Shimano Crankset Recall

 I ride Shimano components—derailleurs, cassettes and brakes—on three of my bikes.  So what I am about to write will not be an expression of schadenfreude.

Here goes:  Shimano is recalling 2.8 million of its cranksets worldwide—760,000 in North America.  They include Dura-Ace and Ultegra 11-speed cranks manufactured between from 2012 to 2019 and sold, whether to individuals or to bike-makers, until this year.

The “Hollowtech” cranks were made with two more-or-less U-shaped aluminum alloy bars bonded with epoxy, which accounts for their appearance, light weight—and the problem that’s led to the recall.

 About 4500 crank arms de-laminated—in other words, came apart—as cyclists pedaled them. Some of those incidents resulted in injuries though, apparently, none were life-altering.

Shimano has provided a list of model names and numbers, along with date codes (which can be found on the backsides of the crank arms). 

A Time Capsule In A Local Bike Shop

In this blog, I have often mentioned Bicycle Habitat.  It's a fine shop (well, now they're a series of shops) and I have a relationship with them that goes back decades, to the time I was working for American Youth Hostels and Habitat was around the corner.  They've remained a "go-to" source for me, and their chief mechanic and partner, Hal Ruzal, turned me on to Mercians.

I also patronize a shop in my neighborhood:  Tony's, right in the heart of the still-Greek part of Astoria.  Actually, I learned about them years ago, when I was an artist-in-residence at St. Mary's Hospital for Children and a chain snapped on my way home.

Recently, I bought a couple of things from them.  I got to talking with the owner, who is friendly and helpful.  Although he sells current-model Cannondales and Treks, he has a trove of older parts.  He probably wasn't joking when he said some of them have been there since the shop opened in the early '70's.

I spotted one such piece of equipment in his showcase:  a pair of Shimano bar-end shifters from the '70's.  "I haven't seen those in a while," I remarked.

"I can show you something else you probably haven't seen in a long time."

That was an understatement, to say the least.

I think that I've seen one other set of Simplex bar-end shifters in my life.  Certainly, I haven't seen them in four decades, or close to it.  

Most cyclists who rode bar-end shifters during the '70's and '80's chose SunTour's.  I even saw a few otherwise all-Campagnolo bikes with "Bar Cons," and with good reason:  Sun Tour's ratcheting mechanism made them much smoother and more reliable than other companies' bar-end shifters.  To this day, they are probably still the best-selling bar end shifter of all time:  Many cyclists, even some who aren't "retro-grouches," seek them out on eBay and other places.

If my own observations are indicative of wider trends, I'd say that just about everybody who didn't use SunTour's bar end shifters in those days opted for Shimano which, while not as pleasant to use as SunTour's, were still better than the ones made by other companies--including Campagnolo.

Simplex and Huret bar ends (which are often believed to have been made in the same factory) relied on friction to keep the lever in place when it wasn't being shifted.  So did Campagnolo's bar ends, as well as most other shift levers made for derailleurs.  Friction is fine on downtube shifters, but makes for balkier shifting with the extra cable length required by bar-end shifters.

Simplex, however, seemed to believe it had a solution to the problem with its demultiplicateur.  It clamps to the down tube, near the bottom bracket--in the same spot a cable guide would have been placed.  While most guides for rear derailleur cables were (and are) "tunnels" through which one cable runs continuously, the demultiplicateur was a bell crank-like device to which two lengths of cable--one forward to the shift levers, the other rearward to the derailleur--were attached to pivot points with differing radii.   This increased the mechanical advantage, which made for easier and smoother (if not necessarily more accurate) shifts.  A few constructeurs and custom builders brazed them onto their frames, most often tandems, which required cables longer than some of the rides people take.

Based on my limited experience with the demultiplicateur,  I'd say it did what it was intended to do, and did it well. It made shifting those old Simplex and Huret derailleurs (as well as Campy derailleurs that didn't have "Record" or "Gran Sport" in their names) tolerable, even with bar-end shifters.  But shops usually tried to dissuade customers from them:  For one thing, they were never easy to come by.  But, more important (at least from their point of view), they were more complicated than other cable-routing systems, which meant that mechanics hated installing them and customers balked at the extra cost (for the extra time needed) to install them.

