Legendary Builders, Little-known Stories - the Finale

   Again, a project update before getting to the title subject. I visited my brother-in-law Jay earlier this week, and we spent a little time in his shop, checking out some techniques to improve the shine on the Wilier frame. He first showed me one of his motorcycles and pointed to some parts that he had spent a lot of time on, polishing up to a nice finish, but he had not been careful to wipe it down consistently, and the metal has pretty much reverted to the original state from moisture. Lesson learned by us both!
   Jay asked where a good "test spot" on the frame would be, and the bottom of the top tube immediately came to mind. This area was in bad condition, and it wouldn't be as noticeable if something went wrong.
   He used a combination of 400 grit sandpaper, then 2000 grit, making sure to change the rubbing direction 90 degrees when switching papers, in order to remove the scratches from the previous step. Next we used a power drill with buffing wheel and the reddish brown rubbing compound.
   The 3-4 square inch area looked really good, and Jay put a little Mothers polish on to complete the shine. I think the frame is going to be spectacular when finished, but is going take some effort. We entertained the idea of saving myself the work by showing a prospective buyer "the spot" as a preview of what can be done, and then sell it to him as-is!

   I also had a customer drop off a used tandem bicycle - kind of a mountain bike-style machine. He recently purchased the bike, and it was in real need of a tune-up. I still don't like GripShift, and the adjustments involved were complicated by the long cable lengths that don't respond as quickly. The rest of the work was fairly standard, except for some very out-of-true wheels that rubbed on the brakes pretty hard.
   What I really wanted to mention about the job was that the fella removed the seatposts and saddles to fit the bicycle more easily in his vehicle, and he left the parts at home. I had nothing onto which I could mount the bike into my wall clamp! I was forced to rig this "fancy" suspension system of rope to hooks in my rafters, so that I could spin the gears and check for smooth operation:

   Reynolds, known worldwide for its production of top-quality steel bicycle tubing, got its start in 1841 as a manufacturer of nails. When John Reynolds’ son Alfred became interested in bicycles, as did many people in the 1890s, they attempted to solve the problem of joining thin, lightweight tubes without weakening the joints.

   Their proposed solution seemed radical at the time. Externally the tubes produced were the same diameter throughout, but inside the walls were thin in the middle and thicker at the ends, where they needed to be stronger. The “butted” tubes they invented were a major breakthrough for the industry!

   Many people are aware of the collectability of vintage Schwinn bicycles, such as the Phantom, Hornet and Stingray, as well as the Paramount racing bicycles. The company was THE dominant force of the American market for nearly a century! I don’t want this to become an article on Schwinn, so I’ll leave it to you to read about the mismanagement (how do you miss out on the 10-speed “sport-bike”, BMX and mountain bike trends all in a row?!!), anti-trust lawsuit and labor issues that led to the Chicago company moving production overseas, and eventually its bankruptcy.

   Back in the early 20th century, when automobiles and motorcycles prompted a decline in the bicycle industry, Schwinn was one of the few survivors, bought up smaller companies and expanded into motorcycle production. I had no idea that by 1928 Schwinn’s motorcycle division was third in the country, only behind Indian and Harley Davidson!

   Scott is a relative newcomer in the production of road bicycles and mountain bikes but puts out some world-class machines. There is no doubt that the product that started it all was the clip-on Aero Bar, first used to devastating effect by Greg Lemond on the final stage of the 1989 Tour. Company founder Ed Scott was originally a manufacturer of skiing equipment and invented the tapered aluminum ski pole. It is quite understandable that the wind-cheating position, achieved with Scott Aero Bars, was inspired by a downhill skier’s tuck.

   Mario Cipollini’s tremendous effect on the marketing of Cannondale bicycles in the late 1990s is well known, but few realize how important of a role he played, pretty much doing the same thing, for Specialized. The company had made a name for itself with the Stumpjumper, the first mass-produced mountain bike, but was looking for a presence in road racing’s pro peloton.

   In 2000 they signed a deal with the Festina team, but this was really just a shell of the team that had been ejected from the 1998 Tour de France. Although this was probably a good thing in retrospect, the squad lacked any star power, certainly nothing like that enjoyed at the time by Trek (Lance Armstrong) and Giant (Laurent Jalabert).

   The company signed a groundbreaking contract with the Aqua e Sapone team, who had a small budget, but managed to sign Cipollini. The year proved to be the pinnacle of the flamboyant Italian’s career, as he went on to win Milan-San Remo and the World Championship Road Race in Zolder, Belgium, both aboard an S-Works E5 frame. Specialized owner Mike Sinyard certainly appreciated the profile boost provided by Cipollini but also noted the important feedback given by the sprinting legend during the bicycle’s development.

   I realized, even before starting to read the segment on Trek bicycles, that most of the company’s success would be tainted by the performance-enhanced successes of Lance Armstrong and Alberto Contador, most of which has since been stricken from the record books. Of course not everything Lance did was a bad thing, as he had raised a lot of money for cancer research.

