TL;DR Mid-range, 1980s Italian bikes

During the last 15 years or so of my almost daily commuting career, before retirement, I went through a succession of mid-level European bikes. Their social status lay near the bottom of my bike herd pecking order, relegated to lousy weather without snow. As it turns out, we get a lot of that here in Vermont. I sought out bikes that were dirt cheap to buy, but which had good geometry for fast riding, which came in handy the many, many times I was running late. Down tube (eventually) indexed 7-speed with quality, but older mid-range components, brake cables flying out the top of the hoods. The commute was 18 miles each way, with a quarter of that on dirt roads. I needed to be able to squeeze in fenders and always mounted a rack, as I preferred paniers over a backpack and often carried heavy loads. I wanted something I didn't have to lock up when making quick stops at a store, so they were always fun, but homely riding partners.

I started with an Italian Bianchi from the mid-80s, made of their Formular tubing, which apparently was whatever Columbus stuff they could get a deal on that week. When that one got too rusty (it had a head start) I replaced it with a mid-range Atala, ironically made of Tullio tubing. I always thought that Rizatti and Campagnolo had been business chums, but perhaps it's the same type of Italian logic at work that had Tullio naming his cheapest, stamped steel derailleur after his son. Tullio tubing was thin-walled, non-butted, seamed carbon steel stuff, but the brazing was quite decent, and the geometry was spot-on. I brazed on eyelets and had to deflate the tire to get the wheel in, but the ride and handling of that bike went a long way towards changing my beliefs about the importance of tubing selection, which had largely been the result of decades reading bicycle magazines and drinking manufacturers' Kool Aid.

When the Atala got just too ugly to ride, I rebuilt the bike with another mid-level Bianchi frame, and after a couple years I replaced that with a 1984 Bianchi Nuovo Racing, the first of the Bianchis in the series that was not celeste, but whose factory red paint was in good shape and looked decent, stripped of decals, further serving the no-lock criteria. I spun up over 25,000 on that one before riding it home from my last day of productive career work before retiring. As could only be fitting, it was pouring rain as I turned into my driveway and I glanced over to see if the dog was still in his deluxe doghouse, forgetting that I had left my truck in the long driveway. Too late I slammed on the brakes when the chrome bumper appeared out of the deluge, and I smacked right into it, bending the fork blades and stretching the head tube. After evaluation, I realized that the blades had taken almost all the damage, so I clamped a hub into the fork, laid a 2 x 4 behind it and, easy as you please pulled the blades back straight again. I pulled the fork to check it in a fork jig and the mismatched head cups fell out, so I put them back in with JB Weld. The repair worked like a charm and I continued to ride that bike for another year before I picked up a mid-level Japanese bike from around 1980, which has better geometry for the less-rushed use I now put it too, but which is nice enough looking that I now lock it up outside a store on errands--usually.

I've since purchased a slightly earlier Nuovo Racing frame, also of Columbus main tubes and mystery metal forks and stays, which will eventually be built up with the evolved component selection from the old "Poop Bike." I'm debating on whether or not to change it from its drab color to celeste, now that the no-lock factor isn't such a big deal any more. At that time, I'll find a new owner for my competent but unexciting Shimano 600EX Japanese bike. These mid-range Bianchis and Atalas don't appear to have been built by 'dedicated craftsmen pouring out their passion for racing bikes with every stroke of the file.' I suspect the workers who built them were more like those who filled the Trek factory back in the 1980s, where the Wisconsin parking lot was filled with full-size pickups and Harleys. But these often overheated Italian frames seem to have something in their DNA that makes them just plain fun to ride, and well worth the 50 dollar entry fee.