I was tempted to make an offer on those shifters and their demultipilicateur, which were still in the packaging from nearly half a century ago.  But I encouraged Tony to list them, unless he wanted to keep them:  Someone out there is restoring a French bike and would want, if not the shifters, then at least the demultiplicateur.  Or, I'm sure, some collector would want them.

I asked Tony whether he had any Simplex downtube shifters.  (Of course, I'm thinking of the retrofriction levers.)  He doesn't think he has any, or any other vintage downtube levers, he said.  But those Simplex bar-ends were certainly a find!  Even if you're not interested in vintage bike equipment, people like Tony are fun and interesting to talk with just because they've been involved with bikes for so long. Oh, and I shared my reminisces about Greece with him.  He assured me that my itinerary was a good one for a first visit!

My Shimona

I'll never forget the guy who just couldn't wait to show me the "deal" he got--on Canal Street.  For ten dollars, he got himself the watch he always wanted--in gold, no less.  

That timepiece of his dreams was a "Roxel".

Was that name the fruit of a counterfeiter's creativity--or dyslexia?  I asked myself the same question when I saw this:

"Shimona" bike parts have been showing up on bikes purchased online--mainly under the "Aspen" brand.  The typeface on the disc in the photo is all but indistinguishable from that of Shimano.  I wonder how many people didn't catch the "typo."

Is the same person responsible for "Roxel" and "Shimona"?  Or was the person who came up with the latter name listening to song from a late-70s one-hit wonder.  I'm talking, of course, about "My Shimona":

By Any Other Name

You most likely have seen this freewheel, if only in passing:

It's Shimano's Tourney (MF-TX20) model, found on many lower-priced hybrid, cruiser and "comfort" bikes.  It's made in China, like so many other bicycle components (and consumer products) on the market today. 

Given that it is made in China, I wouldn't be surprised to learn that it's made in the same factory as other low-priced freewheels sold under other brand names.  In fact, I wouldn't even be surprised to find out that some freewheel sold under another name is mechanically identical to Shimano's.

Even so, I was surprised to see this:

I had to glance at it a second time before I realized it wasn't a Shimano.  I mean, how much more like "Shimano" could the logo on the largest cog be?

An eBay listing for it doesn't mention its brand name: Shimeng.  The title of that listing, however, says "For Shimano."

Hmm...How close can you come to saying that your product is Shimano without saying it?

For what it's worth (pun intended), the Shimeng freewheel's $9.89 price includes shipping from Malaysia.  On the other hand, "abaxo" is selling the Shimano freewheel for $15.87.  To be fair, that price includes shipping--from one of their US warehouses.

A Honeycomb Or A Spider? From Huret?

When I first became passionate about cycling, the best frames--usually made from Reynolds 531 or Columbus SL tubing--featured intricately-cut lugs, like the ones made by Nervex:

Nervex lugs with extra-long tangs on a 1950 Mercian Vincitore

A good production frame like the Peugeot PX-10 would use Nervex lugs "as is"; custom frame builders might file them to even finer points, or make a cutout "window".  

A few builders even cut plain lugs into their own distinctive patterns. The British builders in particular were noted for their distinctive scrolls, trellises and other shapes and patterns.

During the mid to late 1970s, however, bicycle makers--even the small-production custom builders--shifted to plainer "spearpoint" lugs.  Sometimes those artisans filed them to elongate the "spear" or, as they did with Nervex lugs, cut a "window" in a particular shape, such as a heart, diamond or cloverleaf, into the body of the lug.

For all of the fancy lugwork, though, dropouts looked more or less the same.  Again, some custom or low-production builders filed them or did other finishing work to make their bikes all the more distinctive.  Still, because most high-quality dropouts looked so similar, there wasn't as much a builder could do to make that part of the bike stand out.

One notable exception this:

Is it a honeycomb?  Or a spiderweb?  Did Huret make it?