   During his 2009 comeback year from semi-retirement, the Texan handpicked seven artists to each decorate one of his road or time trial bikes. At the end of the year the frames were auctioned off at Sotheby’s for a total of $1.25 million for the LiveStrong Foundation.

   Perhaps the most stunning design came from British artist Damien Hirst, who decorated a Madone and its Bontrager aero wheels with real butterfly wings because of the way they shimmered in light. The bicycle drew an enormous amount of interest from fans, and criticism from animal rights groups!

   Early pioneers in the manufacturing of carbon fiber bicycles, TVT (Technique du Verre Tisse, translated as “technology of glass weaving”) made frames ridden to victory by some of cycling’s legends. However, the small company that once sat in the quiet foothills of the French Alps and is no longer in operation, receives very little recognition of its contribution to cycling, as the frames they built were most often badged up as those of other manufacturers.

   The powerful 1986 La Vie Claire team finished with Greg Lemond and Bernard Hinault standing on the top two podium spots in Paris. The bikes they rode were the first carbon fiber frames ridden to Tour de France victory, but because of team sponsorship, the TVT-built products were labeled as bicycles built by Look.

  Witnessing the success of the TVT 92 frameset, several other leading riders made the switch to carbon. Pedro Delgado won the 1989 Tour on a bike that was disguised as a Pinarello, right down to the Columbus tubing decals applied to the seat tube, but was in fact TVT!

   I have written previously about Vitus bicycles, so I won’t repeat myself about the aluminum frames that were lugged and bonded. I will mention that the frames had a reputation for becoming a bit flexy, especially for large, powerful riders. Legendary powerhouse Sean Kelly admits that he had to change bicycles a few times during a season, a process that certainly wasn’t common in that more budget-conscious era.

   I will be taking a couple of weeks off from writing to enjoy the holidays. Have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Legendary Builders, Little-known Stories - Part 2

   First a little project update, as I attempted to polish the unpainted aluminum on the Wilier frameset.

   Initially I rubbed some fine steel wool over the really bad areas to knock off the oxidation, then used Mothers brand aluminum polish. The process involved the use of a Power Cone (photo left), made by the same company, with an electric drill. Each time I started a new side on the individual tubes, I would spread the polish paste on the cone - it reminded me of icing a cake, but nowhere near as appetizing!
   The creamy coating would turn a really dark gray, then I would wipe down the area briskly with a rag. The cone worked effectively to get into all the awkward tubing joints, which, except for the bottom bracket area (moisture probably sat there), turned out more mirror-like when I was finished.
   Below is a before-and-after of the top tube, which still needs some help, followed by a shot of the down tube, which looked pretty spectacular.

 
   My brother-in-law works on motorcycles and has a bit more experience with getting the shine back on aluminum parts, so I am going to pick his brain a bit. I know he has a nice polishing wheel, which sure beats the drill method I had been trying!


   Similar to the practices of Henry Ford before him, Aldo Gios would build his customers a bike in any color they wanted – as long as it was blue. The color is as distinctive to the company as celeste is to Bianchi. However, unlike Bianchi, the reason for Gios’ standard paint is generally agreed upon.

   During the 1970s Gios was to supply the Brooklyn Racing Team (actually sponsored by an Italian chewing gum maker) with bicycles customized to match the same shade of blue as their jerseys. The distinctive garments had an American flag look with red and white vertical stripes around the midsection and royal blue around the top of the chest, back and shoulders. The continued use of the color represents a high mark of craftsmanship and excellence, particularly honoring the successes of the great Roger de Vlaeminck aboard Gios bicycles during that time period.

   The French company Look revolutionized cycling in the 1980s with its introduction of clipless pedals and carbon fiber frames, and having Bernard Hinault and Greg Lemond show off their products didn’t hurt. Up to that point, owner Jean Beyl’s business, named after the U.S. war-era photo magazine, was best known for ski bindings. Beyl realized that a version of the binding could be transferred to cycling, and the metal toe-clip and straps were soon to become a thing of the past – except for the occasional L’eroica bike ride!

   Faliero Masi was known as “The Tailor” because of his reputation for building bicycles that fit their owner as well as any bespoke suit. Many top pros sought out the legendary Italian builder in his workshop below the Vigorelli velodrome in Milan, using his expertise for bicycles that were often later badged up as a team bike of another manufacture.

   His brand got the exposure it deserved in the movie Breaking Away, perhaps the most successful cycling movie ever made. For main character and Italo-phile Dave Stohler, only one bike would do – a bright red Masi Gran Criterium!

   Unknown to his competitors, Antonin Magne won the 1934 Tour de France using revolutionary aluminum rims made by Mavic. Because such rims were illegal at the time, the company had painted a faux-wood finish onto the aluminum to have the rims resemble what the rest of the peloton was using.

   Today, the company has a ubiquitous presence in racing, as its yellow and black elliptical logo can be seen on the wheels of top pros, as well as on the hood and sides of the neutral support vehicles. Mavic, an acronym for Manufacture d’Articles Velocipediques Idoux et Chanel (Charles Idoux and Lucien Chanel were the founders), not only developed the first aluminum rim (in 1934) and first disc wheel (1973), their designs also included the innovative Zap Mavic electronic gear shifter in 1994.

