Richard Sachs Cycles

[WFSTEKL]

I've always looked at that damn cassette as a man's life. Indicative to his age but in dog years. So, I rejoice every time Campagnolo adds another cog.

What uses five cogs in the morning, eight cogs in the afternoon, and thirteen cogs in the evening?

[WFSTEKL]

Richard, that was a damn good essay.

[e-RICHIE]

This made me.

Hello Richard,

Your amazing creation is still going strong at 44 years old. It is practically unchanged since I assembled it in 1976, when I was 19 years old. These photos were taken on my farm in Harwinton CT., just this week. Yesterday I rode 25 miles on the Farmington Canal Rail/Trail with two of my daughters, aged 23 and 29. They understand that my bike means a lot to me, as I point out the workmanship that never fails to impress me. When I ride the trail, they know I am always looking for a quality steel frame that I can point out to them. Sadly, there is mostly the abundance of Trek and Giant carbon and aluminum frames. I find no beauty in these bikes. Like you have said, 'they are manufactured, not made'. My daughter rides a small Chas Roberts bike from the early 80's, with full Campy Record gear. I point out where this frame is very good, but yours is better. They see the differences.

I am now 64 and retired from many years working in aerospace mfg., at one time a manufacturing engineer of finely made components. My love of bicycles as a teen drew me to that profession. I understand every nuance of metallurgy, in both the frame materials and the components. Although the frames you produce today are superior to mine, I view my own bike as an elegant work of perfection. The simplicity of the Nervex lugs, and gently sloping sloping fork crown have never left me wishing for more. One would think at my age I would be beyond getting emotional about frame symmetry and the beauty of lugs. However, I find myself looking at these photos for a long time. There are no carbon fiber fiber components or sealed bearings. It was a different era. I tell people that in the 70's, you could not produce a better bike. I prefer to keep it 'period correct'.

It was at the 1975 show in New York that I came upon your small display. You had no flashy banners or advertising media, yet I was immediately drawn to your work. Your frames had unimpressive paint, no chrome, pin-striping, cutouts, and only a one color offering. My friends were drawn to the other big names like Colnago and Masi. Still, after conferring with these friends and coworkers from our shop in New Rochelle, I convinced them that your frames were the most impressive I had seen, for their simple elegance.

I didn't even have a picture of your frames, only at little trifold pamphlet. The image of your work was fixed in my memory. Folks today don't appreciate that we grew up in an era without Google to call up images. The library was no help with this either. I promised myself to one day have one of your frames. This commitment came from perhaps twenty minutes of first seeing your work, and never having any endorsement, or reference. A few months later I had a collision with a taxi cab on my commute to the shop, destroying my Motobecane Grand Jubile. Within a few days I reached out to you to build the bike I have loved ever since.

At 19, this was to be my 'forever' bike. I worked in bike shops all throughout college years, repairing all manner of inferior quality bikes. I wanted this bike to be special, and perfect. Being in the trade afforded me the opportunity to purchase wholesale and I bought a 1975 full Campy Groupo for $265. This was a bargain even then. When that carton of tan boxes arrived with the stripes and the Campagnolo script, I was like a kid in a candy shop, constantly unboxing and playing with each item. All totaled, the bike cost me about $750, but remember at that time I was clearing only about $100 per week, and could set aside only about $70 for my dream bike. It took me several months of 1976 to save enough. I selected DT spokes and Mavic rims, and laced these wheels 40 'plus' years ago and have never broken a spoke. The saddle dates to 1972, when I, like you, bought an Atala Grand Prix. They were popular at the time. I quickly started replacing components, realizing that most of it was junk. That started my love of bicycles, and subsequently working in shops.

In my 20's, I rode this bike three times across Europe, outfitted with fifty pounds of gear. This has never been an ornamental bike, relegated to hanging in a shop and never loved. To pass it on from from one owner to another would be a betrayal of the joy it has given me over the years, not just in riding, but gazing in admiration at its beauty. It's like owning a rare musical instrument that will never be sold. I wonder if you had any idea that the frame you made in 1976 would still be actively ridden in 2020, by the same original owner. To me, that notion would be incomprehensible. There is a legacy at work here. It is more than just metal tubes and components. When I ride this bike, it transports me back in time. But, I am riding with my grown girls today. It is magical. Perhaps someday I can pass it down to right person who will fully appreciate it, ride it often, and safeguard it for generations to come.

With much appreciation,

------ ----

[claritycycler]

This made me.

This is a very cool story, I see why the letter made your day, a real beauty.

[Ras72]

Wow! A good reminder (if one is needed) of why people celebrate the opportunity to jump on the queue.
I speak from experience. And long to make a similar story.

Thanks for sharing Richie.

[Marvinlungwitz]

I was wondering about the age of the foam grips. But apparently they’re still around to purchase:

https://porkchopbmx.com/grab-on-maxi...e-grips-black/

Some on Amazon, too.

[e-RICHIE]

Maybe twice each week my rides take me south along the shoreline. It’s an area that’s flatter and more open. Where I can stay seated longer. There are fewer trees and wider skies. So much of cycling is about tan lines. Mine is.

For the last few years I’ve been collecting seashells. To the point of obsession. It must go back to my childhood when I summered in Belmar. These rides allow me a chance to grab some. The Long Island Sound isn’t the Atlantic.

The shells are different here. But like anything that nature serves, one can’t rate them. The shapes and textures are what they are. Colors too. Each time I’m on the shoreline I fill one of my three back pockets until it bulges.

