I rode the 620 fairly aggressively. We used to do tours with a youth group, and even with camping stuff strapped to the bike, every hill was contested. The hills with names weren't too bad since they weren't all that steep, but those things between a half mile and 3 miles in New York or Maine invariably ended in a full on sprint. The tooth design of the helicomatic appeared to allow a half shift (a lot like the Sturmey neutral), and you'd have to come all the way off the power, get the wretched chain re-engaged, and then bring the effort back on. The PG nature of the epithets I hurled at French engineers was offset by the decibels, and I will not be surprised to learn that "Stinking French!" is still echoing in remote glens between Cleveland and Halifax - even now, some 20 years later.

I had the rim relaced to a Suntour hub the next year, and while the frame still whipped around like something Italian and al-dente, it mostly stayed in gear. I was 25 before I figured out that most people didn't tour that way, and a compliant frame is no bad thing. To its credit, it did descend utterly without drama.

The lowly 410 retains a particularly warm spot in my memories.