   Giovanni Pinarello was the eighth of twelve brothers, and was a successful amateur cyclist. His pro career had few highlights – perhaps one of the more unfortunate memories was the awarding of the 1951 maglia nero, or black jersey, which was a short-lived award for the last-place finisher of the Giro d’Italia.

   The following season, his Bottecchia team bosses offered him 100,000 lire to surrender his Giro spot to a young up-comer. Giovanni, who had been learning to build bicycles alongside his brother Carlo, wisely took the money to set up his own shop, stocked with his bikes and those of other builders. These were the baby steps for the legendary Pinarello company that has supplied bicycles to more Tour de France winners than any other manufacturer.

   There was a time in British households that the word Raleigh meant bicycle, as much as Hoover meant vacuum or Biro meant pen. Such a situation would seem the ultimate achievement for a manufacturer, but such a circumstance didn’t necessarily serve Raleigh well, especially it the company’s efforts to sell top-end road bikes.

   With a line of children’s models and adult bikes noted for their affordability and reliability, Raleigh had a very family-oriented image. Although during the ‘70s and early ‘80s the company supplied bikes to the immensely successful TI-Raleigh team, other than a few individuals, corporate executives never seemed all that interested in the team they sponsored.

   In fact, when team leader Joop Zoetemelk won the Tour in 1980, becoming the first rider to win on a British bicycle, it was a landmark achievement that few noticed. Raleigh seemed to decide that the British public could not/would not understand the Tour de France, and at the time, they were probably right. Wow, how things have changed with Mark Cavendish, Bradley Wiggins and Team Sky causing a U.K. cycling sensation!

One more "builder" installment to come...

Legendary Builders, Little-known Stories

   A couple of years ago I purchased the book Bike! A Tribute to the World’s Greatest Cycling Designers by Richard Moore and Daniel Benson. I would immediately describe it as a combination coffee table book and reference tome, as it blends beautiful large format photographs with a wealth of historical information about my favorite subject.

   I find myself rereading segments of the book constantly when a story about a certain bike kind of drifts through my memory, and I want to clarify the details of the tale. More recently I browsed through the book to collect interesting bits that I thought would be interesting to share when I don’t have a whole lot to write about. Right now I’m in a bit of a “holding pattern” with my projects, so...

   Many cycling fans know that the leader’s jersey at the Giro d’Italia is pink because the race’s first sponsor, La Gazzetta della Sport, is printed on paper of that color, but few are aware of the role the Atala company played in organizing the event. Bianchi, with the aid of the Corriere della Sera newspaper, was attempting to organize a race that would be the Italian answer to the Tour de France.

   Atala, a much newer and smaller company, took the news to the Gazzetta, and their attempts to beat out their rival paper has become the beautiful national tour it is today. The Atala-sponsored team won a couple team titles in the early years of the event, as officials experimented with the format of the race and there was no individual winner.

   The builder sponsored riders occasionally after World War I, but never again managed another Giro winner. In 1947, Atala supported only a single rider – a man named Giovanni Pinarello, who went on to a bit of bicycle manufacturing fame himself!

   Eduardo Bianchi started his company, the world’s oldest still in operation, in 1885 at the age of twenty-one! As his reputation grew in Italy, Eduardo was summoned to teach Queen Margherita how to ride, after which followed an appointment in 1895 by King Umberto as official supplier to the crown. This honor allowed him to use the royal coat of arms on his bikes, and the distinctive head badge is still in use today.

   Cannondale, a company known globally for cutting edge technology and innovation, takes its name from a tiny, rustic Metro-North railroad station, which was featured in their original logo. The business started in the second floor of a pickle factory in nearby Bethel, Connecticut.

   Although their first bicycle wasn’t rolled out until 1983, the company started back in 1971, producing backpacks, clothing and accessories. A Cannondale-manufactured child trailer called “The Bugger” was not a name that endeared itself to the U.K. market!

   German manufacturer Canyon, which currently supplies both the Movistar and Katusha pro teams, only sells directly through the internet. Ironically, the company was started by a cycling-crazy teen with help from his father, who accumulated high-end components during frequent trips to Italy and sold them from a trailer at races. Roman Arnold’s family business grew to occupy a garage and eventually a shop that became very influential to the German cycling scene.

Movistar team bicycle by Canyon

   Cervélo bicycles was founded by engineering classmates at McGill University in Montreal. Dutchman Gerard Vroomen (could there be a better last name for a bike designer?) and his Canadian partner Phil White used a play on words when naming their company – cervello is Italian for “brain”, and vélo is French for “bike”.

   I’ve written much about Colnago bicycles over the years, but few people know that Ernesto Colnago was initially a mechanic to some of the sport’s biggest names. In fact, his start came during recovery from a broken leg sustained in a bike race, when he built wheels for the Gloria Cycle factory in Milan.

