onionbagblog

Honey - I’ve sold the bike …but I’ve gone and bought another one.

Bugger.

There was just something so utterly irresistible about the aesthetics of the bonkers customised multi-coloured Moutlon bicycle. I can’t say whom it was customised for exactly, but now the baton has been handed over to me, and the bicycle is in my hands. I’m half expecting to discover a big bag of weed statched away in the rear saddlebag.

That’s the beauty of putting some fancy artwork on your F-frame - it’s a genuine DIY ethos, and anything goes. If Damien Hirst can paint butterflies on @lancearmstrong’s Le Tour bike, then a Moulton with fancy paintwork and four horns is all right by me.

All the better that I managed to bag the bike for a cheeky £63.

“Would you accept a cash offer of £100 to close the sale early?”

I asked the eBay seller, with twenty-four hours of bidding remaining.

“No chance,”

came back the reply.

Donchta just love the Invisible Hand and the free market?

Riding bicycles should be about fun. You could never be accused of not having a sense of humour, cycling around on a multi-coloured coloured Moulton that looks like a cross between Joseph and his Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat and Quadrophenia. I don’t know whether I should ride it, or enter the bike in a comedy open mic slot.

The fragrant mrs onionbagblogger has given it the name of My Big Gay Bike, and with good reason as well. The social history of the machine is that it was previously owned by an incredibly camp old Queen about town.

You don’t say.

If the rainbow mudguards weren’t enough of a giveaway, then the phallic penis colour painted bike pump would have confirmed the campness. Plus I bet underneath all that rainbow symbolism, the original colour of the F frame was probably… pink.

There are some slight mechanicals to be sorted out before the multi-coloured Moulton is road worthy. My man at the Moulton Preservation Society will no doubt be up for the challenge, once he has managed to take the machine seriously.

I’m not sure if Mr MPS will view the bicycle as a blatant act of sabotage, or something to be celebrated. I know which camp I fall in.

But when to ride the multi-coloured Moulton? I’m looking forward to showing it off on the school run; I think some of the bike snobs over at le velo might not be so understanding as the kids from SE17.

Hopefully it will prove to be bike thief scum proof. I’ve had a decent run of late. I reckon the parts are actually worth more individually than the overall sum, in a strange, twisted fate of bicycling economics. The saddlebags alone are sold on eBay for around £40.

The once act of vandalism that I had to undertake was to rip off the floral covers adorning both back and front saddle backs. These were camper than a fortnight away with the Boy’s Brigade in a communal tent down in Brighton.

And so if you see an exhibitionist bicycling around town on the multi-coloured Moulton, please raise your hand with a welcoming Chapeau!

I think I’ve just blown my bicycling anonymity.

And so following an illuminating morning spent over in Chelsea in the front room workshop of the Moutlon Preservation Society at the start of the month, I was walking the mean streets of SW10 once again this week, en route for a rendez vous with my wonderful reconditioned machine.

Restoring Moulton’s is a labour of love for Mr MPS. It’s an infectious pastime, and one that is hard not to get caught up in the crossfire with. What was initially a relatively simple replacement of the rear rubber suspension unit, soon became something of a complete rebuild.

This was nothing to do with Mr MPS and his touting for business. Far from it. The man with the Moutlon spanner has a steady backlog of old bicycles to be restored. All work is undertaken on a not for profit basis. Nope, it was simply a case of being entrapped in his Aladdin’s Cave of cycling greatness, as I kept on adding new jobs to the workload.

My justification was that I might as well go for the complete overhaul during one journey. Pleasant though it was walking from Sunny Stockwell over to Chelsea to pick up the machine, it’s not something I want to make a regular habit of.

So…

Here’s the complete billet:

Remove and replace rear forks with sprayed and lacquered replacements

Replace rear rubber suspension unit with new unit

Replace rear pivot bolt

Replace drive chain with new chain and half link

Fit chainweel guard

Reset gears and rear brake

Reset brake and gear lever at handlebars, to access first gear.

Phew.

All carried out with great kindness, a smile at all times and an incredibly reasonable price. Don’t forget we’re talking about a bicycle that is almost half a century old here. Pulling it apart and putting it back together is not as simple as hacking away on a crappy Halfords frame.

Oh, and just to prove that I’m not a total spanner, I managed to fit the road saddle myself. I wanted something slightly more rigid, to give a ying to the yang of the dual suspension.

I took great pleasure in bicycling off to Somewhere in SE17 on my Moulton Mk II this morning. I turned a few heads during the short commute, and I don’t think that was down to my rugged good looks either.

The addition of the cream coloured Moulton original chain guard completes the makeover. It is indeed the missing cog in the chain, supplementing the symmetry provided by the two wheels, and keeping in the same colour scheme as the grips and rear rack.

I’m all set now to roll out with the Moultoneers. Richmond Park is the location a week on Monday for the Moulton Preservation Society summer picnic. I’m sure that’s a podcast waiting to happen.

All I need now is a restored front rack to carry my provisions on. Fifty-four of your finest English pounds, according to Mr eBay on Thursday evening. Cripes. Looks like there’s still something of a restoration job to be carried out, before the work is finally complete.

Chapeau!

Classic bicycling pr0n ahoy.

A lovely Monday morning spent with Mr Moulton Preservation Society, down by the river at Chelsea. As the name suggests, Mr MPS spends his spare time preserving Moultons. The classic bicycle design is a model worthy of preservation, but with the original Deluxe models now approaching their half-century, sourcing parts is often a problem.

My Moulton Deluxe developed a slight fault with the rear suspension. The back suspension block came unhinged, leaving the bicycle frame in two parts, a forerunner of the folding Brompton that was to come.

This all sounds more severe than it actually is. The bicycle has almost fifty years of road service, and so a slight suspension issue wasn’t going to ground the old girl.

I booked in an appointment with the secretive Mr MPS. As one would expect when dealing with a preserver of classic bicycles, pen and paper correspondence is the preferred medium.

I took a leisurely ride along the banks of the river from Vauxhall down to Chelsea, and then met up with the man who has dedicated twenty-five years of his like to looking after other people’s Moultons.

It’s a genuine labour of love for Mr MPS, with the very generous costs only covering parts. He identified the problem instantly, with some reassurance that this was a *shhh* slight design fault in a bicycle which otherwise is deemed to be the paragon of pedal perfection.

Problem and job sorted, it was then time to take in the wonders of the workshop of Mr MPS. Keeping in with the family feel of Moulton culture, the workspace is also Mr MPS’s front room. I don’t think the fragrant mrs onionbagblogger would be so understanding if I extended the storage space for my fleet from out of the kitchen into a second room.

Deluxe models are the speciality of Mr MPS. He also very kindly offered to fit a cream chain guard to match my original grips. He gave good advice about investing in an older seat, one that is more rigid on your backside, so that you can feel the full benefits of the original Moulton suspension.

It was here onwards when it started to get really interesting. We stripped the bike down inch-by-inch, taking great care to examine what had gone before. The social history of my Moulton is a project that apparently is worthy of further investigation.

For a forty-four year-old bike, I’m still running the original Dunlop tyres. The grip is slightly worn, but still sufficient. This suggests that the bike has seen little road action over the past half century.

The suspension though is an issue. Whatever action the old girl has been through, it has been rather thorough, possibly even off-road. There was evidence of a partial paint-job, something that I hadn’t picked up on previously, such was the skill under which it was carried out.

Every bicycle tells a story. Here’s hoping that my Moulton has another half century of tales waiting to be told.

Chapeau!