Congratulations on winning this interesting bike! I was in the bidding for a while..hoped that the price wouldn't go beyond $250/euros, but then saw that it still had a long way to go.
My interest was sparked by the fact that it was the first full Automoto I had seen on Ebay...but then as the price rose I realised that I had just the same frameset lurking somewhere in my store, and also most of the equipment apart from the unusual pattern chainset to build it up with.
Automoto was a very large manufacturer based in St Etienne, but with a "succursal" in Paris,. They were very well known for their range on motorbikes too. As well as sponsoring those early winners of the T-d-F already mentioned on the List, Automoto still sponsored a Pro team until the 50s..and I think the company closed down in the late 60s/early 70s. That is one of the questions I am currently researching, along with details of Alcyon.
The first complete Automoto I ever saw was as recently as two years ago. The emerald green lady's twin lateral-framed bike was leaning up against the rough limestone-cobbled wall of an archway supporting the house above, as the river Drome, close-by, twinkled passsed in the brilliant golden summer sunshine, whose rays drove intense shafts of light through the cooling canopy of plain tree leaves surrounding the little gravel-surfaced market place of Saillans, from which small plumes of dust rose, highlighted by the rays, as would-be "clients-acheteurs" shuffled from one stall of the flea market to the other, looking for bargains.
The bike was immaculate and gleaming..even down to the twin aluminium tool boxes suspended from the bike's rear carrier, each box proudly bearing the Automoto clover leaf emblem embossed in its lid. I peered closer to identify the cantilevers on the forks and stays as they were very reminiscent of ones I had seen on a Herse...
My wife sensed my interest...but I soothed her by suggesting that the bike wasn't for sale..but had just brought a customer to the market. no sooner were the words out of my mouth than a lady sitting nearby attending to a display of no-longer-needed housewares, all balanced expertly on a couple of fragile trestle tables, all hopefully just waiting for a bargain seeker to whisk them away to a new life in a new kitchen, advised me politely that the "velo est vendu"..the bike was sold.
I was surprised that anyone would wish to part with such an elegant and immaculate machine and told her so in no uncertain words "Mon Dieu!", but she hastened to tell me that it has been bought for her 17th birthday in 1963, that it had served her well...and sadly that she no longer needed it. She was pleased to have found a new home for it..that she hadn't had to take it to the "dechetterie" - the local tip/skip..and that she was even more pleased with the 30 euros that a Dutchman had offered for it.
My eyes glanced at the gleaming tool boxes, lingered lovingly on the Herse-type cantilevers..."Soixante balles" (sixty euros) I offered. "Non, Monsieur...c'est vendu.." "Cent balles (100 euros)" I countered. "Impossible...Monsieur! C'est vendu"
I carefully attempted to explain my love for her old bike, and that I really would like to have it, to keep it and look after it, that it was worth more than the measly 30 euros..and that I would return later to see if the Dutchman had kept his part of the deal.
The Provencal sun was dropping gently behind the plain trees as I returned at about six that evening..and sellers and buyers alike, happy with their days trading were already adjourning to the terrasses of nearby cafes, where they sat, glasses of wine in hand, casting their eyes around fertively in case a last minute bargain were there to be had.
But that same sun that had glinted on and embellished the Automoto's emerald green- enamelled tubes, now just fell on the bare limestone cobbles of the arch..the space now empty...the Flying Dutchman had flown in..and out ...taking the Automoto with him back to the lowlands.
The last words that I heard before rushing off to check out a "velo de course" that I had just spotted, leaning up against the trunk of a plain tree at the other side of the square, possibly, just possibly a last minute bargain to appease my loss of the Automoto, were "C'est vendu, Monsieur..c'est parti". But I didn't go home that evening empty handed nor with the boot of my car completely void of French bikes..
Norris Lockley.."Who said that Nostalgia is not what it used to be?."..Settle Uk