Fifteen Years With Tybalt!

While I don't know the exact date, I do know that right about now I'm reaching the anniversary of the first time I ever laid eyes on my little tabby cat Tybalt, and brought him home.  My best guess is that we first met on April 23rd, and he came home a few days later.

I should start by explaining I never thought of myself as a "cat person" for most of my life.  None of my friends when I was growing up had cats, and my family never had cats, only two dogs.  One of my earliest experiences with cats, when I was probably about fourteen or so, did nothing to win me over to the species.  I was visiting my older sister at her house, and was petting her cat Maggie (you Tennessee Williams fans will get that), who seemed perfectly calm.  In a flash, I found myself with a cat, claws out, scrambling up my arm and shoulder to my head, where she launched herself across the room.

Really not a great first impression.

Savannah perched on my desk.

Over time, yes, I met some cats who were nice enough.  My brother had a sweet manx named Savannah that I got to know when we were both back at our parents' house for a while.  I even cat sat for her for a week or so while my brother was away, and got to know and like her pretty well.  Still, over the years, I had few really close and positive interactions with cats.  I, like many others, saw them as mysterious, aloof creatures.  I'll always remember visiting someone's house or apartment who owned a cat, but you'd never, ever know, since they hid the moment you arrived.

Tomas

Then I got to know Tomas.  He was a sweet, big black cat who belonged to a woman I started dating about a year after moving back to the DC area.  He took to me, and I'll admit, I grew quite fond of him.  When we all moved into a house together, it was suggested that I get my own cat, both so I could learn what it's like and to provide a buddy for Tomas.  We talked about it idly, but didn't really make any definite steps.

Then a late April weekend where we had planned a camping trip, and the weather turned nasty... freezing rain and chilling cold.  With camping plans off, we thought we'd go check out a local shelter, and look at cats.  I don't know that either one of us really expected to find one on the first, impromptu trip, but on arrival we met this sweet little tabby kitten named Junior by the shelter.  The shelter had a separate "visitation room" and we took the little guy in there, and he was very friendly and cuddly, not shy at all.  He absolutely won me over right away, so we went to fill out the paperwork to start the adoption process.  As we were standing in line, I overheard the couple next in line talking, and the woman said "his name was Junior, right?" and I realized we weren't the only ones taken by the little fellow.

Paperwork done, all that was required was a house visit to make sure we were going to give him a suitable home.  When the woman came to interview us, Tomas calmly strolled into the middle of the room, plopped himself down, and proceeded to bathe himself.  This made us all laugh and the woman said "well, he's clearly very content here."  So that was that, Junior was mine.

One of my first photos of Tybalt, comfy on my desk.

Upon getting him home, we followed all the good advice about putting him in a room by himself for a while before introducing him to Tomas.  I spent a lot of time just getting to know him, and learning what a smart and playful boy he was.  I also knew I needed to come up with a new name for him, as Junior just wouldn't do.  After trying out a bunch of options in my head, I finally landed on Tybalt, from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet.  If you haven't seen or read the play, or seen the amazing Zefferelli film from the 60s, you might not know that another character refers to Tybalt as "rat catcher" and "good king of cats."  It just seemed to suit my new little guy, so that's what I chose.

Snoozing with his buddy Tomas, about a month after coming home.

Prowling the yard.

The funny thing is, for the first few years of his life he was an indoor/outdoor cat, and we learned pretty quickly he really was quite the hunter.  Rodents were not at all safe around our house, and sadly, neither were birds.  He's since become an indoor only cat, which is better both for him and the wildlife.  He did very much enjoy his outdoor time, but it just isn't safe for him or my other cat where I live now.

He's got his eye on that bird outside.

I do have to share one of the funnier aspects of his hunting days early on.   He experimented with a variety of ways to try to wake me up for his breakfast earlier than I wanted to.  Leaping off the headboard onto my chest certainly woke me up... but also got him tossed out of the bed, and not breakfast.  Then one day I was woken by him running around and leaping and pouncing all over the bed.  I opened my eyes, and there he is on the pillow right next to me, with a tiny young mouse pinned under his paw, and he's looking at me like "isn't this cool?"  The mouse still being alive, and me being that kind of person, I managed to get the mouse from him and release it outside.

