First, a little background/intro to help explain things, so please bear with me. My father was an MD, but not your typical golfing and Mercedes driving MD. He was/is very mechanically inclined and with strong entrepreneurial spirit. We lived out in the countryside near Syracuse, NY. We needed a decent sized lawn tractor to handle the acreage and the snow, and he had is eye on a certain brand (Economy Tractor) which was not available in our part of the state. If you bought 2 of them you could become a franchised dealer, so that's what he did. Grandview Ridge Implement Co. was born. Bought one and sold the other and we were in the tractor business out of our garage. He gave me the title of "chief mechanic", and all of our "profits" went into my college fund. That was about 1970. We sold a handful of tractors every year, just enough to keep our franchise.
Around 1972 my younger brother wanted a "10 speed" for Christmas. On Christmas Eve my father and I took a drive into Syracuse to the Irish "Tipperary Hill" area (its only traffic signal has the green light on top, red on the bottom) and pulled up to a non-descript warehouse reading "Gibaud-Gero Distributing". As we entered he says to me "Keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking." These guys were a regional bike wholesaler. We walked out of there with a bike box containing a new Steiger Sprinter, yellow. We were up late into the night figuring out how to put a bike together. Our new bike business was off and running.
We sold 20-30 bikes per year, mostly to doctors and nurses at the hospital. Dad would have bike catalogs in his briefcase, he'd take orders at work, stop by the wholesaler on the way home and pick up the bike, I would assemble and test ride, and he'd QC my work. Then we'd personally deliver the new bike to the home of the owner after work the next day and adjust it and show them how to ride it. We carried lugged steel gas pipe stuff: Steiger (German), Rixe, Sutton and Royce Union (Japan). Owners needing repairs would bring the bike to the hospital where my father would take them home and then we'd deliver back to the owner's home when complete. Once I had my license I'd just drive to the owner's home and make minor repairs and adjustments on site. Yes, we made house calls. I actually had a genuine black doctor's bag to carry the tools.
Congratulations if you've read this far.
So what did I ride? After my younger brother had his nice 10-speed, I wasn't about to go without. Soon after, I bought a blue Steiger Sprinter. Definitely certified "low-end" to CR readers, but it was lugged steel, Simplex Delrin stuff (which I grew to loath), Altenburger CP brakes, cottered crank. It was the bike that got me going.
In our catalogs I lusted after the "Sutton Supreme", the crown jewel of the line. Cro-mo frame (IIRC), Shimano Tourney, and best of all: gold freewheel !!! I thought I'd try my hand at racing, entering a local 25 mile road race. Bad idea. I was smoked by those that truly were into the racing scene, most of them on PX10's. I quickly learned that racing wasn't for me and that there were better bikes to aspire to. I began reading everything I could on the subject, joined the Onondaga Cycling Club and met Jim Konski (I would later work at his shop), went on club rides. I would visit local bike shops and sponge up knowledge.
In 1974 I saw the Raleigh Team Pro in a shop window. The red and yellow paint, the Super Record equipment. I was hooked. A bike like that was beyond my means, but it never hurt to dream a little.
Then the club newsletter had a classified ad from someone selling a pair of '72 Raleigh Internationals. $250 each, gently used. It wasn't a Team Pro, but I could settle for something a couple notches below. So bought one of the two. For me it was a perfect fit. From age 15 on, that was my ride. That bike was with me until about 1986 when it was stolen.
I picked up another '72 International on Retro Raleighs in 1998. That is now my only ride. Time, money, kids, and little space preclude me from having any other bikes, but if a '74 Team Pro were to come along....
Doug Morrell
St Louis MO