Paris, in the early summer of 1881, a new fashion was sweeping through the young generation of the fashion capital at an astonishing speed.
On Saint-Germain Boulevard, the afternoon sun was just right.
Jean-Pierre, the son of a well-off lawyer, was rushing to a renowned cafe on the Left Bank to attend a small gathering of friends.
He was meticulously dressed, wearing the latest slim-fit jacket with a narrow collar, and his polished leather shoes made a crisp sound on the cobblestones.
To appear dignified, he specifically rented an ornate two-wheeled light carriage to get there.
However, when he arrived at the cafe entrance and elegantly stepped down from the carriage, he found himself the focus of his friends' gazes—
But this "focus" carried undisguised teasing and mockery.
At the outdoor seating area outside the cafe, his four friends had already arrived.
They weren't seated around a table as usual, but were casually leaning or sitting on several gleaming "Sorel Model 1 bicycles."
Those bicycles had a uniform bright paint finish and an elegant diamond-shaped frame, gleaming with a cool metallic luster in the sun, appearing so light, modern, and fashionable.
Emile, with his two neat small mustaches, was the first to exclaim,
"Look who's here!"
He was wearing a practical Norfolk jacket and knickerbockers, with leather boots on his feet:
"Our distinguished Monsieur Jean-Pierre, still riding his 'medieval relic'!"
Another friend, Charles, gently pushed off with his foot and skillfully glided on his bicycle in front of Jean-Pierre.
He circled around Jean-Pierre and his somewhat cumbersome carriage, the axles humming lightly.
"My dear Jean-Pierre, haven't you heard? Carriages are a relic of the past era! Only old fogies and babies need them. Look at this!"
He patted the leather seat of his bicycle:
"This is freedom! This is speed!"
Jean-Pierre's face instantly flushed red, and he tried to explain:
"The road was too congested, my carriage was on Saint-Martin Boulevard..."
The third friend interrupted him:
"We're all riding 'Sorel Model 1s,' and you're in an 'open carriage,' no wonder you got stuck in traffic!"
This friend also got on his bicycle, rode two circles, then let go of the handlebars, succeeding despite some wobbling, drawing a small round of applause.
"'Sorel Model 1s' don't get stuck in traffic! They can take you anywhere you want to go, bypassing all congested streets.
Look at your attire, sitting in that stuffy carriage, you look as if you're going to a court ball at the Palace of Versailles!
We are young people, not those old men!"
Emile, standing by, "added salt to the wound" with an exaggerated tone of pity:
"And, think of all the fun you missed! I rode all the way from the Bois de Boulogne this morning. The wind caressed my face, the sun filtered through the leaves, and you could smell the earth and grass, not..."
He wrinkled his nose, pointing at the carriage and horses:
"...this smell. Seriously, Jean-Pierre. Without a 'Sorel Model 1,' you simply can't go out in public in present-day Paris."
The coachman also seemed to feel the unspoken humiliation and shifted uncomfortably.
Jean-Pierre looked at the superiority and mockery on his friends' faces, looking at the bicycles beneath them, representing "modernity," "freedom," and "fashion"...
A strong sense of embarrassment welled up in his heart.
He had heard about these newfangled bicycles before, but always thought they were for acrobats or engineers, far less dignified than a carriage.
At this moment, he finally realized he was wrong—the compass of Parisian fashion had completely shifted!
He feigned confidence, muttering:
"Is this thing... safe? I thought those 'penny-farthings' were more impressive..."
Charles scoffed,
"Penny-farthings? What use are those things besides breaking your neck and looking ridiculous?
The 'Sorel Model 1' is the most rational and safest design! Look at this height, your feet can touch the ground at any time.
Look at this chain drive, it's much less effort than pedaling that big wheel! A masterpiece created by Sorel, as captivating as his 'Thunderstorm'!"
Finally, Jean-Pierre practically fled the cafe; he had become an anomaly among his friends, a "country bumpkin."
His friends excitedly discussed plans for their next cycling excursion to the Fontainebleau Forest, while he could only silently drink his coffee.
He had already made up his mind: tomorrow, he would use his connections to get a "Sorel Model 1" bicycle as soon as possible!
He absolutely could not tolerate being the subject of ridicule at the next gathering!
Similar scenes were constantly playing out in every corner of Paris.
Fashionable youths wearing "Antoni" style clothes, riding gleaming "Sorel Model 1" bicycles, appeared in groups on the Champs-Élysées, Royal Palace Square, and along the banks of the Seine.
They pressed the bells on their handlebars, making crisp "ding-a-ling" sounds, announcing the arrival of a brand new way of life.
Carriages appeared slow and cumbersome in front of them, and "penny-farthings" seemed even more outdated and ridiculous.
Owning a "Sorel-Peugeot Model 1" bicycle had already become an indispensable status symbol for fashionable youths in Paris.
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The "Peugeot Frères Hardware Manufacturing Plant" in the Saint-Antoine suburb was currently immersed in unprecedented busyness and clamor.
In the past, it mainly produced pepper mills, coffee grinders, saw blades, springs... the sound of the machines running was regular and steady.
But now, every corner of the factory seemed to have been injected with an stimulant.
In the machining area, lathes, milling machines, and drilling machines roared endlessly, processing raw blanks into delicate parts.
On the final assembly line, "Sorel-Peugeot Model 1" bicycles gradually took shape under the skilled hands of the workers.
The air was filled with the distinct smells of metal, lubricant, sweat, and rubber.
In the factory director's office, young Armand Peugeot was surrounded by happy troubles.
On his desk, telegrams, letters, and order books piled up like mountains, almost overwhelming him.
Originally, according to the preliminary agreement reached with Lionel, the Peugeot factory produced "Sorel Model 1" bicycles under an OEM model.
Peugeot charged fees based on output, with the brand and patent belonging to Lionel.
The factory's previous production lines could stably produce one to two hundred units per month, which could cover costs but yielded meager profits, and the prospects were unclear.
However, with the successful staging of "Thunderstorm," everything changed.
Orders poured in like a breached flood, flying in from all over Paris!
Within just a few days, the total number of orders received by the factory had already exceeded three thousand!
Armand Peugeot had to urgently order the shutdown of profitable production lines for pepper mills, coffee grinders, etc., and divert all manpower and resources to bicycles.
The workshops were brightly lit, workers toiled in two shifts, and machines ran almost twenty-four hours a day without stopping.
But even so, facing the continuous influx of new orders, Armand felt dizzy spells.
He knew that he had to expand production, invest more capital, hire more workers, and purchase more equipment.
And this required a more stable and deeper cooperative relationship, as well as more capital and influence.
Just as he was scratching his head over the piles of orders on his desk, his secretary announced that Monsieur Delaroix, the notary, had arrived.
Armand was like he had seen a savior, practically rushing out to greet him!
(End of Chapter)