The next morning... there he was again, running, leaping, pouncing all over the bed.  I open my eyes and he's there on the pillow right next to my head, but no mouse!  The little stinker is looking at me like "Fooled you! Now how about that breakfast?"  Funny thing is, every so often, for the next few years, he would play the same game, and I could never just relax and assume he had no mouse, because I knew all too well what a good mouser he was.  I've lost count of how many times I've found a mouse or even rat he killed.  Luckily, for the last five years or so, there seem to be none where I live.  I'm pretty sure he and my other cat Jinx are the reason for that.

Tybalt in February of 2020, still bright eyed and active.

We've now been together for fifteen years and I couldn't be happier.  He's a sweet, gentle, and very affectionate cat, who likes nothing better than settling down on my lap (where he is right now as I write) or curling up next to me.  He loves naps with me, and at night, as soon as he sees I'm getting ready for bed, he trots into the bedroom and hops into bed with me.  Not a big one for meowing ever, he's got this adorable trill that I love.  He's quite a mellow fellow in his later years, but he'll still play with toys and chase things around, even giving my younger cat Jinx a run for his money.  And I've learned just how wonderful it is to have cats in your life and how easy they are to love.

Beautiful British Bicycle!

Time to revisit my bike collection, and talk about one of my many bikes.  This is one I've had a while now, but just never got around to writing about.  It's a Mercian King of Mercia, hand built in Derby, England, and it's a really lovely old bike.

A bit of background here - as I've written before, I learned to ride late, but once I did learn, I fell in love with bikes and I never stopped riding.  My dad served in the UK in WWII, and during that time he developed an appreciation for English bikes, which got passed down to me.  It also helped that our local bike shop where I grew up was a Raleigh dealer.  My first two bikes were made by Raleigh, and I've owned a number of their machines over the years.  Heck, I have five Raleighs in my collection today, now that I think about it.

By the time I had my second 10-speed bike, a Fuji S-10S from Japan, I started to dream of having a really fine, high end hand built bike.  I'd go to bike shops and look at the top end machines, and wish I could afford one.  Around this time, a book came out called The Custom Bicycle, which included profiles of a number of bike and frame builders around the world.  They were grouped by nationality, and I found the section on British builders fascinating.  One company profiled was Mercian, and I just really liked what I read about them in that book.  The thought of owning one of their beautiful frames really appealed to me, but through high school and college, and beyond, it never really was in my budget.

Like so many of my current bikes, fast forward a few decades...  and I finally found one for a very fair price.  Browsing Craig's List one day, there it was, a nice tall Mercian bike, with what looked like mostly original components, and only a little over an hour away from me.  Only problem was, I was tied up at work the next few days, and as it was a weekend, I was sure it would be gone before I could get down to see it.  Then my friend Marty (who was the one who pointed me to my Proteus some time back) happened to contact me, and after hearing me talk about the situation, offered to make the drive and pick it up for me. And he even got the seller to take a little bit less for the bike!

When I got the bike, it was a bit grungy, and had a few "features" I knew I would have to change, such as the handlebars with a rather extreme shape, and the super narrow US Postal Service Flite saddle, neither of which were original or really appropriate for the bike.  Examining the bike and doing some research based on the serial number, I figured out the frame was built in 1977.  I reached out to Mercian, who keep pretty good records going back rather far (they've been in business since the late 1940s), and they told me it was a King of Mercia model, and sold to Stone's Cyclery in California.  I tried to get more info from Stone's, but the fellow who would have known more had passed away.

The majority of the components on the bike are made by the Italian company Campagnolo, and while they are from the Nuovo Gran Sport group, their more "affordable" series, they are really quite lovely and excellent quality.  The one notable exception to an otherwise complete component group is the rear derailleur, which is a French Huret Jubilee.  The Jubilee was known back then for being a very smooth shifting derailleur, and some considered it better than any of the Campy choices of the time.  It was also the lightest rear derailleur made up to that time, and at 136 grams, I believe it is still the lightest ever made, at least mass produced.

Drivetrain

Huret Jubilee rear derailleur

Campy Nuovo Gran Sport crankset and front derailleur

Campy Nuovo Gran Sport Rear Brake

The other interesting thing about the component set is that stamped codes on the Campy parts indicate they were manufactured in 1981.  My guess is that Stone's Cyclery (still in business and selling high end frames today) ordered the frame for stock, and just didn't find the right customer (and a tall one at that, since it's a 25" frame) for a few years.  And it must have been a pretty serious enthusiast who knew their stuff, to have requested a full Campy kit, with a Jubilee rear derailleur.  Or maybe Stone's steered them that way.  Regardless of how it came about, it makes for a really great bike.  The frame itself was hand brazed (on an open hearth - see here), built with double butted Reynolds 531 manganese-molybdenum tubing, a classic tube set.  This gives a light weight and lively feel to the bike, and the lugs and fork crown and everything are just very classic and lovely.  And that paint job!  I really couldn't ask for anything more classy and classically British than that two tone green and white.