   As news of his skills grew, and he received commissions from the likes of Fausto Coppi, Ernesto started a small shop with the financial backing of his father. His big “break” came when he was introduced to two-time Giro d’Italia winner Fiorenzo Magni, who was suffering a knee problem. Ernesto discovered a misaligned crank, which was found to be the cause of the Italian champion’s problems. Magni was able to recover in time to win a third Giro title, eleven seconds ahead of Coppi!

   By the 1960s Colnago was building his own bicycles, as he worked for riders such as Gianni Motta and the Italian national team. His reputation spread through the pro ranks, and after helping Michele Dancelli end a 17-year drought for Italy at the country’s biggest one-day race, Milan-San Remo, Ernesto began working with the phenomenal Eddy Merckx. The Italian master frame-builder later estimated he built more than 100 bicycles for Merckx alone, while working for the Belgian great’s Molteni team!

   The majority of the world’s most prized vintage steel bicycles are built from Columbus tubing. Although started in 1919, much of the Milanese firm’s reputation grew in the ‘30s from the manufacturing of home and office furniture, in particular seating. Examples of their furniture, made in partnership with avant-garde designers and architects of the period, are stored in a vast warehouse on company premises. The now deteriorating fabrics contrast sharply with beautiful flowing tubing from which they still hang.

   Like many of his fellow builders, Ugo De Rosa was at one time a racer, but while others fell into manufacturing bikes because of setbacks in their cycling careers, he wanted to be a frame-builder from a young age. While studying engineering at technical school, he repaired and assembled bicycles at his uncle’s workshop to develop his understanding of the machines. He founded De Rosa Cycles when he was only eighteen years old!
   His reputation grew as a result of a meeting with French great Raphaël Géminiani, who asked Ugo to build him a bicycle for the upcoming Giro d’Italia. Géminiani rode the bike to eighth place, then followed up with a third place finish at the Tour de France.

   However, De Rosa’s breakout success came when he stepped in as Eddy Merckx’s builder after the Belgian legend had a fallout with Ernesto Colnago. Merckx had just set the hour record aboard a bike labeled “Windsor” (a Mexican company), although it had been built by Colnago. One version of the story was that the labelling was intended to honor his Mexican hosts, but word is that Merckx actually received $10,000 to badge his bike, which understandably infuriated Ernesto Colnago.

   The name "Flandria Cycles" recalls one of the great heartlands of pro cycling, as well as a legendary team that had the likes of Eddy Merckx, Freddie Maertens, Roger de Vlaeminck, Joop Zoetemelk and Sean Kelly all eventually spending time on the roster. Behind the scenes, however, were four Claeys brothers struggling for control over the company.

   One of the brothers decided to retire and another left to form a competing company. The two remaining Claeys divided the business – literally, with a brick wall constructed to separate the workshop into halves. In places where the machinery was too heavy to move, the wall simply split that in two as well!

   The Taiwanese company Giant lives up to its name as the world’s biggest manufacturer, producing five million bicycles a year, from cheap town cruisers to state-of-the art racing machines. Amazingly, the company is a relative newcomer, having been around just over forty years, focusing mainly on the building and badging of bikes for other companies.

   It was the actions of one of their customers, Schwinn, which altered the course of Giant’s history. In the 1970s, the word “Schwinn” meant bicycle almost in the same way Americans say “Kleenex” for a tissue. However, as the decade ended and sales dropped off, the company looked to Giant for a high quality, low cost alternative in production and was able to turn things around.

   Years later when Schwinn switched some of its production to China, folks at Giant were quite angry and retaliated by hiring a former Schwinn marketing executive, putting him in charge of the company. Bill Austin took the company global, shedding the once negative “Made in Taiwan” stereotype by sponsoring pro teams to show the quality of Giant bicycles, starting with mountain bikes then adding an association with the Australian Institute of Sport. His big move was supplying the highly-successful ONCE team that included French legend Laurent Jalabert.

   While Giant was able to show off its innovative compact frameset, now an industry standard, and continues to promote its modern aero racing bikes with today’s Giant-Alpecin team, it seems things have come full circle as a “Schwinn bike” now has a negative stereotype, as the machines are often off-the-shelf, department store products.

Giant-Alpecin team bicycle by Giant

More to come...

Reorganization, Rehab and Revision

   I had mentioned that my intent this offseason is a more relaxed process of doing a little here and there in the shop to bring my projects to completion. Over the Thanksgiving holiday, I was trying to organize my assembly line of parts into a logical order and found the half dozen wheelset I have hanging around, in combination with the various tubes and tires I’ve collected for them, to be a real space hog.

   I spent a couple of afternoons just doing wheel work, with the idea to have them all assembled and ready to go, but out of the way. The sets belonging to the Olmo and Wilier needed major cleaning, particularly the rear wheels, as the hubs and spokes surrounding the freewheels had a coating of hardened, greasy dirt. The rear wheel of the Wilier also required extensive truing work, as its spokes were mangled a bit due to Giovanni’s sub-par shipping practices.

   The fuchsia decals (photo above) on the Rigida rims have bothered me since I got the wheelset from my friend Bill. No way do I want to see that color clashing with the yellow cromovelato that will be applied to the Coppi frame. Below is a sample of the effect we'll be trying to replicate.

