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Dave Moulton

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I was never in a movie, but at one time, my arm was in a cast.

My good friend Steve from California recently suggested that reminiscing about when we were in the best shape of our lives was for when we are done riding. When the time comes for me, I already know when that was, 1970 and 1971. It started literarily by accident.

I was living in England, it was early in the 1970 season. I was out training alone after dark and was rounding a bend on a relatively quiet country road when a motorcycle traveling in the opposite direction, taking the same bend on the wrong side of the road, met me head on.

The motor cycle, ridden by a sixteen year old with no driver’s license or insurance, with a youth of similar age riding on the back. These kids were on a big ol’ British Norton and were racing some others who were following also on motorcycles. Because they did not see, a light from an approaching car figured it was safe to take this particular corner on the inside.

All I remember of the impact was a huge headlight coming straight for me; the next moment I was lying on my back in the road. What actually happened was that the motorcycle passed slightly to my right; the handlebars of the motorcycle passed over my bike but hit my right forearm. Remember this was England so I was riding on the left side of the road.

The impact threw me up in the air, doing a complete summersault, I landed on my back in the road. Rather like a wrestler, doing a move called “The Irish Whip.” It happed so fast I do not remember that part, but know that is what happened because the back of my head was slightly grazed, (We didn’t wear helmets back then.) and the back was ripped out of my sweatshirt.

The motorcycle also went down and the two youths picked up some road rash as they slid across the road and ended up against a wooden barn on the opposite side. Apart from this they were uninjured. I was not so lucky; my right forearm was shattered, broken in three places. My bike on the other hand was completely untouched, not even a scratch in the paint.

I experienced the worst pain in my life that night lying in a hospital with my arm a temporary sling hung by my bed. The next morning they operated, and had to put a stainless steel plate in my arm to hold it all together. The plate is still there today, and I wouldn’t know it except for a six inch operation scar to remind me.

They put my arm in a cast from my hand to my armpit, with my elbow held at 90 degrees. This cast was on for five months; I could drive a car and do a few other things but couldn’t work. I decided to keep riding my bike and rigged it up with a single fixed gear and a brake lever in the center of the handlebars so I could ride with one hand.

I rode every day as much as 60 to 80 miles. Weekends I would ride with the other guys in my cycling club. They cut me no slack and would drop me on the first hill we came to. I was riding with my left hand only so had to sit down on the hills, and could not get out of the saddle to climb. I would chase the group for miles; sometimes catching up, other times I never saw them again.

Weekdays I would sometimes ride with an older retired guy. He was probably about the age I am now and he kicked my butt; he told me months later that I had the same affect on him. He kept telling himself that he couldn’t let a cripple with one arm beat him, and at the same time I was thinking ‘I can’t let this old man beat me.’

When the cast came off after five months, the doctors were amazed; my right arm had muscle in it. My left arm got a hell of a work out and I have heard that if you work one arm or leg it will affect the other. So riding my bike was probably the best thing I could have done for my recovery.

The end of that year and the one that followed was my best season ever. The five months that my arm was in a cast I had been doing over 400 miles a week, and doing it all on a single 69 inch fixed gear. I could spin and was as strong as a horse on the hills; there is no doubt in my mind when I was in the best shape of my life.


Not one of mine

A Fuso bike listed on eBay item number 320029382855 with my name to it was not built by me. It was built by my apprentice Russ Denny after I retired in 1993.

That is not to say it is not an excellent frame; when Russ took over my business he had worked for me eight years and could do anything that I could. However the bike should be listed as a Russ Denny built Fuso not Dave Moulton.

I have contacted the seller twice but have received no response.

Update: Friday 22nd.
After four requests from me and a contact with eBay; the seller added a note saying the frame was built by Russ Denny and not me.


Which of these three books will be worth serious money in the future?

One is a first edition copy of my novel Prodigal Child; the other two are little notebooks where I hand wrote and recorded serial numbers of bicycle frames that I built.

The book on the left was the one I used to record frames built in Worcester, England from 1974 to early 1979 when I came to the United States. It contains very little information; just the customer’s name and a number. All I was doing was recording numbers to keep them in sequence and to prevent duplications.

The last thing I expected was that I would be corresponding with owners of these same frames some thirty years later. Who can contemplate thirty years into the future? Some of the pages in the book have water stains and the ink has run a reminder that the old WWII vintage corrugated steel building where I ran my business leaked every time it rained.

The second book (On the right.) has a little more detail in that it records a serial number, the frame size, and the bike dealer it was sold through. Sometimes there is mention of paint color and chrome plating, and occasionally a customer’s name.