As mentioned before, I did change a few things.  The handle bars and stem got swapped out for a more traditional "Mae's bend" shape and higher bars, and that Flite saddle made way for a Brooks B17 leather saddle, my personal favorite.  While the pedals were Campy Nuovo Gran Sport, and good quality, they were the "quill" style that I don't find work very well with my really large feet, so I swapped them for a modern set of Shimano (gasp!) pedals with SPD fittings on one side, flat cage on the other, so I can ride with bike shoes (or in my case, sandals) or regular shoes, depending on mood.

So how does it ride?  In a word, great!  Nice and smooth riding, light and fast.  There's a lively spring to the 531 frames I own, and this one is no exception.  It's a great general purpose road bike of its time.  I wouldn't load it up with touring bags (well, if it was the only bike I owned, sure, but it's not), and it's not a true racer, but it's great for a nice long ride in the country with a saddle bag carrying a sandwich, apple, and snacks.  All in all, another lucky find, and another case where a bike I dreamed of in my youth proved to be worth the wait.

To see more photos of the bike, including before and after shots, check it out here:




1977 Mercian  King of Mercia

COVID19

Well, I suppose it's time to write a few of my thoughts about this... living through a global pandemic.

The funny thing is I would have thought I'd have been more mentally prepared for this.  I'm one of those people who read Stephen King's "The Stand" back in the 80s, and I've lost track of how many movies, novels, tv shows, etc, I've seen with the "humankind is devastated by a global outbreak of some terrible disease."  And for quite a while now I've suspected we were due for such a thing.

But now that it's happening, I guess I just wasn't are ready for it as I thought I was.  At least not the real day to day experience of it.  The news stories, first far away, now on my doorstep practically.  The DC area isn't at the leading edge of things in the USA, but I have family in Washington state, where the first outbreaks occurred here.  And my brother lives in New York, which today announced a lockdown of non essential businesses, and he's already been dealing with lost work.

And then there's what's happening in my life, my business.  It seems bicycle shops throughout the USA are seeing a huge influx of repair work, and we're certainly seeing it here.  Since last Thursday, March 12th, we've seen far more than the usual number of bikes in for service for this time of year.  I've been calling it "the spring rush on steroids."  It's both earlier and heavier than we've seen in a long time, maybe ever.  Part of it is we had a mild winter and seem to be headed to an early spring.  But most of it I think is due to people feeling that being out on a bike is a safe place to be when they are staying home from work or school, and trying to avoid exposure to the virus.

Honestly, I didn't expect this.  When the news began making it clear COVID19 had reached our shores and was coming our way, I braced for a drastic drop in business.  I began mentally preparing for the very real possibility that the shop wouldn't be able to weather it, especially coming out of the slow winter season.  I really didn't expect a rush of business.  Of course, it could end tomorrow, and I'm still bracing for that.  And there's also the chance that the government will impose a lockdown of some sort, preventing me from doing business at all.  And we probably have a long way to go until we get clear of this.

I'm hoping this whole experience might be a wake up call for our country, our society, our government.  Maybe there will be more attention paid to the social safety net, especially in regard to health care.  We seem to have really drifted away from the idea of any sort of "social contract" between government and the individual.  Here's hoping that changes as a result of this.

Merging Geekiness

As I mentioned in the previous post, I've been a typewriter enthusiast and collector for a few years now.  One of the first machines I added to my collection after my grandfather's Corona Standard is another one from Smith Corona, a Clipper model from 1947.  One of the reasons I was drawn to the machine was because it features a name and logo taken from the famous Pan American Clipper flying boats that were used before WWII in the early days of commercial aviation.  The most famous of those was the Boeing B314 Clipper, a truly amazing and beautiful airplane.

