As much as I love the greater part of the new technology in cycling (wouldn’t think of going for a fast ride on my old bikes…just love the new performance level), the classic rides of the past loom large in my cycling soul. Having had all my formative years in the bike racing world when the revered names in fast veloville were actually a guys you could go and see (with the super stars being Italian), I will always treasure and appreciate the times when the men whose names were on the frame actually had passion for what they were doing.
Unlike all the big concerns today where the word passion is merely a collection of letters the promo agencies tell them to use in their adverts, the industry was alive with the real deal. Today with nearly all the names so common in the peleton, the prime concern is marketing and mark-up. When I see how cheap some of these companies get their bikes/frames made, it makes me mental. How hands-on can you get when you’re making tens or hundreds of thousands of frames a year?
As I’ve spent time with a number of the top Italian builders I can say that the one trait they all shared was that they believed their product was the best there was. From the inception of my current business I have endeavoured to carry this forward to at least offer riders a true personal cycling experience.
It is well known that much of the product from this older era of cycling has become quite collectible and thus there are many collectors that have emerged. In my own geographical area there is one fellow, who although having started late in the cycling game, has amassed quite a collection and indeed quite a name because of his wheeled world. Fritz Durenberger spent years collecting and racing classic Alfa Romeos and many, many Italian small displacement GP style motor bikes such as Ducati, Parilla and Moto Morini. Now his ensemble of cycles is rampant with deliciously desirable racing bikes from the Sixties through the Eighties, the pinnacle of handbuilt, old world performance bikes, a combination of artistry and engineering.
I recently restored a 1969 Cinelli Super Corsa for one of our new bike customers. While the gentleman had thousands of miles on this olde steed (including numerous trips to the mountains of Europe) he knew that one of these new machines we do would bring back some of the minutes on the climbs that advancing age had taken away. As his Cinelli (that he collected new from Cinelli’s shop) was a rare candy red example, I mentioned that this fellow Fritz had an even more rare candy green version dating from 1975. I actually had restored that one too. I suggested it would be fun to bring his bike as well as my own 1962 (also rare) black Super Corsa for an evening a la casa del Fritz for a Cinelli rendezvous. At the same time he could check out the time warp rides.
Things were sorted out and we all (his cycle enthusiast son also attended) gathered at Fritz’s place for a lovely nostalgic evening of appreciation. While his collection is some eighty odd machines, a remarkable percentage of them came from my old bike shop, so for me a visit is a real deja vu and always a pleasurable one.
Down to the business at hand we got the three Cinellis together for a ‘family’ photo as seen below.
Not entirely original parts wise but classic nevertheless and a pleasant change from the ubiquitous dull, dull dreadfully dull silver. Cinellis were the first really good bike I ever heard of and although few riders of any repute ever used one racing, where I grew up they were the deal. In fact my first real Italian steed was to be a very rare salmon pink Super Corsa. The photo below shows me in the 1976 Gastown GP (wearing the red/green jersey) getting around the soft pedaling maggot in gray who was doing nothing but slowing the break. The Cinelli was a good stable bike for that tight course…didn’t matter though, we got caught and I didn’t win a nickel.
Several of my own personal bikes from the past had found their way into this lot including my first DeRosa which was also the first DeRosa sold in western Canada. In the photo below you can see the red diamond stay DeRosa beside the red/white Cunningham which was the first bike I ever built in 1985. As well, you can see a candy red, pantographed Olmo my shop sold in the early eighties.
I raced that DeRosa for the first part of the 1980 season bit I was disappointed with the excess flex in the frame while climbing. It would actually flex enough that the (Campag) chainset would scrape the front changer…..kinda weird. Swapped it for a Pinarello I had hanging on a hook and was immediately smitten. Wuddarock. Again this was to be the first of its type sold in my end of the country as no one had heard of Pinarellos at that time. It would lead to a great relationship with Giovanni Pinarello and we sold nearly 500 units over the years. It even became the ride of choice for our Cicli Forza team at the time.
Not to be dismayed by a less than satisfactory DeRosa performance, I ordered a track frame from him on a visit to his shop some years later. I tell this story because it underlines my belief in the importance of custom. frame fit in many cases.
DeRosa’s shop was in the (very large) basement of his house at that time and while there on road bike biz, I requested a track frame for myself. When his son measured my arm length and passed it on to a pen-in-hand Ugo, he said, ‘di nuovo’ (again) not believing the long length Christiano had given him. My verbal impression of a chimp caused all to laugh and Ugo jotted the number down on his sheet.
When the bike finally arrived I could tell he didn’t believe anyone my height would have such arms and it came too short, even with a 13cm stem it was still cramped as can be seen in the pic:
While that pink beastie rode very well…we even won that particular Madison that evening….it was put on the block. Bit of a pity as it was a solid, beautiful frame…..but me back bloody hurt!! So I made one just for me.
Anyway…its late now and I’m knackered so this is ‘end of part one’. Couple of cool bikes in the next installment…check back.