What a wonderful message, Harvey! It reminds me how difficult it has been for me to decide just what it is I find most attractive in a vintage bike.
I know I stand in awe when 'time capsule' machines surface, like John's wrapped Masis, and like you I do wonder for a moment what joy they might have missed out on, partnered with a considerate and devoted rider for a period of years. On the other hand, they might have been purchased by someone with more money than sense, abused and left to rust, eventually doomed to a wasteland beyond the interest of even the most determined restoration artist.
At the other extreme, I also find beauty in the totally unrestored but obviously loved machines that one sees from time to time, fraught with personal touches and an attempt to keep them lubed and running, but with obvious signs of age and even rust. An extreme example that I found totally mesmerizing was an old steed exhibited at Cupertino in 2003 that I believe was a Binachi (it had an integrated headset but no decals visible in the photos I saw). It had cantilever brakes, and components that had been drilled and milled and sculpted beyond what anyone would think possible. How many hours, I would be afraid to guess... each component was like a piece of jewelry. I could only describe the frame as a mess, albeit a charming one. The pale blue paint was faded and worn away in many places and amazingly, bare metal showed where brazeons had been added but no paint to cover the wounds. Time and wear had aged the rust to a very smooth and silky brown, like a beautiful old chisel or plane. Rust on a fine bicycle? Sacrilege to be sure, but for some reason it added even more to this bike's charm, much the way one would welcome the sight of two deep depressions in each stair tread of a very old house, or the raw spots on a vintage bomber jacket. I'd still love to know who owns this bike.
In between are the bikes most of us own... some we bought new and have cherished for years, others are reclaimed from ruin and brought back to life. Like many of us, I struggle with how far to go in restoring one of these old machines. I admire those, like Richard, who have gone to incredible lengths to create a work art equal to, and in some cases superior to, the original. His two Masis are wonderful... but unrideable, at least I cound not bring myself to ride them (and I guess Richard can't bring himself to either). Is there anything wrong with that? Of course not... some history is worth preserving, and though I think there are few sights more beautiful than old warbirds flying, I completely understand when someone spends several million dollars restoring a P-38 and decides not to take it up because there are so few left.
My own Masi is covered with rust spots and fine scratches... I don't know if I'd go so far as to say that it has been abused, but it certainly shows ample evidence of the thirty plus years it has traveled. What should I do? I have agonized over this since bringing it home from Cirque. The decals are in almost unbelievably good shape given the condition of the rest of the frame... so I don't think there is anyone in the world who could talk me into a repaint, though I know many who would find this perfectly acceptable.
I've recently seen some photos of an amazing restoration Brian did (also a Masi Special) where he masked around each and every decal in order to do a repaint yet preserve the bike's original markings. The job he did was so intricate and detailed, one can only marvel at his skill. This would certainly work for my bike... I'd have a frame that is clean and bright, with something left of the old. But I hesitate. I wonder about the origin of each of those spots and scratches and if covering them up is not a bit like plastic surgery and hair dye... are not a few stretch marks or grey hairs signs of a life well-lived, of children raised, of experiences to be cherished?
Now I'm thinking of a Bianchi again... this time a beautiful black 1961 Specialissima that was on Ebay six months ago and belonged, I think, to a listmember in Louisiana or Texas. The components were shiny and pristine... it looked like a new bike from a few feet off, and everything just gleamed in the filtered sunlight of the front yard it was photographed in. Step closer and one began to see the bike's age in a fragmented rim decal or the slightly worn Bianchi crest on the seat tube. Closer still, one could see numerous blemishes in the paint. Someone had lovingly touched up each and every scratch with a brush. Yes, they could have been sanded and rubbed out and become almost invisible... and with the overall level of care the bike had received elsewhere, I could not believe this had been left undone because of any lack of time or expertise on the owner's part. So of course my sentimental nature led me to believe that the blemishes had been left visible as marks of honor, evidence of the long path the bike had taken to arrive in that sunny front yard.
Maybe I need to do something similar with my Masi... mix some paint to a careful match and have at it. Cover the rust and scratches carefully, maybe even level the paint on the worst of them. Leave the fragment of that bike shop decal from Fidenza that probably closed its doors decades ago. Get it looking as nice as I possibly can and then just go for a ride and see if the bike has retained any memories she'd like to share with me.
So perhaps I have finally found what I consider most beautiful in a vintage bike... clean and shiny components with a bit of wear, a saddle with deep lustrous patina, paint that is cared for but please, not perfect. Let me see the marks of both care and age, the yin and yang of any object that fulfills its intended purpose well, in the hands of a grateful owner.
Bob Hovey Columbus, GA
In a message dated 11/27/2004 7:18:42 AM Eastern Standard Time, classicrendezvous-request@bikelist.org writes: Through the long discussion about Martanos (which I can't remember ever seeing, much less using), I kept wondering, but didn't get around to asking, "Are they any good?" Thanks, gentlemen, for helping me understand that they have the charm of Stalinist waiters...More than a bit obsolete, and no fun to deal with. But, I write not to atta-boy, but to react to Chuck's comment:
"I'm only impressed with an "as it came out of the box" bike, if it actually did _just_ come out of a box like John Barron's Masi. I'm less impressed with a restoration that iscomplete down to the original less than stellar OEM parts."
Funny how attitudes on this vary. To me, a 30 year old "just out of the box" bike can have both mojo and funk (although I only am competent to judge the latter), but there is also a wistfulness, that this is a bike that never got to serve its function of bringing pleasure by being ridden, but has only the compensation of offering a pristine view of a past time. Nice, but static.
On the other hand, I've gotten a lot of pleasure, on a modest budget, unwinding the resultsof decades of modernization and change to equip bikes as they were when new. My Cinelli has truly awful paint, but I've brought it back to how it might have been when new, and this brings satisfaction. It's now a grizzled vet, but with one kind of integrity that I value.
And then, there are restorations like e-Ritchie's Masis, which shows awesome attention to detail, to getting the bike back to in-the-box condition. A true just-out-of-the-box is either a lucky find, or a triumph of the wallet. Ritchie's class of restoration is the result of hard work, patience, time, and a not inconsequential commitment to spending.
But, if Chuck was referring to "over the top" restorations with thick, wet-look paint on bikes for which it is inappropriate, I'm with him all the way. These, from some fine shops, sometimes strike me as sad.
Harvey Sachs
McLean VA