1962 Cycle Competition Cyclotourisme by Daniel Rebour

Posted on by

I purchased this 1962 Daniel Rebour Cycle booklet from Jan Heine about 5 years ago.  Back then I carried it with me whenever I took public transportation to work (TriMet) so I could peruse its French language pages and stare longingly upon its Daniel Rebour drawings at my leisure. While I have never taken a French language class, I studied Spanish extensively in my youth and was at one time fluent in that language.  That made it easier to have a rudimentary comprehension of what I was engrossed in while bumping along toward downtown Portland on the bus. Eventually I realized that I didn’t want the pages of this rare vintage publication to become dog-eared, so I set the booklet aside in my special bin for special stuff not to be messed with.

Unusual through the frame cable routing for rear centerpull Mafac brakes.

I have consulted this little tome a few times since then when I needed some background information on components and bicycles produced in the early 1960’s.  Recently, I dug it out because I had remembered an odd through the frame cable routing for a rear centerpull (Mafac) brake.  And even more recently, I wondered if this little booklet contained any information about French Cyclo rear derailleurs.  I figured probably not, as these derailleurs were becoming obsolete by the late 50’s.  And, I was right about that.  But, I once again was drawn into this publication, which is organized by bicycle component categories:  Frames and tubing (Le Cadre); Bottom Brackets (Les Roulements); Cranksets (Le Pédalier); Chainrings (Les Plateaux); Pedals and Toe Clips (Pédales et Cale-Pieds); Wheelsets (Les Roues); Tubular Tires (Les Boyaux); Derailleurs (Les Derailleurs); Brakes (Les Friens); and the remaining chapters on saddles, handlebars, and accessories.

Sunglasses in your kit – 1962!

Mudflap with 3 point attachment.

Classic Rene Herse 3 arm crankset.

A 1961 Goeland.

Daniel Rebour’s treasured drawings are featured in a number of print publications.  One of these is Frank Berto’s The Dancing Chain.  I frequently consult Berto’s book for insight and guidance on setting up vintage derailleurs.

Daniel Rebour contributed significantly to our understanding of vintage bicycle components.  He left a legacy that all cyclists benefit from, especially those of us committed to preserving the legacy of vintage bicycles, and we are all the better for it. I am grateful for his contribution.

Setting Up a French Cyclo Rear Derailleur, Part II

Posted on by

Cyclo rear derailleur with cable installed – 1941 Goeland

The 1941 Goeland I have been gradually “restoring” (translate: preserving and making rideable again) was equipped with a French Cyclo rear derailleur.  The French model is not to be confused with its British counterpart.  Although the two derailleurs operate with a helical sliding bolt and friction shifting, the set-up of the cables and shifters is different between the two country’s versions.  The French model features a c’est la vie attitude:  no cable stops; no housing; set up success determined by your close connection to someone in the know.  The British version has cable stops at both ends and cable housing for the entire length of the one piece cable (often described as a two piece system) which has a nipple welded to the middle of the cable to fit the slot in the helical bolt.  The two Cyclo models seem to be a case of British pragmatism vs. French ingenuity.  I think both are to be enjoyed and experienced.

A British Cyclo 3 speed model

According to Classic Lightweights, the Cyclo rear derailleur was first introduced in France in 1924.  It was the most widely used rear derailleur from the 1930’s through the early 50’s.  Disrealigears has a more extensive discussion of the company’s history which you can read about here.  It seems that while the British version of this derailleur thrived in the 1920’s through the 1950’s, the French version was under attack by and ultimately succumbed to Simplex.  That may explain the difficulty involved in setting up the French version of this rear gear changer.

 

Shifter cable routed through derailleur spring.

Once you have sourced an appropriate cable (I harvested a NOS cable from a British Cyclo, which had its nipple welded on to the cable – you can also source a nipple that can be threaded on to any tandem length shifter cable), one of the most baffling elements of the set up is how to keep cable tension on the rear nipple, which must engage the helicoid bolt in order for the gear to shift.  The photo above from a 1956 advertisement shows that the cable is routed through the derailleur spring. This definitely helps keep the cable nipple in place, but it is not a perfect solution.  Nevertheless, this is how I set up the shifter cable for the 1941 Goeland.

The 1940s Cyclo shifter is a pretty little thing, weighing about nothing, but looking very nice.  The arm of the shifter angles away from the frame just enough, but the length of this shifter’s lever is short compared to others of this era. The entire device is made from aluminum alloy, except for the outer steel cover, shown above. 

This is the “conjoiner” which connects the two shifter cable ends together.  It is probably actually some kind of evil spirit.  No joy can be derived from working with this little device.  It fits into the slot on the inside of the shifter.  I can’t really comment from here except to say:  watch out!

Here is the conjoiner coming out of its slot  (of course!) on the shifter.  I had become too confident when I thought I had my cable tension dialed in. So, when the conjoiner popped out of the shifter, I realized that where was no way to avoid the double wrapping and shifter twisting steps that I used when setting up a 1947 version on my Camille Daudon.

French 3 speed freewheel prior to cleaning and lubrication.

Rigida 650b wheelset with 1941 rear hub – a flip flop version with butted spokes.

I am still in the process of restoring the 1941 Rigida Deco 650b wheelset.  That has involved re-tensioning the spokes, cleaning and reviving the rims, and rebuilding the hubs.  The freewheel has now been removed, cleaned and lubricated.  The threads on the filp flop rear hub are in good shape, so once I have the freewheel back on the rear wheel, with a period correct chain installed, the set up of the rear derailleur should proceed with haste – or so I hope!

Cycling around Canby, Oregon

Posted on by

If you are looking for a peaceful, nature-filled cycling adventure, look no further than Canby, Oregon.  The site of this little town was once a gathering place for Native Americans who enjoyed the local crop of strawberries and used the area as a meeting place.  Canby sits on a plateau above the east bank of the Willamette River.  The Canby Ferry, on the outskirts of the town, is one of those rare cable ferries, and will take you across the river on a tiny conveyance whose maximum load allows for 6 cars and 49 passengers, plus a bicycle or two.

Cycling around Canby is mostly flat, but if you venture out east of Highway 99E you will begin to climb up to another plateau that sits at the base of the Cascade Mountain Range.  For today’s ride, I stayed close to town, and was able to use mostly my highest gears.  In fact, as I was blasting away in my top gear I thought:  Uh oh!  What will it be like on the return trip?  As it turned out, I seemed to have a slightly downhill grade the whole way, and enjoyed spinning leisurely on my Meral.  Many of the town’s back roads have 25 mph speed limits.  I kind of worried about exceeding them!

The town’s website has several bike route maps which you can download.  I printed out all of them for my trip today, but actually ended up just riding where my instincts took me.  One route not to be missed is the Logging Road Trail which leads down to the river.  I took an inviting unmarked path off this trail and ended up at the banks of the Willamette River, after walking the bike through a very muddy section.  I was rewarded with a lovely view of the river, quietly meandering northward toward Portland.

On the way back, I encountered lovely pastures, crop fields at rest, and big horizons.  Seeing these irrigation wheels reminded me of my childhood.  My grandfather was an enthusiast of this “new” technology back in the 1950’s.  Wheel line irrigation is in use today, but was developed many decades earlier.

If you have the opportunity to cycle here, I think you will be delighted by the roads, friendly residents, and the enticing call of the wild.