I first became aware of the Boeing B314 when I was a little kid and I ended up getting a collection of cards that featured historical aircraft, with a photo on the front and description and history on the back.  I thumbed through that stack of cards endlessly, to the point where I could cite much of the information from memory.  The Clipper was one of the planes featured, and between that card, and my dad talking about seeing the Clippers when he was a young man in NY, I've always been fascinated by them.  I didn't know until recently that those cards were from a boxed set put out by American Heritage and Milton Bradley, but now I know, and I managed to find a complete set in the original box.

Another part of my early interest in aviation included models, much like many other young people.  One particular series of models I really liked were Bachmann's Mini-Plane series, which were tiny, fully assembled and painted scale models with remarkable detail for their size.  I suppose part of my interest in them was because they didn't require hours of patience and dedication to build, as they were complete in the box.  I've picked up a few in recent years as a trip down memory lane sort of thing, and one of them is a Boeing B314.

So without further ado or rambling... here are my Clippers - typewriter, card, and model.  Kind of fun to have all three.

1947 Smith-Corona Clipper, Boeing B314 Clipper Mini-Plane, American Heritage cards.

Closeup view, Mini-Plane unboxed, Clipper Card from American Heritage.

Wait, did you really say typewriters?

Why yes, yes I did say typewriters.

I first became fascinated by typewriters as a little kid, tapping away at my late grandfather's machine, a shiny black 1935 Corona Standard portable.  Of course, at the time I had no idea about any of those details, I just knew it was fun to see how tapping a lettered key made that letter appear on a piece of paper.  I even recall typing up things using carbon paper, to make multiple copies, but I can't for the life of me think of what a ten year old kid might need multiple copies of.  Then again, this was about the same time I discovered tape recorders, which lead to endless fun.  But that's for another day...

My grandfather's 1935 Corona Standard today

High school came along, and one of the electives many took was typing.  I'm not sure exactly why I signed up for it... I probably just thought it would be a good idea to be able to type properly, since I knew college papers and such were most often typewritten.  To put it in context, I graduated from high school in 1979, right on the cusp of the personal computer revolution, though we didn't know it at the time.  The typing class was actually quite helpful and fun, and the main reason I can actually touch type on computers or typewriters.  I'm pretty sure the machines we used were some Royal standard style typewriter, big hulking grey things that were built like tanks.

Once I got to college, as expected, I needed to type papers for my classes.  I'm not sure why, but I never had a machine of my own in college, but borrowed friends' when I needed them.  There seemed to be ready access to a typewriter whenever I needed it, anyway.  Most of the time I used manual portables, as I recall mostly Smith-Coronas in various pastel colors, but at least once I borrowed an electric and was amazed at the ease and speed with such a machine.  It seemed like magic at the time.  How was I to know their days were numbered?

The year I graduated college, Apple introduced the Macintosh, which many would say demystified computers and opened up a new technology to a lot of people.  Other people wouldn't be so enthusiastic in their appraisal of the Mac, but I have to admit, I've always been a fan, and am in fact writing this on a Mac Mini right now.  Anyway, by the time the Mac hit the market in 1984, the personal computer in various forms had been finding its way into homes and offices for nearly a decade.  That being said, when I was in college, a "computer science" course involved gigantic computers feeding a basement printer spewing out green bar paper, and I stayed the heck away from that.

Of course, like most of us, the day came when I embraced (well, not literally, that would be creepy) the personal computer, and bought my own Mac.  And from that day forward, it was my machine of choice for most writing aside from personal correspondence and journals, which I did by hand, in my shockingly illegible handwriting.  No, really, ask anyone who has tried to decipher something I've written by hand.  It's atrocious.  I'm the one kid in my family that never went to Catholic school, so maybe that's it.

Fast forward to sometime around 2010 or so - I don't recall exactly how it came about, but I got to asking my mom about her father's old Corona.  Maybe I'd seen a few in antique stores, or photos online.  Anyway, she told me where in the house it was, and I dug it out and looked it over.  It all seemed clean and functional, though a bit stiff from lack of use.  It even had a usable ribbon.  My mom had someone service it years back, and then it went into storage, so it really had very little use since the work.  Around the same time, a woman I was dating found her grandfather's '30s Underwood, and we had some fun re-discovering manual typing.

That was about it for a few years, the occasional tapping out of something or other, and looking idly at machines in antique shops and such.