   So while I was busy working on assembling the wheels, I peeled the eyesores from the rims and used some mineral spirits to clean off the remaining gummy adhesive. Aaah, much better!

   Four wheetsets, eight tubes and eight tires later, I have a nice chunk of room open once again!

   I’m currently in a bit of a holding pattern with new projects as the Ciöcc is still with Bruce, and when I pick that up, I’ll be handing the Coppi frame off to him. The Coppi originally had a clamp-on bottle cage, and I had no intention of re-attaching one of those contraptions over my future new paintjob! I visited my buddy Peter Dreesens, who neatly drilled and brazed a set of bottle cage mounts on the frame downtube.

   Also on hold is the Olmo, as my touch-up job didn’t turn out as I had hoped. The green paint I was using on the rear stays and adjoining seatpost lug unfortunately became darker as I applied additional coats. I’m going to sand it lightly and try something a shade brighter to match. Unfortunately, now that the temperatures have dropped, I might have to wait a while, since no one in the family really wants to deal with fumes from indoor painting!

   Back to the “old” projects. After discussing the options with Paul, he decided to buy my Veneto frame and pay to have me swap out the Campagnolo Chorus parts for his Shimano 600. There were a few damaged items that needed to be replaced, such as the rusted-in-place bottom bracket and stem, plus his chain and smaller front ring were badly worn.

   We were hoping for better timing, as he was visiting family in NYC for Thanksgiving and could possibly pick up the bike on the way home to D.C., but delivery of the necessary parts was slow. In fact, I was in the back raking leaves late Friday afternoon and noticed the mailman walk by. I checked to find the expected packages, and wouldn’t you know it, Paul was parking out front. He decided to stop by, just to check on my progress.

   He was certainly a welcome visit, but it was going to take more than just a few minutes to put the remaining pieces together, and it was a bit disappointing to send him away empty-handed. I was also hoping to find someone to take his sad Pinarello frame, but Paul had a price in mind at which, sadly, I don’t think he’ll find many takers. It might just end up a nostalgic wall-hanging.

   I put on the finished touches over the weekend, and here is a photo of Paul’s revised Veneto:

   With so much going on, I had intended to let go of the Cipollini Cannondale venture for a while, but a complete bike with an almost identical frameset showed up on craigslist. The real plus was a very nice Ultegra triple groupset, a cool set of red anodized Rolf wheels and a beautiful pairing of 3T stem and handlebars. The price was right to allow me to rebuild the Cipollini at lower dollar amount and still maybe make some bucks re-selling the unused parts.

   The funny thing is that someone from England contacted me over the weekend asking if the Cipollini bicycle was still available, and I laughed to myself as I typed the answer, “Well...sort of.”

Goodbye (ciao, aufwiedersehen, au revior) Fabian

   I am a bit late with this, as his last official “race” was just before Halloween, but I wanted to take the time to bid a very fond farewell to one of my all-time favorite cyclists, Fabian Cancellara, who decided to retire at the end of this season. My title refers to the fact that the charismatic star, born to Italian parents in Wohlen, Switzerland, speaks all four of the languages involved fluently – which astounds me almost as much as his list of victories.

   The photo above, showing Fabian with special team jersey and bike to mark his final ride, was taken at the Tour de France Saitama Criterium, a showcase event in Japan that features the various jersey winners from this year’s Tour. Just as a quick aside, the results of this event are always a bit staged. Somehow Chris Froome (in yellow as G.C. winner), Adam Yates (in white as best young rider), Peter Sagan (World Champion, wearing green as Tour points winner) and Japanese national champ Sho Hatsuyuma got into a breakaway, with Sagan winning the sprint. Well, at least that would be very realistic!

   Back to the main subject, I have written about Cancellara several times in this blog, as the powerful rider has consistently been at the top of his profession. An internet search of his palmarès would prove somewhat mind-boggling, but I’ll provide a brief summary of the highlights:

   Since turning professional at the age of 19 with the Mapei-Quick Step team in 2000, Cancellara has had great success in cycling’s Monuments, winning both the Tour of Flanders and Paris–Roubaix each three times (including TWICE achieving the very difficult “double” of claiming both events in the same season), and Milan–San Remo once. He also won the classics Strade Bianche and E3 Herelbeke each three times. Fabian has won the opening stage of the Tour de France five times and has led the race for 29 days total, which is the most of any rider who has not claimed overall victory. He has won general classification of Tirreno–Adriatico, Tour de Suisse, and the Tour of Oman. In 2008, Cancellara won gold in the individual time trial and silver in the men's road race at the Summer Olympics, and during the games in 2016, he again won gold in the individual time trial. He also has been the time trial world champion four times in his career.

   Below is one of my favorite action photos of Fabian – I just love the composition, with the Swiss champion, who has just made the winning move up the cobbled Muur de Geraardsbergen to win the 2010 Tour of Flanders, and the massive crowd at the top roaring for their “honorary Belgian” hero. 

