Building the African Fixie, Part 1
During my visit to Yaoundé I told Donald, my bike mechanic buddy, about my idea to build a bike. He shared my enthusiasm and asked lots of questions about this “fixed gear” thing (“You have but one gear and cannot coast? Wonderful.”). I explained that my needs were, broadly, any steel road frame in the 57-58cm range. A set of 700c wheels in any condition would be nice, too. He made a phone call to a friend and within 20 minutes he arrived outside the guardhouse on a moto with a pile of bikes strapped to the back. Among them was one that was, well…perfect.
I could hardly believe my luck. The frameset is a steel 80’s vintage Atala, an Italian marque I hadn’t encountered before, but it has the same classic geometry common to many European frame builders I was acquainted with. Almost immediately I was reminded of my trusty Ciöcc, hanging in a dark storage unit some 8,000 miles distant—the first new Italian road frame I’d scrimped and saved for while working as a messenger way back when. The pearl blue paint of the Atala, though chipped and scraped up, was largely intact as were the decals, including one proudly claiming “Campion del Mondo” with the years it was ridden to victory. Inspecting it from every angle for cracks, dents or evidence of repairs, I was taken by details like the engraved seat stay ends, heart-shaped cutouts in the lugwork and chromed fork crown. Even better, it had what appeared to be the original Campagnolo headset, a decent seatpost, bottom bracket, a fine polished 3T quill stem with matching drop bar and, as luck would have it, a single Modolo caliper in working order.
Remarkably, the components that came with the frame were exactly what I needed from my parts list. No more, no less. I had truly found a frame with an African soul. As if it needed any more cred, I was told it was raced by the previous owner in the storied Tour de Cameroon (even if it weren’t true, I didn’t care). Might these all be signs that the African Fixie was meant to be?
