The migration to electronic transmissions in cycling is inevitable. Cables have lots of inherent problems; they stretch, rust, break, and get clogged in their housings. Worse, they are part of an imprecise mechanical system that requires constant maintenance and adjustment, and one that can by design only work perfectly in one gear and gets progressively worse the further you get from that “perfect” gear. In short, cable shifting sucks, and it will eventually go the way of friction-shifting.
The obvious solution is the electronic drive-train; once adjusted, an electronic system should need little further adjustment or maintenance since there are no cables to stretch, and it should work equally well in all gears because an electronic system should be able to set the chain perfectly regardless of the derailleur’s position with respect to the cog in the cassette. The only problem with electronic shifting is that it takes human control out of the system, which makes it suck even more than cable shifting.
Marco Pantani destroys the field on the Galibier of the 1998 Tour de France.
In 1998, Marco Pantani staged one of the most prestigious coups of cycling by winning the Giro-Tour double. He made this run aboard what I believe to be the most beautiful bike in history, a Celeste steed with a yellow section of frame starting at the seat collar and spreading out down the tops of the seatstays, top tube, and seat tube.
Very little is actually known about this bike; it was a one-off creation made especially for Il Pirata by the Bianchi Reparto Corse division which makes all the top-end bikes for the company. Some say the frame is aluminum, others claim it was boron. The frame undeniably used a compact geometry (this is commonplace now, but it was unique in ‘98), but whether the top tube sloped up or down seems to be a point of contention: did the top but slope up to give a longer head tube to bring his bars up to accommodate his unique in-the-drops climbing style or was the top tube sloped down towards the seat tube in order to reduce the weight of the frame and increase the stiffness of the rear triangle?
The bike has captured my imagination for a long time. I love the way the saddle and tires match the portion of the frame where they intersect in what I call the “Yellow Cluster”; the vision of Pantani climbing out of the saddle on the Col du Galibier with those flashes of yellow swaying back and forth as he danced up the mountain remains one of the coolest images of cycling. I studied his bike extensively when I was building my Bianchi XL EV2 and I mimicked it’s setup, choosing a yellow Flite saddle and solid yellow tires. To this day I love the looks of that bike, and Pantani’s setup has even influenced one or two of The Rules.
I’ve searched the net over for information on his bike, hoping that at some point someone would find and catalog it for the world. Occasionally, there will be an article posted somewhere that covers the bike, but each of these has ended up a disappointment as upon closer inspection, it is revealed that the bike is not in fact his tour-winning bike.
I did, however, find one article on Campy Only which appears to showcase the real deal. It comes from an account by a fan at a post-tour criterium in 1998 where Pantani made an appearance:
Here you have the pictures of Pantani’s bike. Note that he is using tubulars on his Electron wheels, even for this small race. He seems to love this bike. In the Giro he used the normal team bike on the flat stages, but since the mountains he has not been apart from this ultralight “hillclimber” (except for time trials). I think the weight is about 7 kilos, but is is of course a very small bike.
The use of a downtube lever and the modified Ergo lever is a funny detail. It is very unusual these days to see homemade stuff like this on a pro’s bike, and he even won the two major tours on it–it’s a classic bike, this one!
Recently on CyclingNews.com, they did a Retro Bike review of Pantani’s 1998 ride, reportedly stored at the Bianchi museum. I was thrilled and dove into the photos, looking for answers to questions I probably didn’t know I had. Unfortunately, closer inspection revealed a host of problems with the bike; I am sad to report that this is not in fact Pantani’s bike, and in all likelihood did not even exist in 1998. It appears to be nothing more than the Bianchi team replica frame clumsily loaded with a 1999 Campy Record 9-speed groupo. The items that give this fact away are: non-compact geometry, carbon Ergo levers, no front down tube shifter (and accompanying left-side Ergo lever with guts removed), black and yellow tires (instead of his solid yellow tubulars), and silver Time mag pedals (he rode red ones in 1999). This could possibly be a late-season racer or a 1999 trainer, but in any case, it is not his 1998 Giro-Tour winning magical steed. Since it appears his real bike eludes even the Bianchi museum, my only hope is that he kept it for himself and it resides somewhere in the Pantani estate.