This book records custom frames built in California from 1982 to 1986. I built a few frames in 1981 while still working for Masi but these were not recorded. Also not recorded were frames built after 1986 and up to 1993 when I retired.

In 1986 I moved my business from San Marcos, to Temecula, CA and I have a feeling my record book got misplaced. I found it about two years ago and it is a miracle that either book survived over the years and the many moves I have made. I built only three custom frames in 1986 and so few after that date that I felt it was no big deal if I didn’t record the numbers. Again at the time I was trying to scratch a living, not build future collector items.

On Wednesday this week a 30 year old frame that I built in 1976 came up on eBay.

It had been repainted, not very well I might add and there was no name on it. The only way to prove it was the genuine article was because the person selling had bought it from the original owner whose name was recorded in my little book along with the serial number.

The item was viewed over 1,100 times and sold for $357; had it been an unknown frame it would have been considered an “Old Beater” and might have gone for $25 to $50. But because I was in the business for some 36 years, built a few good frames along the way, some people perceive that the frames are worth collecting and restoring.

Actually these old English built frames from the 1970s were not as aesthetically pleasing as the ones built ten years later in California, but what they lack in aesthetics they make up for in rarity. There were less than ten of these shipped to the US and Canada through the 1970s. I hope the new owner will refinish the frame in the style of that period and not add braze-ons to it.

Supply and demand is what makes anything collectable increase in value. The supply of my frames will never increase because I don’t make them any more; in fact it will decrease as more people buy them and hold on to them. It is already rare to see a custom built ‘dave moulton’ come up on eBay. There are plenty of Fuso production frames out there as I built almost 3,000 and incidentally the ride quality of a Fuso is exactly the same as any other frame I built.

As for the demand more and more people discover my frames every day; more people know of my work now because of the Internet than when was actually building frames. It took me years to become accepted as a legitimate framebuilder; in my current occupation as a writer and songwriter it will probably take me just as long. But think what an accepted literary work or a hit song would do for the price of my bicycle frames?

Which brings me back to the value of these three books; they are all connected. I have no intention of selling my two little frame number record books but in time they will be the only way to prove the genuine article. As the value of my frames increases it will become important to authenticate each one.

As for my novel; everyone who owns one of my bikes should buy a signed first edition while they are still available. It’s a not too expensive and interesting conversation piece to go with the bike. Is it worth reading? Of course; does anyone think I would reach the top of my profession in one field to embarrass myself and others by writing something mediocre?

For the Lowcountry readers of my blog; I will be signing books at the Sam Rittenberg Barnes & Nobels this Saturday, September 16th, and at the Mount Pleasant Barnes & Nobles the following Saturday the 23rd. I would love to see you there.


Please Share the Road: I Only Need a Tiny Bit

I was riding my bike today and was on a quiet section of road that happens to be a divided highway with a single lane on each side.

It is 15 feet wide and as I only need about a 3 foot strip to ride my bike that leaves 12 feet for a car to get by. In fact I have had 18 wheelers pass me on this same section and leave me plenty of room.

Today someone got behind me and just laid on the horn. I pulled in as close to the curb as I could but still the driver would not come by just kept laying on the horn. Only when the divided section ended did the car come along side.

It was a lady driver and through her open window she yelled, “You need to be on the sidewalk.” I called back, “Sidewalks are for walking.” “Bullshit.” was the last I heard as she sped off.

Excuse me, but that is why they are called Sidewalks. So that was what all the car horn honking was about, she really expected me to stop and move over to the sidewalk.

What happened to ‘Share the road?’ I was not impeding this lady; I was in no way endangering her. You never hear of someone in a car being killed by a cyclist; unless one hits you on their way through your windshield.

I am just out there getting some exercise; I’m not making noise or burning fossil fuel. And if I should unintentionally delay someone’s journey for a few seconds; at the end of the day in the whole grand scheme of things how important is it?.

I must point out that this kind of behavior is an exception, most road users I encounter while riding my bike in the Lowcountry are polite and considerate.


What we say, as opposed to what we want to say

I got an email from someone the other day; it said, “Can I build a carbon fiber frame?”

I wanted to reply, “Sure, go ahead, knock yourself out.”

But I didn’t; instead I directed him to this website.

It reminded me of an incident some thirty years ago in England. A man walked into my bicycle framebuilding business, accompanied by an extremely beautiful woman; he asked, “Can I get a frame for my wife?”

I wanted to say, “That sounds like a very fair exchange, I could probably throw in a pair of wheels also.”

But I didn’t; instead I took his order and built a frame for his lovely wife.