The One That Didn't Get Away: Schwinn Continental II

A bit of a diversion from our usual automotive fare, but I hope you, gentle reader, will indulge my nostalgic bent for a few moments. 

A couple of years ago I did a post hoping to start a trend (yet to materialize, sadly, get with it, guys!) on a topic that we here at Car Lust have batted around on occasion, The Ones That Got Away: "Vehicles that we either had and let slip away or ones that we had a chance to buy but neglected to take the plunge on. . . .until it was too late."

That particular post had to do with what was probably my first vehicular Lust, the Schwinn Sting-Ray bicycle. In passing, I mentioned that I had moved on to a Schwinn Continental II tourer, and that I still had it. In fact, I still do have it and thought I might throw it out there for a bit of old-timey bicycling memories. 

The 1970s were many things but, as we've discussed here many times, were not the paragon of what many would call an automotive renaissance. Be that as it may, the decade had a few things going for it. For one thing, fitness. Arnold Schwarzenegger's Pumping Iron came out in 1977 and introduced the country and much of the world to the previously obscure sport (let the arguments begin) of bodybuilding. Up to that point, "working out at the gym" usually meant a few dumbbells, barbells, a medicine ball, and maybe a punching bag, usually by people who looked more like Robert Mitchum than Flex Wheeler.

That wasn't the only thing. Jim Fixx's Complete Book of Running also set off something of a craze for jogging, and its concurrent explosion of fancy schmancy running shoes (and, unfortunately, track suits). And to think, we used to run around all over the place in plain old sneakers. 

Cycling also got in on the action complete with its own movie which I actually don't remember ever seeing but probably had some effect on the already burgeoning bicycle boom. 

Turns out, I partook of all three trends at one time or another, although my running days are probably over (darn knees) and, as you'll see below, my cycling has been rather limited. I am, however, still something of a dedicated gym rat. 

The Schwinn Continental/Varsity is probably most akin to a "Car Lust" bike because these days they don't get much respect, although like many things (especially around these parts), that might be changing. I perused some bike forums while preparing this post and most didn't give much credit to old Varsities and Continentals, except as curios. But they are deserving of more attention and, dare I say, affection.

As I mentioned in the Sting-Ray post, before the 1960s or so bicycles were mostly geared towards kids. You were a kid, you rode your bike all over creation, and when you got your driver's license, you stuck the ol' bike in the garage and forgot about it. But in 1960 Schwinn made what would be, arguably, the nation's first "ten-speed" derailer-geared bicycle that was specifically targeted at adults. Young adults, maybe -- you know, college kids, hence the "Varsity" -- but adults. Technically, the original Varsity was an 8-speed and the rather more upscale Continental was a 10-speed. 

After the Sting-Ray was introduced in 1963, the nascent bicycle boom began to really take off and by 1970 -- perhaps when all those Sting-Ray-riding baby boomers started to hit college -- it was in full swing. In 1973, for example, bicycles outsold automobiles by almost 4 million units. That was the last time that happened, but it shows how much the sport/hobby/whatever had taken off. Schwinn in particular, and the Varsity/Continental especially, were among the top sellers. That domination began to wane shortly thereafter, as consumers discovered much lighter European and Japanese bikes; Schwinn had held on to their philosophy of building quality (read: heavy) bicycles for a bit too long it seems. Then again, it held on in production until 1986 making it something like the VW Beetle of the bicycle world. 

Which brings us to the subject of this post: My old Schwinn Continental II. I don't remember exactly when I got the dumb thing, probably around 1978 (What is it with me and 1978?) and at the time I was undoubtedly not thinking of it as a long-term investment. According to the brochure I've provided here (source), it would have cost my parents (I may have even bought it myself or at least chipped in) around $165 (that's over $600 in today's dollars). It's a typical tourer with 27" steel wheels and an "electro-forged" steel frame. It was also quite hefty, weighing around 37 pounds (I just weighed it). By contrast, most modern cycles weigh between about 15 and 25 pounds. That difference may not sound like much, especially when we're used to dealing in tons around here, but plowing uphill a few pounds can (or at least seem to) make a big difference.

And it had a built-in kickstand which I for one always utterly adored; I simply don't understand why they fell out of favor.

It also had the "rat-trap" pedals, meaning they were cleated and you could attach toe clips and straps to them. Mine's always had both clips and straps; it would seem insanely unsafe but I've never had a problem getting my foot out in time when any trouble erupted, and in fact, they probably saved my sorry *** on one occasion (see below). 

And I loved it. I'd had trouble with bikes up to that point, trashing several, including my first 3-speed. But for the most part I took care of that thing, keeping it nice and oiled and clean and treating it like my own real vehicle, which is what it was. Never left it out in the rain or snow, it always went in the garage. I took it on rides out in the Wisconsin countryside, even going on a 60-mile round trip once to the town my grandma lived and back. I had the regulation water bottle strapped to the frame, a portable pump strapped to the frame, and a little saddle bag hanging from the seat, usually containing my wallet and a few tools in case I got in a pinch. Yes, I was truly a cycling enthusiast. 

Recall I said I took care of it "for the most part". I was kind of racing (read: racing) with my brother and a friend once when I failed to look up in time to see the parked car coming at me very quickly. I managed to hit the brakes but they didn't help much and I plowed into the back of it at a pretty good clip. Needless to say, I did a 180 over the handlebars, fortunately landing on my head, and then slumping down by the rear wheel of the car. My brother, being the caring sibling that he is, first made sure the car was okay (yes), and then my bike (no), and then finally checked to see where I'd gotten to (okay, except for a bruise or two). Turned out I'd hit so hard I broke the frame almost in two in two places. I believe my toe clips may have saved me some of that as I could have easily flown right into the back window; as it was I just landed halfway up the trunk (to this day I thank God it wasn't a van). 

I had to wait a couple of months while a new frame was ordered, and it was the longest two months of my life. But when it finally came back I was overjoyed. Consequently, I am a bit sorry to say that I really don't have the original bicycle (hence the missing decals on most of the frame). But it's close. 

The only other time I had a rough patch with it was when I, stupidly, tried to ride it down a fairly steep, urban hill in the rain (plug in 43-04-35.67 N and 89-24-07.12 W to Google Earth and you'll see it). Brakes on steel wheels are almost completely non-functional in the wet so I was faced with either hitting a car on the way down, hitting a car at the bottom intersection, or blowing through the intersection and hitting the wall on the opposite side, none of which seemed like particularly positive end points. At the time the best option seemed to be to just bail halfway down; which I did. The reader can rest assured that it is possible to make a bicycle "slide into third" as it were. 

I didn't ride it much after that, while I was in college, except during summers at home where we would venture out into the rolling countryside of southeastern Wisconsin. But I dutifully schlepped it out to Seattle when I moved out here for graduate school. I rode it a bit for a while, but the hills and tight traffic situations (and the rain) pretty much made it infeasible for most actual transportation duties. I still made sure it was inside, or at least covered. But it never occurred to me to get rid of it. 

A few years ago I got tired of it sitting around all the time, doing nothing but getting in the way and decided I should either dump it or make sure it was functional and at least use it every now and then. I gave it a moderate overhaul -- new tires, cables, etc. -- although parts have become difficult to find anymore. It squeaks a bit. It's heavy. Brakes are fair. But I take it out to go to the (you may have guessed) gym a few times during the summer. It suits me. At this point I'm not sure if I'll ever dump it and get a new one; I can't really see myself cycling so much that it becomes a liability. Besides, a heavy bike just gives your legs a better workout, right? 

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