At first glance, you might cite a whole host of Rules being broken here. Bars too high, not enough set-back on the saddle, lack of chain, to name a few off the top of my head. Furthermore, the rider of this particular bicycle lacked cycling-specific eyewear and was wearing knee pads, and was doing nothing towards cultivating the “Pro Look”.
But the truth is, what we’re witnessing here is the sapling of a future Keeper.
Followers of the Keepers may remember a while back that the Head Keeper, Frank, was having a dilemna about whether or not to run Nokon cables on his steed, and indeed which colours would suit said machine.
I’d been running them on my previous Roubaix, mainly to get the ‘Zabel-esque’ shifter cable routing, with some degree of success. They shifted reasonably well, no better or worse than standard cables I thought, and looked pretty unique.
All was well until my front derailleur cable started to fray at the pinch bolt, necessitating a new inner cable.
Simple.
Or so you’d think.
What should have been a 5 minute job turned into an hour-long late night curse-fest, and left my bike front shifter-less and me unable to join the next day’s early morning ride.
With the Nokon’s multiple aluminium segments spread all over the floor, I decided to go back to good ol’ Shimano SP41 outers. But I wouldn’t be able to get Zabel with it. Or would I?
Turns out that the black 4mm casing is flexible, yet stiff enough to run the bend from the lever to under the bar tape, and still shift with the precision that it’s known for.
I also routed the cables around the opposite sides of the headtube, crossing over under the downtube like I’d been doing with my mountain bikes, and how I’d seen it described over at Embrocation mag.
Tidy, functional, and dare I say it, PRO. I’ve still got the Nokons employed for the brakes though, because everyone knows that they hardly get used anyway.
I am facing a major problem; one not easily solved. One of our principal Keepers – Brett – had made mention of the most important element of cycling: the Rules. While the Rules are ambiguous, they are also very clear. Not so much “clear” in the sense that any of us really know what they are or what they really mean; more “clear” in the sense that it’s pretty fucking obvious when a rule has been broken.
I have it on the excellent authority of a man down the shop that Nokon cable housing makes a noticeable difference in shifting performance. (I haven’t explicitly asked the question, but I assume this “difference in shifting performance” is a positive one.) In fact, it appears this opinion is held almost universally. Even Brett rides a set of them. I had them on my XLEV2 back when it was my primary racing machine, but I was unhappy with the crooked path the cables took from the shifters to the downtube. Being a man of obsessive/compulsive qualities, this proved to be too much for my already feeble mind to deal with while riding – especially given Shimano’s STI cable setup at the time. The Nokon cables went.
But, in the six or so years since, Nokon has come to the forefront and people seem to like them. Not only do they not compress – leading to improved shifting – but they are apparently lighter due to a lack of rubber or plastic or whatever cables are coated in. This is an easy sell. Every rational cyclist craves performance enhancement – even the legal kind – not to mention the added bonus that, given the weight savings, I should be able to add an extra noodle to my weekly pasta ration. (Cyclists only “eat” about once a week, on account of our strength-to-weight ratio. The rest of the time we fantasize about “food porn” while preparing our daily EPO/HGH cocktail.)
On to my problem. It appears Nokon now comes in a variety of colors, several of which would look absolutely dashing on my R3. The obvious relevant color choices are Red, Black, or White – with the possibility of running a silver set. Black is understated and simple. It would not call attention to itself and simply serve the purpose of shifting improvement and extra noodle rations. However, red and white would provide an additional stylish twist, accenting the detail colors of the frame. There is more red on the frame than white, but the handlebars and the frame’s text are white. Red would provide a certain “grounding” effect, while the white would continue the “accent” theme already present in the frame.
If I choose the white cables, do I then need to switch to black bar tape, allowing the white cable housing the freedom to rock it? Or would I stick with the white tape? Are red cables too…well, red? Silver is an option, but I would need justification. Something like, “I really wanted to match my cables to the titanium bolts.” But I feel funny just writing that explanation – even after the several glasses of wine I’ve already consumed tonight. I struggle to believe I’ll feel good defending my choice while I’m sober and on the bike.
This is going to take at least another couple weeks to decide. Any input is welcomed. See below for current configuration.
