The Moulton Bicycle, Tony Hadland (1981)
A very readable account of the development and production of one of the greatest pieces of cycle engineering
Tony Hadland 0 950743 1119 156pp £10
I picked up this book fearing that it might be aimed at the Moulton fetishist; that it might be full of lists of serial numbers and lengthy descriptions of minor model changes. In fact, it is a lively, engaging enjoyable treatise about one of the most radical, if not the most radical, bicycle designers, and the product that made him famous.
The bones of the Moulton story are familiar. Alex Moulton was a brilliant engineer who, after undertaking important work on design of the original Mini’s suspension, turned his mind to bicycles. Doing that, the hit upon a series of ideas that revolutionised the way that we think about bicycles: small wheels could be faster that big ones; suspension could be created that was both light and effective; the diamond frame is not the only way to build a bike and; that making a bike collapsible increased its utility.
As soon as the Moulton bicycle was launched in 1962 it was a sensation – entering popular culture, and quickly winning its spurs – breaking speed records and in other competition. Moulton’s preferred partner, Raleigh turned down an invitation to build the bicycles – so they were manufactured, under licence, by a car factory – among others. Hadland is particularly good at showing how Moulton’s entered popular culture – appearing in newspaper cartoons and being ridden by prominent politicians of the day.
Moulton had a good sense of how to whip up publicity too – his bikes were soon being used to set a series of place-to-place speed records. The book’s cover shows Tommy Simpson testing a model with a view to using it for an attempt on the hour record.
By 1967, however, many Moulton’s innovations had been appropriated – albeit in forms that failed to obtain all the benefits of the original. Nonetheless, in 1967 Moulton sold his company to Raleigh, who retained him as a consultant. The mighty Nottingham company continued production until 1974 – but their heart was clearly not in it – not least because they wanted to sell their own, pretty rotten, small-wheeled bicycles like the RSW and the later Shopper.
As well as being an enjoyable history, Hadland’s book also serves as a gazetteer of all things Moulton. His references suggest screeds of further reading. There are tips of riding and modifying your bike. And a serious-minded assessment of the bike’s strengths and weaknesses is proffered – with voluminous test data as source material.
What Hadland does not really address, however, is where Moulton’s work should be placed in the firmament of British engineering achievement? Moulton has a strong claim to being the greatest bicycle innovator of the twentieth century. His failure to turn his brilliant invention into the cornerstone product of a world-beating company, however, places him alongside so many British innovators – Frank Whittle (jet engine) and Christopher Cockerell (hovercraft) for example. This does not diminish the Somerset-based engineer’s work, but it does leave you with the sorry taste of opportunity lost.