In 1974 and 1975, Gitane "Interclub" and "Tour de France" were made with this dropout.  A few other bikes--all of them French--also featured this unique frame fitting.  

Often called the "honeycomb" or "spiderweb" dropout, its provenance is somewhat mysterious.  It's usually referred to as a "Huret" dropout because the bikes that came with it always seemed to have Huret derailleurs attached to them. (Yes, even on Gitanes, which were notorious for coming with parts that were very different from the ones listed on catalogue spec tables!)  I could not, however, find this dropout in any Huret catalogue or brochure from 1974 or 1975--or, in fact, from 1969 through 1981.

From what I've gathered, it seems to be of good quality.  One discussion board says that it was cast, rather than forged as Huret's (as well as Campagnolo's) road dropouts were.  However it was made, the "honeycomb" or "spiderweb" seems to be robust, as no one seems to know of any that broke or otherwise failed.

Apart from its appearance, the "'comb" or "'web" had one other interesting--and useful--feature: without modification, it could accept Campagnolo, SunTour, Shimano and Simplex as well as Huret derailleurs.  This is particularly serendipitious for anyone who wants to outfit an Interclub or Tour de France frame with modern components.

Huret dropout

Nearly all dropouts made since the 1980s are patterned after Campagnolo, which has a 10mm threaded mounting hole and a "stop" on the underside, at the 7 o'clock position.  (SunTour and Shimano dropouts from the 1970s and 1980s were also made this way.)  A Huret dropout also has a 10mm threaded hole, but its "stop" is at the four o'clock position. 

Campagnolo dropout. Note the 'stop' at the 7 o'clock position, as opposed to the 4 o'clock position on the Huret.

What all of that means is that a Campagnolo derailleur will fit into a Huret dropout, but it might mount at a strange angle, which could impede its shifting.  A SunTour derailleur doesn't share this problem, as its angle-adjusting screw has a lot of range.  In fact, Schwinn Superiors from 1976 through 1979 came with SunTour derailleurs mounted on Huret dropouts.  So did some Motobecanes from that period.

On the other hand, some Huret derailleurs won't work on Campy dropouts at all.  Two different versions of the Jubilee were made:  one for Huret's own dropouts, the other for Campagnolo.  Other Huret models, like early versions of the Success and Duopar, would work with adapters Huret offered; later versions of those derailleurs were made only to fit Campagnolo-style dropouts, which had become the de facto standard.

Simplex dropout

Simplex dropouts, as opposed to the others, had a 9 millimeter unthreaded hole and no "stop".  If you want to use any other derailleur, you have to tap out the hole and grind a "stop":  a rather delicate procedure, especially if the dropout was chromed, as it was on many bikes.  Because SImplex derailleurs attached to the dropout with a recessed allen bolt that threaded into the derailleur's top pivot (in contrast to other derailleurs with top pivot bolts that threaded directly into the dropout), it could be used in a Campy dropout--with a "Class B" fit.

So...If you have a bike with the "honeycomb" or "spiderweb" dropouts, you have no reason to fear, at least according to everything I've read.  But, honestly, you know you like it for its looks, or at least its uniqueness.  They don't make them like that anymore!

Something Else That Isn't New, And Something That's Even Better

So...You think Shimano introduced the low-profile cantilever brake as part of its then-new XTR mountain bike group of components in 1992.

Well, when I first saw those XTR low-profile brakes, I had my suspicions.  Like most Shimano "innovations", some other company had tried it before.  Some, like the dual-pivot brakes by GB, Altenberger and Weinmann, didn't work very well, and Shimano was the first component manufacturer to make it work.  Others, like indexed derailleur shifting and hubs with integrated cassette bodies, were successful in earlier iterations (in both cases, from SunTour), but the cycling public wasn't--for various reasons--ready for them.

So...It probably wouldn't surprise you to learn that Shimano didn't invent the low-profile cantilever brake after all:

I don't know when this brake was made.  I'm guessing that they came as original equipment on the bike and, from what else I saw on the bike--a Motobecane city or utility bike--it was made in the 1960s, or even earlier.  Perhaps the brakes were made by one of the familiar but now-extinct manufacturers like Mafac, CLB or Weinmann.  Or they might have been made by some other company that went out of business even earlier than those firms.  