   Last week I mentioned a Pinarello Veneto repaint job, and it unfortunately has come to an abrupt stop before even starting. The peeling paint and rust issues were not just surface problems, as the bottom bracket and stem are both completely stuck. In fact, when I inserted the bottom bracket tool, the teeth on the inside rim of the cup just crumbled. And I am very familiar with Pinarello fork/stem problems from past experience!

   Without being able to service the bottom bracket and headset, I don't think it would be worth it to sink funds into this project as-is. Painting around the issues wouldn't exactly be ideal anyway, considering the awkward masking it would entail.

   I feel really bad about this situation, and I proposed to Paul trying to cobble something together that would fit his budget by combining his parts with the Veneto I currently have for sale, but we'll see what we can come up with. 

   In the meantime, I dropped off my Ciöcc frame at Bruce's place to have it touched-up, and I have been doing my own bit of (simpler) paintwork on the Olmo's rear triangle. The Wilier also arrived from Italy, in the normal average condition that Giovanni's "finds" always seem to be - nothing that a little work can't improve, though. I definitely plan on purchasing an aluminum polish kit to try to bring up the shine on that frameset.

   It's always at the back of my mind - or maybe more accurately, in front of my face, as it hangs right at the bottom of the basement steps to my shop -  but I have yet to finalize a plan on the Colnago. However, it's kind of nice to keep a relaxed attitude about completing all of these projects. I can jump from bike project to bike project, picking out some aspect to work on, as the mood strikes me.

Stocking Up

   Not that my shop was exactly empty of bicycles, but about a month ago I was down to two finished bicycles for sale. Last autumn I had seven bikes, some complete and a couple in need of a few parts, and I was amazed that all but two were sold by the time spring rolled around – unfortunately they were the same two bikes mentioned earlier.

   I still have the Pinarello Prince, but a gentleman from Belgium offered a nice amount of money for the frameset on the Cipollini bike, and I was tired of seeing it sit around here for the last year and a half, so off it went! I still have all of the detail parts and might put them to use on a similar, less expensive frame if I can find one.

   I was stunned with the fastest sale I’ve ever made, as a local rider made a nice offer on the Bottecchia ADR team replica bike I wrote about last week. The story was that he had one just like it back-in-the-day and regretted the mistake of painting it, then selling it. He actually contacted me before I had even completed the work on the bike. I finished up on Friday and the bike was gone Sunday afternoon!

   After I had cleaned the Bottecchia, I found that under the grime the paint was in nearly perfect condition, but for a scratch on the top tube, probably from leaning it against something (WHY do people do that?), and some marks where the Silca frame pump was installed. I think that the grimy condition was really to my advantage, as the seller kept the price low, probably thinking the bike to be in worse shape than it actually was.

   I also completed the Triomphe group on the bike by replacing the respective SunTour parts, and during the process I have become a bit of an expert on the very subtle differences between Campagnolo’s Triomphe and Victory components. I gambled a little by purchasing on eBay a couple of small lots of parts in order to acquire the pieces I needed, but after reselling the extras, I ended up with quite a deal overall!

   As a bonus, I popped a new battery in the color-coordinated Avocet computer that was installed and found that it worked perfectly! Here are some photos taken just a couple hours before the sold bike was wheeled out my door:

   I am very budget-conscious with my business, but a little cash in my hand can be a dangerous thing – not because of how much I spend, but how much “damage” I can do with relatively little, particularly when I have a streak of luck with my bargain finds.

   I’ve hooked up through eBay with a dealer from Ceprano, Italy, who sells unique bikes that he finds at estate sales. I’ve purchased bikes from him in the past, and we’ve both saved a good amount working with each other directly to avoid the eBay fees. He tends to ship on-the-cheap as far as packing materials go, but I’m certainly not expecting anything pristine at the prices I’ve been paying, and I can touch-up or repair something if necessary.

   The Pinarello mountain bike and Fausto Coppi bike came from Giovanni, as did the recent Olmo purchase. Last week I saw that he had a silver Wilier Triestina bicycle for sale – I’ve never had one, and I couldn’t resist. More on that bike in a later post.

   I also got an incredible deal on a Colnago Mexico that was being sold at the Newark Bike Project, an interesting community shop that has racks of donated bikes, offers mechanical classes and holds “open shop” sessions for D.I.Y. repair work. The bicycle has an incredible mix of Campy parts, including Record, Super Record and Corsa Record (better known as C-Record), as well as some Shimano Dura-Ace brakes! I’m not sure what direction to go with this assortment, but individually the parts have great value.

   The Mexico has some paint issues, but more of the spot touch-up variety. With the relatively small price I paid for this bike, I was tinkering with trying out one of the high-end repaint companies, but then another job came my way, and I changed my mind.

   I received a call from a guy in the D.C. area who had seen the Pinarello Veneto I had on craigslist. He had a Veneto himself, although of a deeper blue color and MUCH poorer paint condition. He asked my opinion on what to do, and after seeing photos, I laid out the cost of having it stripped and painted. We had several enthusiastic exchanges of questions, stories and photo samples of past work, which eventually led to a visit/drop-off from Paul on Saturday morning.

