The Old Master

Pictures are cool but they don't always take the place of words. I've been a little lax about writing (and a blog is all about writing) thus I sidled up to the keyboard tonight to see what I could do.

Several weeks ago Ting decided to take a weekend shift. I got up early on Saturday to drive her to work and later go shopping with Zoe at our local farmers market. On the way to Patagonia I couldn't help but to notice several handwritten garage sale signs posted up and down Mayberry Avenue. The fluorescent neon poster board lured me in like a moth to a floodlight. After dropping Ting off at 7:45am I couldn't help but to backtrack my route and turn down a side street to the see what goodies awaited.

"Where we going Daddy?" "Why we stopping?" Zoe had no idea why I'd want to go to garage sale. True be known, I'd hit three or four garage sales over the course of the summer. My goal was to find a used road bike to fix up into a winter beater bike. By 8:10am I'd hit the jackpot!

The garage sale was run by a man in his late 40's who was selling off most of his elderly father's junk. In the corner of the yard was a bright yellow, early 1970's ten-speed road bike. I wandered over trying not to show too much interest. There was no price on the bike. A little closer inspection revealed a nice hand filed lugged steel frame that was close to the size I needed. "How much for the bike?" I sheepishly asked the guy running the sale. "Twenty dollars, It's a good bike that my dad used to ride around Europe for a summer". The man's voice had a defensive tone that seemed as if he was somehow trying to justify the extravagant cost of the cobweb covered bike. The price made my heart skip a beat. The bike was a Witcomb racing frame. Witcomb is an old brand made by a small shop in England. Later I learned that Ernie Witcomb had been building bicycles since 1949 and several had been raced by world champions over the years. "I'll take it" I said and whipped out my wallet.

Later on in the day, while Zoe was napping I crept into the garage to more closely inspect my purchase. Soon the cranks and brakeset were off and soaking in mineral spirits. Everything down to the ball bearings looked relatively unused. The only real flaw I could find was a small crack in the paint where the downtube met the headtube. Undeterred I stripped the rest of the parts off and polished up my newfound steed.

Over the next week I got in touch with local legend Roland Della Santa. Back in the 70's and 80's Roland was one of the premier bicycle framebuilders in the United States. He built bikes for Greg LeMond in the late 80's when he first went over to Europe. Roland only builds 30 to 40 frames each year. He works only with steel and does not dabble with "throw away" materials like aluminum and carbon fiber. Roland's bikes are like buying a classic Ferrari or a vintage wine. When he agreed to take a look at the crack in the Witcomb I jumped at the opportunity to visit him.

A visit to Roland's workshop was like a visit to any find craftsman's workspace. The shop was cluttered with brazing torches, milling machines, a sandblast cabinet and several bicycle frames in various stages of evolution. Old Campagnolo parts boxes lay on a workbench and boxes of Columbus steel tubing lined metal rack. A dusty Masi sat in a clamp waiting to be ridden again. It was cluttered yet comfortable. A place where a man could work alone on his passion. In a garage space sat an older Porsche and outside a VW bus in the process of being restored.

Roland immediately recognized the lug patterns and began giving me an oral history of bicycle framebuilding over the past three decades. He used his torch to burn off the old paint to expose the flaw in the Witcomb. The crack was a hairline flaw in the lug and could easily be filled with brass to strengthen the join. After several hours of discussion about cycling history and framebuilding Roland told me to call him tomorrow, as the frame would be ready.

The next day I met Ting at Zoe's daycare and carpooled over to Roland's house to see the frame. Roland was busy cooking supper and met us at the gate in his back yard. He raced back into his workshop and came back with my frame. The paint has been blasted off and the crack has been brazed and filed down. The only hint of the flaw was the shiny yellow brass against the gray steel tubes. Roland had made it possible that this frame would ride again. When I asked him how much he said it was a buck a minute so $10 would do it. I gave him a twenty dollar bill and told him to keep the change. Workmanship like that is slowly being lost in this world and I felt lucky to have met the man and seen him in action. Roland then proceeded to show Ting and I his prized San Marzano tomatoes that he was cooking down his dinner. He picked a half dozen ripe ones and asked that we try them out. With my bike in one hand and Ting carrying a bag of tomatoes we left Roland feeling indebted to the man. My garage sale purchase was turning into quite an adventure… (To be continued)

More on Witcomb
Picts of my bike
More on Della Santa