Just got back frm France.. some nineteen old French bikes better off, although my wife would not altogether agree with that last observation. Perhaps more of those later...
The Duravia on Ebay is quite a rare bird and this particular model was not known to me. Duravia used to advertise in the "But et Club"and "Miroir de Cyclisme" magazines - those wonderful tatty sepia and faded turquoise "hebdomadaires" of the cycling scene in Europe through the decades - and, as I recall had a link, possibly as an OE supplier,with La Perle.In over fifty years of visiting France I had never actually seen a Duravia until quite recently.
One of my passions.. "obsessions" is my wife's word for my activity.. is visiting the various Catholic charity warehouses scattered around France, and dating back to 1953. These places are the receptical for house clearances and they gather in untold quantities of collectible "goodies" of all manner and variety of household clutter - the legitimate "dechetteries" for those manifold possessions with which mankind manages to surround and smother itself during a lifetime...or less, and which for whatever reason.. death, divorce, lack of space to move, absolute frustration or just for the sake of a newer model.. are at last passed on to someone else - the charity - to store, get rid off,, sell for charity.
And so it was that one bright Saturday afternoon I joined the throng - the French don't believe in queueing - outside the sun-bleached and weather ravaged oak front door, giving it the appearance of a craggy face worn that had endured a couple of centuries of harsh winters and even harsher summers, of an ancient industrial stone mill on whose ravaged facade it was just possible to still read the faded message about its once probably prosperous owners "Ets. Dumarre et Fils - Estampage" - the premises of a company. now long gone, that had specialised in stamping out shapes in metal for the engineering industry - possibly even a sub-contractor to some Rhone Valley-based cycle manufacturer. The magnificent river, the Rhone sped noisily and expansively by behind the waiting hoard - just metres away.
Winding my way up spiral stone staircase, its treads worn hollow by millions of footsteps wending their way to the presses and drills of former years. I followed the by- now orderly procession of "disciples" climbing ever upwards each one with the same purpose and the next - to find a bargain, to get "un escompte" in whatever field of obsession they suffered from. At the top the spiral opened outwards, became broader and afforded at the same time a spectacular display area past which every single pilgrim had to make his way, on his way to find his own Holy Grail.
And that's where I found it my first.. and only Duravia... standing out proudly amongst the scrum of Hirodelles, Peugeot, Motobecanes.. all of much humbler status than this early example of World War II aerospace technology transferring into the mass culture.
I stopped abruptly at the head of the spiral, totally oblivious of the knock-on effect this "Halt" would have on those behind me... as Gaulloise-smoking pilgrims shunted into their fellows, the long ash formerly dangling off the end of the glowing cigarettes now shaken loose and tumbling on to well-pressed "jeans bleu".
I didn't buy the Duravia, not that day in any case -even though I managed to negotiate an "escompte importante" with Monsieur "Le Responsable", the man who had to try to turn other people's rubbish into priceless treasures.. all in the name of charity for the homeless of France, many of whom manage to gravitate from all the six far-flung corners of the "Hexagone" to beg on the pavements of the Champs Elysees, during that holy of holy days - the arrival of the Tour de Francem in Paris.
I thought that the asking price, some 75 euros, for the Duravia was just a little excessive, even though I knew my money would go to a good cause... the 25 euros wrung out of M Le Responsable being more in keeping with the value of the elderly crippled bicycle. And so I descended the spiral steps, their hollows now more dangerous in the leaving than the arriving, turning over in my mind the gamble I was taking over a bike the like of which I had never seen..but there again the following Wednesday the old oak doors would once again creek open.. and I would be offered a second opportunity to call upon my "escompte".. strike the bargain un;less that was. someone else whose own Holy Grail was a Duravia, had drawn up his Citroen "Deux Chevaux", had passed through the door-of-a-thousand-cracks, had spiralled upwards..had afforded the 75euros...
Many questions are to be asked about Duravia are there to be as many answers? The one on Ebay.. is it worth the $200... and the rest a Japanese bidder might be prepared to risk... or should the prospective buyer seek, as I did on the banks of the Rhone, at the top of the stone steps, each one chiselled as it were after the shape of a wedge of Camembert...to negotiate that "escompte", a "remise"..?.In the immortal words of that favorite son of France, whenever he is interviewed about anything at all...his chances of yet another King of the Mountains jersey, of a place in the top ten of the T-d-F, of a stage win on the 14 July in honour of those fallen in the Bastille, of whther the French will vote "oui" or "non" in tomorrow's European Constitution referendum, of whether the sales of French wine will continue to fall dramatically due to competition from California's cabernet sauvignons...."Il faut voir..Il faut voir..On verra.." - the eternal non-commital pronouncement .."We will have to see,,"
Norris Lockley..Settle UK again..not Sancerre, France.. indulging once again in sun-enhanced reminiscences
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