A sign announcing the bike was for sale hung from its top tubes.  The price was pretty low.  I thought about buying it, except that I don't have the time or resources to restore it.  Its owner might have ridden it for years without lubing (let alone replacing) the chain or cables, or cleaning and greasing the bearings.  But, as you know from reading this, that's something I would never do if I could help it.

Also, the logistics of getting the bike to my place would have been difficult, to say the least, for reasons I will reveal in a future post (possibly tomorrow).

In the meantime, I'll leave you with another interesting bike I saw today.  Given the way it was parked, I couldn't take better photos.  

You know that at some point, this bike was owned by someone who rode a lot--and not just from the French Cycle Touring Society sticker on the fender.

I'm guessing that the bike originally had dropped handlebars and, possibly, a Brooks or Ideale leather saddle.  Should we be upset that the bike now has flat bars and a thicker saddle?  Although I would have liked to see the bike in its "original" state, if the bars and seat are the thing that makes the bike a rider rather than a wall hanging, I won't complain.

The frame is made of Vitus 888--in its time, the chief European rival to Reynolds 531 and Columbus SL or SP. Also, the components are among the best of their time:

Now, you know the Specialities TA crankset, Huret Duopar derailleurs and Maxicar hubs spell "top of the line touring bike."  But this bike's owner (or builder) knew a thing or two:  the front sported a Mafac Racer brake, but the rear featured a Mafac Raid.  (Can't you just see and hear the bated breath and Velo Orange and Compass Cycles?)  And those pedals, from Specialites TA:  possibly the finest quill pedals ever made.  

My favorite feature, though, is this:

No, it's not a funky shifter for a front derailleur.  Instead, the lever operates this:

Some cyclists believed that when Sanyo chainstay-mounted dynamos were made (in the 1980s), they were the best available. I never used one myself, but I knew a few cyclists who did.  All claimed the generator was more efficient than any other available at the time--as long as the tire wasn't knobby or slicked by snow, ice, mud or oily rainwater.

Whatever you want to say, Meral bicycles reflected a lot of attention to detail.  It's too bad we didn't see more of them in the US.

(Yes, that last sentence is a clue as to why I decided not to buy the Motobecane with the low-profile cantilever brakes!)

It's Probably A Sun Tour Gran Prix. Or A Simplex Juy Export 61.

You know that something is influential is when it is imitated--even after the original is no longer made.

Mavic 851 rear dearailleur, circa 1981.  Photo from Velobase

Several bicycle derailleurs come immediately to mind.  If you're of my generation, one is the Campagnolo Nuovo/Super Record. From the time the first Nuovo was made in 1967 until the last Super Record came out of the Vicenza plant two decades later, innumerable parts manufacturers copied its basic design.  Much of the reason for that was, of course, the preponderance of Campagnolo equipment in the elite pelotons of the world.  "If Eddy won the Tour with it, it must be the best," is what those imitators were probably thinking.

Campagnolo Super Record, circa 1983.  From Wikipedia Commons

Campagnolo Nuovo Record. From Sheldon Brown's Bicycle Glossary.

Some will stop reading this post (and, possibly, this blog) after reading what I'm about to write:  The Campagnolo Nuovo/Super Record, even when it was introduced, was not the best-shifting derailleur available.  What caused its domination at the top of the cycling world was its reliability and, well, the reputation Campagnolo built with their earlier derailleurs and other components.  Also, each derailleur (more so the Nuovo, in my opinion) had a "classic" look to it.

Kharkov rear derailleur.  Probably the sorriest imitation of Campy NR/SR--with the possible exception of the Gian Robert--ever made.  Photo from Velobase.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, when the GDR government decided it needed to bring bicycle technology up to the level of what existed in the West, one of the parts they produced was a Tectoron derailleur that, from ten meters away, looks like a Campagnolo Super Record without the logos. 

