Fellow fans of the
Little Rascals (of which there are probably far
more readers of my blog than poetry experts) will get my title reference and
recall Alfalfa’s pants exploding with fireworks (it’s that time of year, after
all) as he attempted to recite Tennyson’s “The Charge of the Light Brigade” in
front of his classmates:
Half a league, half a league, half a league onward, all in the valley of
Death rode the six hundred.
No, I do not have that
many bicycles!
These days one of
my favorite shows is American Pickers – in fact, I was inspired to start one of
my first bicycle projects (click here to view) by an episode where
Antique Archeology owner Mike Wolfe pulls an old Motobécane bicycle from someone’s
pile of junk. I always feel a bit of pride when Mike refers to himself as a bicycle
guy, but I’ve also heard him say, “I’m a motorcycle guy” or Volkswagen guy, and
once a even a hotdog guy! Generally he just fills that first slot in the phrase
with the item at which he is currently looking.
I suppose someone
could accuse me of doing the same when it comes to bicycles – I’m a Colnago guy
or Pinarello guy, or maybe it’s just that I’m an Italian cycling guy. However, when it really comes downs to it, I
am a Cannondale guy at heart! I devoted a previous blog entry to my past bikes
(click here) and should say I grew up on a Kia or Ross bicycle, but my
formative years as a “true cyclist” were on a blue 1989 Cannondale ST400 that I
kept in pristine condition for 20 years. That bicycle was unfortunately wrecked
in a 2008 collision with an automobile.
My wife had been
riding a yellow (with orange accents – the company called the color scheme tangelo) 2003 Cannondale R600 Triple for
a couple of years, while I tried out a few different other makes. I finally
decided to get back to my “roots” and purchased a 2002 R700 Si, in the colors of the great Italian Saeco/Cannondale team.
I regularly browse eBay and craigslist for
great deals on bicycles, particularly if they are valuable and/or collectible
models. I’ve always been intrigued by Cannondale’s “Black Lightning” bicycles
that the company produced in the late 1980s to early ‘90s. The bikes were, of
course, painted black and featured gold decals and highlights, but the clincher (pun)
was that all of the components were black. The parts weren’t of any elite
quality, but they sure looked sleek.
Someone pointed out in an online forum that
it really was a mid-level bicycle dressed up in black, but at that time period the
Black Lightning was still as good as, or better, than most of the bikes churned
out by other companies! The real value in this bicycle is when you can find one
with all of the original parts, since most owners swapped out preferred
components or upgraded them as time went on.
A craigslist-er in New Jersey was selling one
of these bikes with all the original parts for a very reasonable price, and I
picked it up on the way back from the shore last weekend. It had very few
blemishes (black touches up easily!), in fact the worse thing about it was that
it had been stored near a shop table in the garage and had a thick coating of grimy sawdust on
it.
I had actually cleaned it up for the
“before” photo above, since it rained for a couple of days, and I couldn’t
resist getting to work on it. The tires and bar tape were in a sorry state, so
I removed them and ordered a pair of classic gum walls and some black tape with
that perforated leather look. I’ll take more detail photos next week when the
finishing touches arrive, but I think the Cannondale looks pretty fantastic
already!
I like it so much that I don’t want to sell
it – since it is only a 7 speed setup with 53/39t chainrings, I think it will
be a great shore bike. I can leave it hanging up in the garage down there and
not need to transport one of my bikes every time my family visits. The lack of
required shifting over the flat terrain will also keep my out-of-practice hands
from fumbling too much with the downtube shift levers.
In other news, the
repainted/built-up Pinarello Treviso finally has a new home, as part of a
cash and trade deal. I was reluctant to take on one more bike, but in this case
it was another Pinarello, and the buyer was a really nice guy who seemed very
enthusiastic about my work – sometimes that becomes the deciding factor for me!
As it turns out, the subsequent interest and discussion about this mysterious
bicycle has almost made the deal worthwhile.
The “swapper” had
the impression that the bicycle was a Treviso, based on the decals, but as I
later pointed out, all of Pinarello’s products had this name on the bikes,
since that is the Italian city in which they are manufactured. I mentioned to
him in a later email that at the time of the exchange I noticed plenty of
similarities between a Treviso model and the bike he gave me, so I had no
reason to doubt what he had told me.
After much research I found that this bike is actually a Gran Turismo, but I wouldn’t say
that fact would have been a deal-breaker anyway – most Pinarellos are quality
machines and very collectible. My decision about the transaction was strongly
influenced by a listing provided prior to our meeting of the desirable (and
somewhat eclectic) components included on the bicycle.
I was intrigued by
the slight upward curve of the top tube of the handlebars and found these were
common to “randonneur” or cyclo-tourist bicycles. I also noticed the brake
levers had bolts for attaching the extension lever for application of the
brakes when riding on the tops of the bars. I then found that the front and
rear dropouts on the bicycle had eyelets that I thought were for mounting
panniers (baggage racks).
When I first solicited
help to find more information on the Pinarello, the opinion of many folks from
online cycling forums is that the eyelets on this frame were for attaching
fenders. A couple members confirmed that they owned or had seen eyelets on
vintage Pinarello bicycles, but at first no one was specific about which model it
may have been. Another person suggested that the bicycle was a repaint and the
eyelets could have been a custom add-on when the bike was stripped.
Europeans traditionally preferred the utilitarian
bicycle with various frame mounts and the use of fenders/racks, and Americans
during the '80s fitness cycling craze really influenced manufacturers in
eliminating such features as a weight-saving measure. Until the recent
fixie/urban movement and (finally) a push for bicycles as an alternative mode
of transportation, the selection of road bikes available here in the States has
been dominated by the lightweight, racing bicycle variety.
I would very much like for someone to say, “Ooooh,
I really want that bike” and offer to take it in the current condition, saving
me from having to sink money into another major restoration project. I might
also be able to just upgrade the parts (or at least match them) enough to make it more attractive for purchase. Maybe, now with a little more information about the Pinarello’s identity, I will be able
to properly gauge the interest in such a bike and decide how much work I want
to put into it.
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