Then I watched the documentary "California Typewriter", which features two writers whose work I really like, historian David McCullough, and the late Sam Shepard, both of whom talked about how and why they used typewriters for their writing.  Also in the film is Tom Hanks, who at the time had a collection of something like 250 typewriters, and talked very enthusiastically about them.  I even bought a book about them, by a guy named Richard Polt, featured in the film as well - The Typewriter Revolution, full of fascinating facts, photos, stories of how people use typewriters in the 21st century, and tips on buying and fixing machines. After seeing all the many types of machines from all the different eras, the bug bit me, and I started looking actively for typewriters.  I've now got a pretty good collection of my own going, and enjoy sitting down and typing out things like my thoughts of the day, the odd letter to friends or family, etc.  I've even started trying to get into the habit of typing up the notes I take on my walks on the C&O Canal so I can read them later (see above comment about my handwriting).

Here's a few photos of some of the machines I have.  I'll write more about them in more detail in time.  Hopefully some of you will find it interesting!

Olympia SF Deluxe, SF, and Splendid 66 ultraportables

Sears Tower Chieftain, made by Olivetti

1941 Corona Zephyr and Zephyr Deluxe ultraportables.

1956 Royal Quiet Deluxe

Specialized Sequoia Makeover Project - Pt 2

Cleaned up, reassembled, mostly complete.

When I first got the bike, I figured it was in decent mechanical shape, but a bit grungy and rough looking.  So then I got down to taking it all apart and cleaning the frame, which turned out to be in much better shape than I had expected.  Under the grime, there was bright, clear paint, and very, very few scratches or flaws.  Even the decals were pretty much perfect, which is pretty rare on a frame this old and clearly ridden a lot.  The various components were pretty grungy and needed cleaning and overhaul, but I also looked at the parts mix and gave some thought to changing it.  As I explained in an earlier post, as near as I have been able to determine, the 1982 Sequoia was sold as a frameset, and built up to the buyer's requests.  This freed me to rebuild it with my own preferred mix, keeping some parts and changing others.

SunTour Cyclone II derailleurs and Sugino AT crankset

To start with, the bike had Campagnolo Nuovo Record cranks, which back in my younger days, I might have kept, since they are great quality and worked great if you could live with the gearing options they offered.  I'm older now, and appreciate having lower gears, or at least a "bail out" or "granny" gear, and that wasn't an option with those cranks.  Furthermore, the arms themselves were a really long 180mm (170 is pretty typical for road bikes of this era), and while I'm tall with long legs, I don't really feel I need them that long.  In their place, I installed a set of one of my favorite cranksets, a Sugino AT with three chainrings instead of two, giving a wider, more versatile range of gears.  As an added bonus, I found someone who wanted to buy the long Campy cranks, which brought in almost half of what I had paid for the bike.  Initially set up with MKS Sylvan Track pedals and toe clips, I later put a set of Wellgo SPD pedals instead.  I figure I can swap them out depending on mood.

SunTour Superbe brakes

In a similar vein, the rear derailleur was a lovely, early version of the Shimano Dura-Ace mechanism.  Those are really great, smooth shifting units, but designed solely for racing, and very limited in the range of rear sprockets they can work with.  So I opted for a SunTour Cyclone GTII ofr the correct period, which would work with the wide range chainrings up front, as well as giving me more options at the rear.  And the Cyclone was a match for the front derailleur the bike came with, which I kept.  Likewise, the original owner had put SunTour bar end shifters ("barcons") on the bike, and they are a personal favorite of mine, so they stayed.  Very smooth operating and right at your fingertips at the end of the handlebars.

Nitto bars and stem, Superbe brake levers, SunTour barcons

Speaking of handlebars, the bike came with a very aggressively curved drop handlebar, a style I really just don't care for, and a stem that didn't bring the bars up very high, so those were also discarded and replaced with a more conventional Nitto B115 bar and Technomic stem.  The original brakes were odd, in that the front was a standard reach Campy sidepull, but the rear was short reach with a drop bolt.  No idea why they would have done that.  I had a set of SunTour Superbe levers and calipers and used those instead.  Gorgeous and they work great.  I kept the original seat post, and ultimately put a Brooks B17 saddle on it. 