Huret Svelto.  From Bulgier.net

Another influential derailleur was the Huret Svelto.  In its time, it was rather nice:  The shifting was better (or, at least, no worse) than most other derailleurs that were available when it was introduced in 1963.  And it had a certain industrial-minimalist aesthetic. (Think of a "cold irons bound" version of the Jubilee.)  But the main reason why it was widely imitated--even Shimano and SunTour had versions, called the "Pecker" and "Skitter" respectively--was that it was made from pressed steel plates riveted together. In other words, it was cheap to manufacture.  Through the 1970s, various component makers--including Romet of Poland--were making derailleurs that looked (and shifted) like the Svelto.

Romet derailleur, Poland, 1970s.  Photo from Disraeligears

(In contrast to the Svelto, the Huret Allvit--which may have come as original equipment on more bicycles than any other rear derailleur in history--had, as far as I know, only one imitator:  the USA-made Excel Dynamic of 1975-77.  It's particularly odd that, as the first American derailleur, its manufacturer would almost slavishly copy the Allvit when many cyclists were replacing their Allvits with SunTour and Shimano derailleurs.)

1964 SunTour Gran Prix. Photo from Disrealigears

Today, if you asked what derailleur is the most influential, the answer you'd probably get is "Shimano".  No specific model would be mentioned, as nearly all derailleurs made by that company over the past thirty years share the same basic "slant pantograph" design with two sprung pivots.  Neither of those features is, of course, a Shimano innovation:  SunTour introduced the former in its 1964 "Gran Prix" derailleur, and Simplex first employed the latter feature on a parallelogram derailleur when it made the "Juy Export 61."

Simplex Juy Export 61. Photo from Cycles Cambio  (Japanese blog)


Since all but the lowest-cost derailleurs today use both features, perhaps we could say that the Sun Tour Gran Prix (or, perhaps the SunTour Competition, which came out a  year later and eliminated the Gran Prix's less-desirable features) and the Simplex Juy Export 61 are the most influential derailleurs in the bicycle world today, even though neither has been made in decades.

SunTour "U" derailleur.  Photo from Disraeligears

SunTour Honor. Photo from Bikeforums

The funny thing is that the influence of those two derailleurs--and others from SunTour and Simplex--still lives on even in derailleurs found on the cheapest department store bikes.  Shimano's less-expensive derailleurs, with the dropped rather than the slant parallelogram, continue to employ two sprung pivots reminiscent of Simplex.  Perhaps even more ironically, Shimano is apparently making a derailleur that apes the SunTour "Honor" and "U" derailleurs found on low-priced bikes during the 1970's:

I saw this derailleur on a bike parked near where I work.  I'd never seen it before.  The only difference between the Shimano in the photo and the lowest-priced SunTours of the 1970s seems to be the black plastic front knuckle and that the rear knuckle, parallelogram plates and the part that holds the top pivot seem to be more crudely stamped and finished--and possibly made from a lower grade of steel--than those old SunTour base models. 

Those inexpensive SunTours shifted nearly as well as, but developed play in the pivots more quickly than, the V-series SunTours.  (Sometimes the Sun Tour "U" was the only good component on the bike that came with it!)  I wonder how that Shimano derailleur I saw today shifts.

My Kingdom For A Horse, Or Ten Kowalits For A Pair Of Wheels

I remember getting my first Campagnolo component:  a pair of Nuovo Tipo hubs.  My first nice pair of clincher wheels—Super Champion 58 rims laced to those hubs with Robergel Sport spokes—cost the princely (for a poor college student like me) sum of $100.  The man who built them seemed like a magician to me at the time:  I simply could not fathom what sorcery or alchemy turned all of those parts into a pair of wheels that would take the length and breadth of state of New Jersey, on two of the early Five Boro Bike Tours and on my first European bike tour.

It wasn’t just the parts and the build that made them seem almost otherworldly at that time.  Most clincher tires and wheels in the US at the time were 27” and the tubes had Schraeder (the kind found on car tires) valves.  Mine were 700C and drilled for Presta valves.  That was intentional:  I used the wheels on my Peugeot PX-10, which came with 700C tubular wheels and tires—and, of course Presta valves.  I’ve never seen a tubular tire with Schrader valves and the only non-700C tubulars I’ve come across were the ones made for junior racers.

