The Austro Daimler Inter 10

The AD Inter 10

My Austro Daimler is a self-contained lesson in what's wrong with bike snobbery. Certainly, an AD would never show up on anyone's list of lust-engendering classic bikes, yet it has all the characteristics that anyone interested in classic cycling hardware would want: high quality, lugged, 531 steel construction, hand-drawn frame artwork, a spectacular, sexy paint job, and first-rate chrome plating on the fork ends and stays. The frame has no braze-ons at all; instead, it uses elegant Campagnolo clamp-on shifters, cable clamps, stops, and guides.

So, why aren't they more popular? Probably, a couple of reasons. AD got into the US market at the end of the American bike boom, in the late 1970s, and lasted only a couple of years. This isn't much time to form a reputation. Worse, most of their line were relatively cheap bikes, and few of the upper-end frames were sold. Finally, they are, after all, produced in a big factory of a large industrial conglomerate; hand-made bikes from small shops clearly have more mystique. Still, the ADs are probably the best value in classic cycling iron you can find. They deserve more respect.

Austro Daimler, by the way, is sold in Europe as Puch, the same Puch as the mopeds. That name would never work in the US: sounds too much like puke, not terribly romantically connotative, or push, which you might do when the bike breaks down.

My Inter 10 has deep, translucent, candy-like maroon paint, with hand painted gold pinstriping and lug outlining. The chrome fork and stay ends, along with the chrome fittings, provide nice accents. The original owner had the sense to fit a polished chrome headset as well, which, along with the chromed fork crown, provides yet another elegant highlight.

The bike is fitted mostly with Campagnolo Gran Sport and Nuovo Record components. The original owner must have had a large stash of French parts: originally, it had Gran Sport hubs, the rear French threaded, and a Maeda freewheel. The bars are also French, as is the stem. The seat is a Brooks Professional, nicely broken in.

Restoration, of sorts...

The bike was in pretty good shape when I received it, but it did have some problems. As you might expect, the French stem doesn't fit the English steerer perfectly. Still, the difference in diameter is only 0.2 mm, which is largely lost in the noise of manufacturing tolerances, so it's possible to tighten it successfully. I would replace it, but I love the copper-colored Benotto bar tape, and I don't want to rip it out until I have a replacement. The wheels were another problem. The Mavic rims were OK, but the spokes were galvanized (I hate galvanized spokes! ) so I tore them apart. I was reluctant to spend money to rebuild the French-threaded rear hub into a wheel, so I left them apart and saved the rims for another project. I installed a set of 32-spoke Mavic MA-2 wheels with Record hubs, which I built some time ago. And, of course, stainless-steel spokes.

Anal-retentive soul that I am, I had to tear down the bike and clean, readjust, and relube everything. A little bit of work, but it probably won't need attention for a long time. I also reoiled the seat and the leather toe straps. In reference to bikes, people use the word patina too much, I think, but it can honestly describe  the Brooks leather seat. I think that old leather seats, unless they've genuinely deteriorated, look wonderful. 

Below are some pictures of the bike as it exists at this writing. To see a larger version of each picture, click on the thumbnail. Use the back button of your browser to return to this page.