   I haven’t had time to take some pics, but you will definitely be seeing plenty of his bike in the upcoming months!

OTHER Italian Classics

   When I’m conducting searches on the web for new cycling projects, the Italian master builders such as Colnago, Pinarello and Bianchi are always at the top of my list of brands to look out for. De Rosa and Ciöcc bicycles would be up there too, except they seem to demand top dollar in any condition and are hard to come by. There are a handful of Italian manufacturers that are often secondary in the thoughts of collectors here in the States, yet produce wonderful bicycles, and I was able to recently acquire a couple of these excellent bicycles.

   For me, the initial draw to these bikes is usually a nice color or interesting paint scheme that is hopefully in great condition. Sometimes the bike will be ready-to-ride, except for a bit of touch-up, decals, or perhaps replacing one or two components that are mismatched or that need some upgrading. Occasionally I’ll come across a bicycle that has some significance to me personally or has some pro racing history.

  

   This 1989 Bottecchia bicycle is a replica of those used by the ADR team, which was led by Greg Lemond. Experts will point out that during his legendary nine second victory in that year’s Tour de France, the American legend actually used his own TVT carbon frame “badged up” as a Bottecchia, since they were the team sponsor. Visually the difference is very subtle, since it was only the top and head tubes, but his bike is also used black instead of purple in its scheme. Anyway, good luck finding one of those – and if you do, you will likely be spending big bucks!

   I do have photographic evidence (left) that Greg rode the steel frame Bottecchia at some point during the season, so this is a neat piece of cycling history. The bike is also in wonderful condition for a nearly 30-year-old machine, as I suspect the person who owned it was a fan more than a serious cyclist, and this bike didn’t see too many miles. It will need a serious cleaning, but what I really want to do is complete what is mostly a Campagnolo Victory groupset on the bike, as it has a set of SunTour shift levers and a rear derailleur included.

   SunTour was a highly-respected Japanese company of the period and were renowned for its innovation – they developed the first slant parallelogram rear derailleur in 1964 and the first indexed shifting in 1969! SunTour was eventually pushed out of the market by Shimano and went bankrupt in the late ‘80s. Often when Euro framesets were imported during this time period, buyers would piece together what they could find or afford and throw in parts that they preferred because of look or performance. The original owner must have been a “SunTour guy”.

   In only his second year competing at the Tour de France, Ottavio Bottecchia (right) won the first title by an Italian rider, and became the first yellow jersey holder from start to finish! Teodore Carnielli began producing bikes in 1926 under the Bottecchia name, one year after the legend won his second Tour de France in a row.

   On June 3, 1927, in preparation for that year’s Tour, Ottavio went out on a training ride alone and never returned. His body was found lying by the roadside near his hometown. His bike was entirely undamaged, but his skull was cracked and other bones were broken. Because it was well known that he was an anti-fascist, it is believed supporters of Mussolini were behind the murder. The fact that the local police commander, a fascist, abruptly called off the investigation seemed to support the claim.

   Carnielli continued to produce Bottecchia bicycles, which began to make their mark in the pro peloton, with Gianni Motta winning the 1966 Giro d’Italia on one, as well as Rudi Altig claiming the World Road Race later in the year aboard a Bottecchia. Certainly better known for his association with Colnago, legend Giuseppe Saronni actually won his first Giro riding a Bottecchia bicycle!

   The late ‘80s Olmo bicycle that was shipped to me from Italy will require a bit more work, as some touch-up is needed, and the parts are all over the place, with different brands from different countries – not an acceptable situation for me! The Ofmega Vantage crankset and Saccon Altex brakes, both Italian products, are certainly appropriate, but the Sachs-Huret Aris Classic 2500 (think I just ran out of breath with that name) shifters and derailleurs are French.

   I got an outstanding deal on the bike and hesitate to pour a ton of money into it, but if I can find an inexpensive Campagnolo group to replace everything, that would be fantastic! I’m certainly in no hurry, and with a decent stock of bikes still hanging in my shop, I can be as patient as possible until something “deep discount” shows up on eBay.

  Giuseppe “Gepin” Olmo (left) was an Olympic gold medalist at the 1932 Los Angeles Olympics in the team trial and went on to an outstanding pro career. Over the years he won twenty stages at the Giro and claimed two Milan-San Remo victories. He also set a prestigious world hour record on the track in October 1935.

   As his career was winding down, Gepin joined his three brothers to form Olmo Cicli in their hometown of Celle Ligure. Their reputation for producing quality, durable racing machines grew, and the backing of top-tier pro teams boosted their company’s status. The true golden age for Olmo bicycles was the 1970-80s, with the sponsorship of the Magnaflex, GIS and Alfa-Lum teams, which brought a multitude of titles. At the end of the century, the company supplied bikes to the Spanish Vitalicio Seguros team, a connection that delivered a 1999 World Road Race title via Oscar Friere and four stage victories during the following season’s Giro d’Italia.

Ciao, for now.

