Ah, yes, time again for the Restoration Thread. This time I won't sit it out, just because my opinions on the subject are unorthodox.
Deciding what to do with any bike I acquire is an intellectual exercise that is, for me, the most enjoyable part of its ownership. I'd be reluctant to forgo that exercise in favor of some set of mindless rules, such as the furniture collectors' invariable preference for original finishes. If bicycles were viewed in this simplistic way, I wouldn't be here.
Deciding what to do with any particular bike isn't easy. (Well, not for me, at least.) That applies even to cases like my Carlton, which was a complete wreck when I received it. It obviously warranted restoration, but what should the goal of that restoration be? Turn it into a nice rider? Or keep and restore the original Huret and Williams components, crapola that they be, in favor of originality?
The question is really not even whether to restore or not restore a bike, but how aggressively to restore it. Any degree of cleaning, repair, and maintenance work is restoration, of a sort. There's a wide range of options between simple cleaning and and completely repainting. We're not forced to choose only an extreme. It's interesting that I haven't heard anyone propose a basis for making this choice. My basis is to try to preserve whatever made the bike special, and not to sweat the unimportant details. For example, on a Masi, I consider the fine paint job to be one of those special things. It's OK to repaint one, but the quality of the paint should be preserved. On the other hand, componentry, within reason, isn't that important.
Also, I just don't care much about minor details that don't contribute to what I consider special. It's normal for any working bike to have consumable parts replaced and occasionally to have major components replaced. This is part of the ordinary evolution of any bicycle, and it arguably tells a story that's worth hearing. In fact, I think one could claim that the original appearance is only one relatively small part of that story. The greater part is what a classic bicycle says about where we have been and what we value. In that sense, my plebeian Carlton tells me more than the Cinellis and Masis, whose stories are pretty well known a priori.
In the final analysis, regardless of how much we might admire them, very few bicycles have any degree of social, historical, or artistic significance. We're not talking about Bach's harpsichord,which I saw being restored at the Museum of the Berlin Philharmonic a few years ago. If you screw up that restoration, something priceless has been lost to the world. The same doesn't apply to a bicycle: even if you make a poor choice and completely wreck the thing, you probably haven't done anything to it that ordinary life hasn't done to 10,000 of its fellows. And there are probably a few thousand more roaming around (maybe with handlebars pointed skyward) that could replace it.
Steve Maas
Long Beach, California