Sometimes we need a little break from the craziness of politics and current events. This is the story of how I found the Holy Grail.
Okay, I’m a huge nerd from way back so of course I’ve seen Monty Python and Holy Grail about a million times. In college my nerdy friends and I would go around quoting lines from it to each other.
However in this case I’m talking about the holy grail of cycling, or at least French touring bikes.
You see, I was bored one day and decided to look at the cycling section on ebay.fr (French ebay). A quick search for “vélo ancien” and next thing I know I’m staring slack-jawed in disbelief.
There it was, a vintage René Herse touring bike, in near perfect condition.
“Too good to be true” I thought. These things are never in my size. They were either built for some giant or a tiny, petit woman.
No way it would fit me……...oh wait…….it’s a 54 cm frame, which just so happens to be what I ride.
Now a little bit of background. René Herse (pronounced “airs” not “hearse” by the way) is considered to be one of the greatest “constructeurs” (custom bike builders) that ever lived. To say that his bikes are sought after would an understatement. This would be like finding an original Van Gogh in a barn somewhere. Prior to this point I had only seen pictures of them in books.
Time to consult Mrs. Kong. The price wasn’t bad actually. Not cheap, but I have more expensive bikes than what the seller was asking. This is where most spouses would probably say “What do you need another bike for?” but mine said “You should totally buy it. If you don’t you’ll always regret it.”
So, a couple weeks later a large box with French shipping labels showed up on my doorstep. Inside was a bike, in pieces.
The seller did a really good job of packaging, but the front fender suffered a crease during shipping and some paint was chipped off the bottom of the downtube. Otherwise it made the trip from France just fine.
I dare say I’m a good bike builder. I can do everything except weld my own frame. That I leave to the pros. I was afraid to mess with this one, however. A man has to know his limitations. I took the box of parts to my local bike shop, who I’ve had a relationship with for over 20 years. He’s the only person I would trust beside myself to assemble this bike.
What can I say about it other than it’s beautiful. By the looks of it, this bike was well used but also well cared for.
The rear fender sports a “Federation Francais de Cyclotourisme” sticker. Included with the bike was a “Club des 100 Cols” pin, which signifies that the owner rode at least 100 mountain passes. I don’t know where this bike has been but I suspect it’s been all over France and maybe Europe.
René died in 1976 and his daughter Lily (who was a famous bike racer in her own right) kept the shop going along with his frame builder. They built their last bikes around 1985-86 timeframe.
I don’t know the exact date this bike was built, but would say it’s one of the last ones made before the shop closed in 1985. It doesn’t have the characteristic René Herse stem and sports a TA crankset instead of René Herse crankset. I have a book dedicated to these bikes and there is a picture of a bike from 1983 that has similar components.
The bike has some very unique features like a rubber chain-stay protector. First time I’ve ever seen something like that. It has “Mafac” inscribed on it.
The lights are powered by a Shimano “Dynapower” generator attached to the bottom bracket. The wiring to the taillight was badly corroded and will need to be redone when I can get to it. Local bike shop guy was afraid to touch the electrics but I’m really good at that sort of thing.
This clever little setup controls the Dynapower generator. Flipping this little shift lever moves the generator into contact with the rear tire. The cable is cleverly routed through the seat tube. It’s little touches like that which set these bikes apart.
I took it out on one of the local bike trails and did twenty miles on it. For a forty year old bike it rides beautifully. It’s tight. No squeaks, no rattles, no noises whatsoever, except for my crappy shifting skills. The Huret derailleurs and I are still in the “getting acquainted with each other” stage.
I have a set of Simplex shifters like this on my Vitus 992 and in my opinion they’re the smoothest working friction shifters I’ve ever used. I hate to say it, but they work a lot better than the vintage Campagnolo shifters I have on another bike.
The vintage leather saddle is very well broken in and quite comfortable.
The bike is quite stable and handles well. The drop of the handlebars seems a bit “aggressive” for a touring bike but as long as I keep my hands in the randonneur position (where the bar just starts to curve) it’s comfortable.
I weighed it at exactly 30 pounds, which is good for a bike like this. It’s not particularly fast. I don’t know what the exact gearing is, but I can tell it was optimized for carrying a touring load up a mountain rather than top speed. In the tallest gear I “spin out” around 20 mph. The bike seems quite happy at 14-15 mph, which is my normal touring pace.
Next step will be to find some hills and see how it climbs. I suspect it will do quite well.
It’s a privilege to own a piece of cycling history like this. Rest assured it will be ridden. These bikes weren’t built to sit around and collect dust.
Hopefully you enjoyed this little break from the post-apocalyptic hellscape that is the news these days. Time to go ride!