Last Saturday I acquired (for better or worse) this Centurion Cavaletto for $40:
Although you may scoff, let me tell you that in 1986, this was an almost entirely adequate bicycle. No, seriously. It was an OK bike, and (I hope) still is. It was the entry level road bike for Centurion (which was owned by a company that later started to make mountain bikes and called them Diamondback, then phased out the Centurion brand name). Alas, this is not the Ironman or the Le Mans, but I just wanted a beater road bike to turn into a commuter. Voila.
Before you start thinking what a sweet deal I got on this obviously amazing bicycle:
A. The seatpost is woefully short. It’s about 100mm, and I will need 250 or 300. It’s also made, as far as I can tell, from cast iron, like my sweetie pie’s cornbread skillet. Much of the bike seems to be constructed from this material. The saddle has already been replaced. The one that was on it before… ::shudder:: I am thinking I’d like children someday, so that was the first thing to go.
B. The handlebars are about 5 pounds, steel, and so narrow that I think I could drive with one hand better than with two. You’ll also notice the large, heavy stem; large, heavy brake levers; and large, heavy shifters. Also the oh-so-excellent foam padding.
C. These tires are of the “corroded to death” variety. The rear, as you can see, is flat. It holds air for a few hours. The front has held about 70 psi for a couple of days, now. They are both rotting to the point that all the lettering has fallen off the sidewalls and random bits of crumbling rubber are left behind wherever the bike goes. I put on eye and ear protection when I pumped them up (based on an experience with Amanda’s similarly old tires, which exploded). But they’re not to the explosion stage yet. Naturally, I will need tires, tubes, and tire liners (down here, tires last hours, not days–the thorns, you know).
D. The spokes are sort of… scary. They’re covered with a rough whitish sprinkle, like overly-salted pretzels. And some are a bit rusty. I’ll clean them up, but I’m not getting new rims, and I have no idea how to lace my own. So these will have to do. The rims seem great, btw. 27″ (630mm)–odd size–but good shape.
E. Did you ever see such ugly pedals in all your life? They have to go. however, I weighed them and found that butt-ugly kids’-bike plastic pedals are fairly light. Hm. But since I can get alloy pedals with clips for as cheap as I could get the clips by themselves…
Other things: The cables (and probably housings) need replacing. They’re rusted, and the braking is extremely (dangerously) sluggish. The brake pads are old (probalby 20 years), but I’m going to try sanding them and see what happens. The brake mechanisms seem fine, as do the derailleurs. There is exactly one quick-release component: the front wheel. Maybe I’ll remedy that someday. Meh. The frame has a few surface rust spots, but it doesn’t seem serious. Shifting is adequate, but the shifters slip in and out of gear a bit. The big plastic reflectors on the wheels must go. If I find a cost-effective method, I may also paint this thing. I find the decals hideous, rather than nostalgically antique.
I weighed it this morning with my accurate-to-within-a-coupla-pounds bathroom scale. About 28 lbs. Ugh (but not as bad as SOME bikes…) Maybe I can drop a pound or two, but I doubt it, since I’ve decided to spend minimal $ on this. Aircraft aluminum and carbon fiber are expensive.
On the other hand, maybe I could emulate Brad and make this a single-speed, or even fixed-gear bike. Ditch the derailleurs. Hm. The only thing that concerns me is that it might be rough on my knees. Things to ponder.
This bike still has neither gender nor name. I want it to be a girl, but with “Cavaletto” on the top tube, that seems a bit weird. Hm. David Bowie: “You’ve got your mother’s head in a whirl, because she’s/ not sure if you’re a boy or girl…”
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