I guess I’ll have to believe the paint story for many obvious reasons, not the least of which is, if these bikes had traveled to the future you’d think they would have benefited from it somehow. If anything, 1960’s/70’s French bikes with their heavy tubing, cottered cranks and onerous components were a step backward.
I’m usually not very excited when the average 1970’s French bike rolls in the door. Plastic Simplex components, heavy frames, hard plastic saddles, narrow steel bars… And French threading. Yechh.
This Mercier caught my attention though, not because it was any great shakes quality-wise, but Lord, those decals. It was also pretty much new and very intact, but that alone wouldn’t have been enough. A couple of pretty Peugeots and a fine little Gitane Tourister came in about the same time and none of them joined the ranks of the Buzz Bomb collection. Lord, those decals.
Fellow Reno Rambler Jake Barrett had this frame hanging around his garage/shop for years. At one point he’d updated it, making it a townie bike of sorts. When I first saw it the bike was back to a frameset, more or less. Thankfully, Jake knew to keep the original parts around. After hinting and making pleading faces for half a year he graciously agreed to part with it.
One of my favorite parts of the bike (besides the paint color and the aluminum seat bag, of course) is the drivetrain. I can’t recall seeing very many early 60’s road bikes with triple chainrings. Rear derailleurs had a hard time managing 10 speed back then, so 15 was quite a stretch for short-cage derailleurs. Nevertheless, count ’em up and you’ll notice the Frejus has three steel rings up front. It must be pointed out that the Campagnolo Sportsman rear derailleur tries valiantly, but even so, it can barely throw around all that chain. At best I’d consider this bike a 13 speed, as the small-to-small and large-to-large ring/cog combinations are pretty much out of the question.
This early DS was built in 1976, the first “official” year of Roland’s business. He notes that he’d built a few framesets as early as 1971, but considers 1976 the year he took on framebuilding as an occupation.
The thick “disco” decals were only used for only a few years before Roland switched over to the design which he uses to this day. There aren’t very made of these early frames out there so we’re honored to be able to have one in the collection.
Thank you to Jeff Ross for graciously selling us the bicycle.