Avocet Mod II hubs, Super Champion Gentleman rims

Finally, the wheels and tires.  The bike came with a set of wheels built around Avocet Mod. II hubs with sealed cartridge bearings, laced to Super Champion Gentleman 20mm wide clincher rims.  Once I checked and found the hub bearings perfectly smooth, I just couldn't think of a better option for this bike. Avocet was a USA based company that offered a range of components made by Ofmega of Italy, including hubs, cranks, and seat posts. They were probably better known for a longer time as selling some really nice tires, but they closed down operations some years ago. Super Champion was a French rim maker who were among the first to offer a narrow, lightweight box section rim that brought higher performance to clincher wheels.  I tried the bike out with the original Specialized tires for a ride or two, but they didn't ride that great, so I changed them over to some Compass/Rene Herse 700x28 Chinook Pass tires, which are high end, supple and fast tires.

So, how does the bike ride?  In a word, great.  Tim Neenan really hit a home run with the design of the Sequoia in my opinion.  Reasonably light, stiff enough for good power transmission, but with enough "give" in the frame for comfort.  As I said at the beginning of this, when I was younger I really wanted the stiffer, racier Allez model, but for where I am now the Sequoia is just about perfect.  If I wanted, I could put wider, cushier tires on it, even with fenders, and there are mounts for a rear rack if I wanted to carry some stuff.  It's not really designed for fully loaded touring, but if I wanted to do some long day rides, or some "credit card touring", I'd certainly consider this bike for it.  And it's a really beautiful bike too, without being overtly flashy.  I'm really glad I found it... or it found me.

Finished bike after a ride.  Yes, white tape.

I never did find out who told the owner they should bring it to me, but I'll always be grateful to whomever it was.

Specialized Sequoia Makeover Project - Pt 1

Note: you might want to read my earlier post "It followed me home..." if you haven't read it yet to see the backstory to this bike.

I'm the sort of guy who wants to know as much about a bike I own as I can learn - when and where was it built, by whom, how was it originally equipped, and anything else I can find out about it.  So, once I got this Sequoia, I went to the internet to see what I could piece together.  Here's what I've learned or surmised, based on material found online and asking in a couple of internet discussion groups.  One bit of luck, I got input from Jim Merz, who was a product designer for Specialized starting shortly after this bike was built, it seems.

Serial numbers are a very good place to start when investigating a bike.  That is typically the most reliable way to find out who built the frame, and when it was built.  Now, some of you might be sitting there thinking "Doesn't the fact it has that 'Specialized' decal on it tell you who built it?  Well, it's not that simple.  The company name on a bike does not always tell you who actually built the bike.  In fact, in the heyday of Japanese road bikes (1970s - 90s), more often than not, the brand name was just that - a brand, a label, usually cooked up by some importing company.  For example, there was no Specialized factory back when this bike was built.  Specialized (at the time Specialized Bicycle Imports) was one of those importers who contracted with a variety of manufacturers to make their products for them, including bikes.

So, if Specialized didn't actually make this bike, who did?  Well, thanks to past experience, I had a suspicion, and when I went to a couple of internet mailing lists where people know these things, I found out I was right.  It helped tremendously that Jim Merz, who was a product and bike designer for Specialized in the early days, was on one of the lists I checked.  What I've learned is that the frame was built by a Japanese company by the name of Miki, who built frames for a number of different brands.  In fact, the orange Centurion I own that I've written about several times, was also built by Miki.  I've seen several examples of their work, and it's very high quality work.

Serial number stamped in bb shell. M = Miki 82 = year built.

The second thing I learned from the serial number is that the frame was built in 1982.  Further research, and examining the parts on the bike have lead me to believe the original owner bought it as a frame and fork, and built it up (or had a shop build it up) using a mix of parts that the owner specified.  In fact, I'm pretty sure in 1982 that was the ONLY way you could get a Specialized bike, as the only literature I've been able to find shows only frames and forks for sale, not complete bikes.  This goes a long way toward explaining the mix of Campagnolo and Shimano and SunTour parts on the bike, as few, if any bike companies would mix and match like that for a stock build.

Next I'll write out the whole overhaul and rebuild, explaining my choices along the way.  To tide you over, here are a few shots of details of the frame once I got it cleaned.

 Oh, a good place to start in researching serial numbers for some brands of bikes built in Asia:


https://www.bikeforums.net/classic-vintage/1042901-asian-serial-number-guide.html

Stay tuned!

Seat cluster showing the scalloped seat stay tops and thinned lug.

Bottom bracket area.

Main triangle.

Rear brake bridge with reinforcements.

Rear dropouts.  Frame is chromed under the paint.

Left chain stay with name of Tim Neenan, who designed the original Sequoias.  He currently builds under the Lighthouse Cycles brand.

Fork crown.