We begin this tale with last Saturday's visit to Bike Works for their now-monthly "As-Is" Sale where frames, complete (and complete-ish) bikes, and components are brought outside and hoards of people buy them. I had already stopped by a few days earlier to see if they had anything interesting that was
tall tall and didn't find anything...or so I thought. Fast forward to Saturday and I arrive almost an hour into the event, far behind our very own
Mr. 66 who had arrived much earlier to scour for gems. I had brought along my inch/metric tape measure to, um, measure a friend/BW employee's bike (presuming he had brought it that day) to build him a custom touring bike in CAD, a follow-up from a conversation from earlier in the week. He's tall like myself and his fit and bike purpose requirements have been honed over the years, riding a number of bikes that weren't quite right. He admitted that he had only given a custom frame a few days' casual thought, but that didn't stop me from enthusiastically asking him a number of questions so that I could get started.
He didn't bring the bike that day.
Oh well! I told him if he could take some measurements, to email me (they have my email from volunteering) and I'll put it into the model. The challenge of making a ~66cm touring frame attractive, especially with saddle and bar/brake hood heights being elevated, is considerable. I tend to not find very many scaffolding-sized frames attractive. Or maybe I should rephrase: An attractive super tall frame can get awkward looking really quickly. Angle and proportion and 'gesture' are critical to a good looking frame. Outside of Koga-Miyata (for 66cm bikes) and Trek (for 65cm bikes), and maybe Lotus and Raleigh, not only are the choices of super tall vintage (and modern) tourers small, but well-executed ones (aesthetically) are even fewer.
So how does a Medici fit into this? Well, Mr. 66 had snagged a few choice bikes, including it. He had hoped it would be smaller, but after showing it to me and my measuring of it, it was very apparent it wouldn't (even if it would have been a fun project regardless). He offered it to me for a sum, and I agreed. [I will not disclose the amount, but let's just say Bike Works had their reasons for wanting it gone, outside of it opening up more space]
Part of that agreement was that anything hanging off it would be his, which I had no problem with. I'm in it for the frameset!
Here's what I brought home, er, to his home to wrestle a stuck stem and seatpost out of:
Kidding!!
Near-sighted iPhone camera for the win! (needs a new one, period)
Mr. 66 had to run an errand on the way home, so I got there early and took some close up photos of the, if I'm honest, horrifying surface rust and paint bubbling on this poor frameset. But even then, this large, regal-looking frame had presence.
Mr. 66 with the Goodwill price tag sticker identification on the stem. This bike has quite a story, and the last however many months or years have not been the kindest.
We start the surface rust proceedings with this angle. Time to buckle up!
Pleasant!
I like the rust, er, paint masking...
Yes, that is paint flaking off of the lug on the bottom side of the stop tube. Beautiful spoon-style seat stay cap, in spite of the rust. I do like the paint masking here as its primary purpose seems to be to provide contrast to showcase that cap. Warms my heart.