It’s a bit funny. There are beaches that dot the area for many miles, but only two I hit when I want to add to my collection. Odd, but they both share the same name, Private Beach. It sounds like an oxymoron. A coincidence?

At Private Beach (either of them, both of them) I have a routine. I drop the bicycle in the sand, walk around for 10 minutes, and look for cool shells. Some see me coming and say, “Take me.” Others I notice, then kneel, and pick up.

Part of the ritual is this. Before I leave I find a spot in the sand and, with my finger, write my mom’s name. Then next to it I draw a heart. Then I press my right hand in and make an imprint. And I place the most lovely shell next to this.

When I’m done, I stand up, look at the sand, and say, “I love you Bobbe.” There’s never anyone around when I’m at Private Beach. These moments give me a timeout from life to remember who gave me mine. Then I leave.

All This By Hand

[Andrew R Stewart]

Richard- Thanks for sharing this. I do some of the same sort of memorializing for my late wife, even after the 13 years she's been gone. Most of mine is very internal, most all when riding. I find riding to free up the mind. Some small part stays attentive to the road and such but the free ranging not quite sub conscious mind wanders. I ride past scenes that remind me of our past and feel the pleasure of having shared them before with her. Thanks for making me think about this while I just sit at my desk:) Andy

[Gattonero]

I was wondering about the age of the foam grips. But apparently they’re still around to purchase:

https://porkchopbmx.com/grab-on-maxi...e-grips-black/

Some on Amazon, too.

Often a real pain to remove!

[e-RICHIE]

Once you develop a routine (as in, what goes where), you become part of the score. In my workroom, I’m a dot connector. The conductor. I know from repetition and routine that the metal I'm holding or the tool on my bench – these have a place in the sound I want to make. After a while, it’s jazz. It’s calculated. There is a method at work. But there’s also some freedom. Wiggle room. I try to exist in that space that has no floor. Off the ground, so to speak. I juggle. And the ideal is when all my balls stay above me, and none hit the ground. But if they do fall, I’ll channel my inner PeeWee Herman and proclaim, “I meant to do that.”

All This By Hand

[jon_norstog]

Thank you for putting this up Richard. It is touching, and a very good piece of writing.

jn

"Thursday"

(in reply to #1852 )

[e-RICHIE]

Some rides are more beautiful than others. But all rides give me time to think. So all rides are beautiful. And on some rides I think more and on some, less. It matters little if I go deep or simply ponder a bit about - say, nothing at all. To ride. To think. This is where the beauty is.

Today my mind wandered to how much I love riding, especially all of this year. I've been on since early February. It's November. I thought about how my self-worth was once tethered to race results. It used to run my life. I no longer race. Now I just ride, and think about things.

All This By Hand

[Ras72]

Thanks Richie. That speaks to me.
For those reasons and feeling at peace with myself are why I began loving the bike ride. The love of bike riding and desire to suffer a little turned me into a cyclist. It's that that will keep me on the bike for as long as I can.

[rccardr]

Some rides are more beautiful than others. But all rides give me time to think. So all rides are beautiful. And on some rides I think more and on some, less. It matters little if I go deep or simply ponder a bit about - say, nothing at all. To ride. To think. This is where the beauty is.

Today my mind wandered to how much I love riding, especially all of this year. I've been on since early February. It's November. I thought about how my self-worth was once tethered to race results. It used to run my life. I no longer race. Now I just ride, and think about things.

All This By Hand

This really resonates with me.
Last time I picked up a radio in anger was six years ago this month.
No longer counting self worth in tenths of a second.
Instead am riding 10-12 hours a week...and pondering.
Am calmer, more contemplative, and appreciative of the beauty in life.

[e-RICHIE]

leaf stuck in rear brake
makes such an annoying sound
cycling in autumn

All This By Hand

[CJones]

Just curious... why have you not removed the warning sticker from your crankset?

[e-RICHIE]

Just curious... why have you not removed the warning sticker from your crankset?

It's kinda' like the rest of the bicycle. I haven't touched a single thing on it (no adjustments, no tightening/retightening, no replacing anything) since assembled. I haven't lubed or cleaned it either. This, going back to February iirc.

[CJones]

It's kinda' like the rest of the bicycle. I haven't touched a single thing on it (no adjustments, no tightening/retightening, no replacing anything) since assembled. I haven't lubed or cleaned it either. This, going back to February iirc.

Interesting! I'm pretty sure I read somewhere that Paul Price (of Paul Components) purposely does not wash or maintain his fleet of bikes so he can see what happens to his components when they are treated that way.

[e-RICHIE]

Before my four hours on Sunday.

I rarely know which direction I’ll turn when I hit the driveway, much less the destination. I just go, but with an abstract idea of for how long rather than how far.

Today I moseyed over to the other side of Guilford, almost to Stony Creek. On the way back I took my customary jaunt to the end of Whitfield Street to pause.

The shoreline is beautiful. I never take it for granted. For a Jersey kid, it ain’t the Atlantic or, more specifically, Belmar. But it’s coastline, and it always delivers.

On the return I found Neck Road in Madison, a turn I’ve never taken. As I was exploring it I wondered why. One stretch is more beautiful than the next. I’ll be back.

This is me. It’s what contentment looks like in 2020. Riding just to ride. Simply to ride. No intervals. No goals. No finish lines. And no safety pin holes in my kit.

All This By Hand

[Bingissimo]

leaf stuck in rear brake
makes such an annoying sound
cycling in autumn

All This By Hand

Ooh, let me try.

Grime crusted bar tape
Filthy drivetrain
Tatty sticker

Imperfection is Perfection.