I wish it could talk

I like things with a history;  a story to tell.  They're usually so much more interesting than some brand new purchase.  If you remember the Peugeot bike rebuild I wrote about recently then you'll know what I'm on about.

Anyway, just recently I rebuilt another bike of mine from the 1980s.  And this one has a history that'll put the Peugeot (interesting as it was) in the shade.  Totally!

The frame was hand built to measure by a now deceased frame builder in Birmingham called "Major Nichols".  The Major was a legendary frame builder producing some really lovely stuff.

My dad bought the frame for me as a 21st birthday present in 1985.  It cost him £130 - quite a lot of money back in the mid 1980s.  It was finished in a deep navy blue with white and gold transfers and I built it up with components I saved hard to buy.

a lovely looking bike.  the rider less so!

I then raced on the frame for 4 seasons before packing in cycling for a while.  It was a lovely bike to ride and to look at.

Sadly though, the bike was stolen from my parents' garage in 1990 by some local scum.  I detest thieves in a big way.  How can you just take something that someone worked hard for and cherished without a second thought?  It sickens me.

Fast forward a year and I was moving into my first home.  While driving a van loaded with stuff to my new house, I passed someone riding along on a very nice looking bike.  My bike!  My Major Nichols!

I stopped the van, and stopped my bike.  Bundling it and the rider into the van I went back to my parents' house and phoned the police.  I'd technically made a citizen's arrest!  

Unbelievable, I know; like, oh I don't know, a world leader wishing an accused sex trafficker well.

So, after the police arrived, I'd proved that the bike was mine beyond doubt, the culprit explained that he found my bike in a river and they believed him and let him go (now, that is a story worth telling one day), they took my new found bike straight back off me!  In fairness, as my parents' insurance company had paid out, the bike technically belonged to them.

the rebuilt machine

Luckily, for me, the manager of the local branch of the insurers was a member of my cycling club, and I as able to buy the bike back from them at a very reasonable price - far less than the actual value of the bike.

I couldn't though face riding it as it was.  It felt dirty and violated and so I had it resprayed and built it up with vintage Campagnolo equipment.  It never felt the same though and eventually I stripped the bike down and sold the parts.  But as my now deceased dad had bought me the frame, I couldn't part with it and it was left hanging up in my garage getting increasingly rusty and beaten up.

Until that is "lockdown".  After building up my Peugeot, the bug for retro bikes bit me hard and so I set about sourcing the original parts the bike had back in 1985 - Shimano 600.

The bike is now totally rebuilt with period bits as close to the original specification as I could get; and it's pretty darn close.

Except for one thing.  The frame's finish.  I pondered getting it resprayed in its original colour-way, but resisted the temptation.  I feel that leaving it as it is is far more appropriate to its history.  The rust, dents and patina all tell a story.  A story of a bike frame that if it could talk, I'm sure would say that it needs a rest!