Good Company

   For the past month or so I have been trying to organize a group ride out through the rolling farmlands of the Oley Valley, but have had trouble meshing everyone’s schedules enough to have a decent turnout. Foiled once again last weekend by a majority of “maybe” responses and a shaky weather forecast, a couple of friends joined me for a ride closer to home over a route very similar to the one my friend Scott and I did late last autumn.

   Although the temperature was much more reasonable Saturday than what we had faced during that November ride, it turned a bit uncomfortable as a misty rain began just past the midway point of our circuit. The three of us started off in Kimberton and rode into the south side of Phoenixville before heading down Route 29.

   I frequently ride in this area along Pickering Creek and was pleasantly surprised to find one road was repaved with smooth tarmac, as opposed to that annoying “oil and chips” that seems to be a popular method in our region. Matt and Dan mentioned several times how nice it was to ride out on these narrow roads that are so lightly traveled, which is also one of my favorite aspects of this route!

   I had to admit that, because the planned ride was packed with short, punchy hills and my companions were generally flatland triathlon riders, I was a bit concerned that they might wear down, but they rode at a really good pace. Not that I would ever wish any sort of bike malfunction on someone, but the fact that Matt developed an awful clicking in his bottom bracket kind of helped me to be aware of their position without having to look back as much!

Our route passed over the Kennedy Covered Bridge just west of Kimberton.

   We headed south on Route 113 and into Yellow Springs before looping back into Kimberton, where the drizzle had us weighing our options on whether to continue or shortcut back to the cars. I remarked on how the sky appeared brighter on the horizon and was convinced the rain would let up. The guys agreed on giving it a shot, and although it did rain a bit harder, it was never a soaking downpour to make things unbearable or dangerous.

   The rest of the trip included a climb back up to Ridge Pike, which we took west through East Vincent Township, and a ride down roller coaster-like Bethel Road – one of my favorites! We then followed French Creek all the way back into Kimberton.

   I was happy that the guys said that they enjoyed the route so much and that they would like to do it again some time. I assured them that the scenery along the second half of the route would have looked even better with some sun - and not having to peer through rain-drop-covered cycling glasses!

   Those who frequent this blog will know of my love of all cycling things Italian and will not be shocked to learn that two new projects will feature brands from “il bel paese”. I’ll get into those details next week, when the bikes are actually in my hands, and I can provide some photos. In the meantime I was able to put some significant work into the two that have been neglected in my shop.

   My intent was to sell off as many of the bikes that I had in stock (five out of seven isn’t bad!) before working on the Coppi and Ciocc frames. Although I have collected a majority of the needed parts since the spring acquisition of the bicycles, I had done little but some disassembly and cleaning.

   Last week I took the Coppi frame over to Bikesport for a repeat performance of “team bottom bracket”. The drive side fixed-cup is notorious for becoming semi-(or completely) fused to the frame, as moisture tends to do its damage to this sensitive part that people habitually disregard on vintage bicycles. Although this cup came off much more easily than the one taken off my friend Paul’s Bianchi last November, the operation is still entertaining, as the three mechanics struggle to keep the bike stable, the tool tight to the frame so it doesn’t slip and manipulate a longer lever attached to the tool to provide extra leverage.

     I was disappointed to find that when I attempted to polish up some of the chrome lugs on the frame, some areas were too far gone. I ended up taking a spinning wire brush wheel to those areas, and taking it down to the original steel surface. It’s relatively shiny, and I’m contemplating whether to just leave those areas exposed as-is along with the other chromed lugs or just paint over all of it. The frame has had its first round of paint stripper applied, and I scraped off as much as possible before giving the tubes another chemical coating.

   The Ciocc will need some paint in spots, and I’m hoping my friend Bruce can do his airbrush magic – although I am most concerned with matching the antique white shade on the frame. I sanded down the larger areas of bubbling paint and intend to touch-up the smaller nicks and scrapes by hand.

Bella Bicicletta Azzura

   Not a whole lot to write about this week, as the goal was mainly to complete the Pinarello Veneto and post some photos of the finished product. There weren't any real complications to the assembly, except for the noisy operation of the rear derailleur and chain that was occurring when I spun the pedals.
   Turns out that after I sized the chain, I failed to notice that the Campagnolo rear derailleur had a small guide fin on the cage near the upper pulley wheel, and I had mistakenly installed the chain on the outside of that fin.
   Luckily the chain had a master link that could be opened and then reconnected, so rerouting it was a simple operation. No need to mess with the chain tool and remove any pins!
   An operation that can be a bit frustrating is cutting lengths of housing for the cables. It is a simple job to replace housing, as you can use the old pieces as a guide to cut new lengths. However, with a bare frame it really is a matter of trial and error to maintain the proper amount of slack, especially in areas around the handlebars, where turning can pinch or stretch the cable if the housing is cut to the incorrect length.
   From years of practice, I've learned to err on the long side, so that I can trim to the correct fit. Early on in my build experiences I ended up with a good collection of mistake pieces that I had set aside to eventually be used for smaller sections, such as between the chain stay and rear derailleur or from the top tube to rear brake. I'm finally nearing a point where I'll have used up all those "blunder bits".

The Veneto is now listed in my For Sale page!