Those new wheels meant that I could switch back and forth between tubulars and clinchers without having to re-adjust the brake blocks.  (I used to tighten the cable adjuster a bit for the tubular rims, which were narrower and loosen them for the clinchers.)  They also would fit on other good bikes, including a couple I would acquire later—and which would, at one time or another, be equipped with those wheels.  Also, I could use the same pump on all of my tires without having to use an adapter.

Today, those wheels would seem dated to anyone not riding a “classic” bike.  The parts were all of fine quality and lasted many rides for me.  But using those Tipo hubs would limit gear selection to whatever five- and six-speed freewheels could be found in swap meets, on eBay or in some “accidentally” discovered stash. And, as good as those rims were, the Mavic MA series rims, with their double-wall construction and hooked tire beads, introduced in the early 1980s, were lighter and allowed cyclists to use a wider variety of tires. 

But even after the MA rims—and newer hub offerings from Campagnolo, Shimano, Mavic and other companies—were introduced, there were places where cyclists would have done almost anything to have wheels like my first good clinchers.  One of those places was the German Democratic Republic, a.k.a. East Germany.  In fact, they probably would have done illegal or simply un-approved-of things to get a bike like mine—especially its Stronglight crank.  Only Campagnolo’s Record crankset was more prized.

That is the situation Gerolf Meyer describes in the latest edition of BicycleQuarterly. 

Like other athletes from his country, cyclists wanted to prove themselves against the best from the West.  As talented as some East German riders were, their equipment was stuck in the 1950’s.  There were shops that took “room dividers”—Diamant “sport” bicycles with impossibly long wheelbases—and shortened chain stays and top tubes, lowered brake bridges and did other things to make those machines ride something like racing bikes.  Engineers and technicians in factories and medical supply cooperatives made cable tunnel guides and other frame fittings and bike parts on the side. 

There were even mechanics and builders who could take the crudely-machined and –finished East German components and make them look—and even, to a degree, function—like “Campag”.  In one of the most extreme examples, Hans-Christian Smolik took a Tectoron rear derailleur—which borrowed its shape and basic function from the Campagnolo Record but and had lettering that faced upside down—and made it all but indistinguishable from the Real McCoy. 

Tectoron Rear Derailleur.  Photo from Disraeligears

 

In the 1980s, the East German sanctioned the development of the Tectoron derailleur and other parts in an attempt to catch up with the technology of Western bikes and equipment.  One of the ironies is that Campagnolo, Shimano, Mavic and other Western manufacturers were innovating in ways that would render obsolete (at least for those who simply had to have the newest and latest) the stuff the East Germans were imitiating.

Campagnolo Super Record, 1979.  Photo from Disraeligears

A fortunate few were able to obtain Western components through connections—a relative who’d retired to the West (Apparently,the East German government didn’t mind letting retirees leave, probably figuring that it would save the state on pension costs.), a partially-subterranean “supply chain” or Western racers the East Germans met at events like the Peace Race.

About the latter:  There developed a barter system not unlike the ones soldiers develop with those fighting alongside, as well as on the other side, of them, complete with its own "exchange rates". (During the first Gulf War, one French K-ration was worth five of its American counterparts.)  Sometimes  the East Germans—as well as Soviet bloc riders—would trade jerseys, pins or other souvenirs, or local delicacies. But the East Germans—and Czechs—actually made one bicycle component that was superior to anything in the West: tubular tires.  Kowalit tubular were the stuff of legend:  a light, supple tire that wore like iron.  I never rode any myself, but I did have a pair of Czech-made “Barum” tires that I rode, literally, to the tubes:  Not even the best stuff from Clement, Vittoria, Wolber, Michelin, Continental or Soyo (Yes, I rode tires from every one of those companies!) was anywhere near as good.  Ten Kowalits --or, I presume, Barums-- could fetch a good wheelset.

Of course, such deals had to be made “in the shadows”, and certainly not after the race.  Can you imagine what some East German would have offered (if indeed he or she had anything to offer) for my old Colnago?