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.

The aroma.  The taste.  The ritual of the preparation, and the anticipation.  It’s more than just a drink.

Coffee is an integral part of cycling and cyclists lifestyles.  But, like Campy versus Shimano, or white socks versus black, the way we imbibe the magic bean can be just as polarising.

We received an email from a reader with a suggestion for The Rules. Rob infers that anyone partaking in a soy-based brew, or a ‘lite’ milk additive, should be ceremonially beaten.  ”Harsh but fair” he believes, such as we always imply with The Rules.

Already I am receiving unflattering, downright tempestuous emails from my fellow Keepers regarding my soy intake confession. Yes, I unashamedly admit to this ‘foam pas’ and will accept any abuse like a man.  A soy-drinking man, dammit!

But no matter how you enjoy your bean, there’s one thing for certain;  coffee is good.  Some say it should only be consumed black, sans sugar, in a ceramic cup.  Others, like Rob, suggest it can be enhanced with a small amount of milk, i.e macchiato. While everyone has different tastes, I’m sure most of us would agree that caramel, butterscotch and excessive amounts of foam, sprinklings and flavourings have no place in any cup.

And personally, I feel that the very act of sitting in a cafe in Lycra is a little more embarrassing than drinking soy. Call me a hippy, call me lactose intolerant, call me soft, but at least I’ll never be a ‘cafe racer’.  Not in my own town anyway, maybe in Belgium…

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.

Those of you who have been studying our catalog of The Rules will have noticed that eyewear is to be cycling-specific, and should always accompany you on your rides.  There is a functional reason for this: your eyes are a valuable asset which you want to protect from UV rays, debris, and wind.  There is also a stylish reason: in this age of near-universal helmet usage, your helmet will look way too bare on your noggin without the balance provided by your eyewear.  (It is not acceptable, by the way, to wear a full beard as a counter-balance to your helmet.  The only “cyclist” ever to wear a full beard was that Russian Guy in American Flyers, and I think one look at that guy will explain to you why that doesn’t work.)

I have cultivated a life-long obsession with finding the perfect pair of sunglasses.  It started when I was a kid, buying authentic imitation Oakley Blades at the local Fleet Farm so I might look a bit more like my childhood cycling hero, Greg LeMond.  I ran through lots of cheap pairs that looked like Oakleys (but weren’t) until I was perhaps 13 years old and I bought a used pair of old black Blades from my dad who had just bought a fluorescent yellow pair of Mumbos.   I remember sitting in my room, mesmerized by the iridium lens and running my finger over the white “OAKLEY” logo on the earpiece.  I was well on my way to looking like a Pro.

But eyewear satisfaction proved temporary and elusive.  By the time I owned the Blades, they were already terribly outdated, with the the Mumbos replacing the Razorblades, which replaced the model I had.  My quest continued.

Eventually, I purchased my first pair of Shots, beginning a 15-year love affair with Briko.   In the Nordic skiing microworld, these babies were the shit because they had the full ski goggle-like band that kept them on your head and allowed you to perch the glasses safely on your hat without worrying about them falling off during a race.

This seemingly minor detail inadvertently changed my life, as I became consumed by the details of how best to wear hats, and how best to pair your sunglasses with them.  In skiing, it became a very carefully studied system of wearing your hat using a technique I call the Three-Point System where the hat sits just above the point where your spine enters your skull, covers the tips of your ears, and comes to rest close above the eyebrows.  The sunglasses must then be perched upon the hat at just the right height and just the right angle in order to maximize what my dad always teasingly referred to as “the Pro Look”.  (It goes without saying that “the Pro Look” also involves a carefully cultivated facial expression and a plethora of other accessories.)

This also influenced my technique for wearing cycling caps as well.    (I hereby formally confess to breaking Rule 11 as a reckless, fool-hearty youngster.)    When the cap was worn visor-forward, it could not be too high or low, and could never be tilted too far forward or backward, with sunglasses to be be placed just above the brim.  If the cap was worn visor-backward, its positioning bore great resemblance to the Three-Point System, with the back low to the eyebrows, sides just above the ears, and the visor just above the nape of the neck.  The sunglasses in this configuration were always perched high up, towards the top of the brow.

The problem with the Briko Shots was that, unless your name happened to be Mario, they looked terrible when used on a bicycle (and thus came dishearteningly close to breaking Rule 25), and as such I ran through various iterations of Briko models and spent gobs of money in my quest for the perfect pair of riding shades.

The matter has been further complicated by a related ailment: I am overcome by a feeling of overwhelming claustrophobia caused by wearing sunglasses when I’m exercising at my maximum.  This was true during my ski racing career, and is still true today, whether I’m riding or skiing.  If I’m hot and fighting to get enough air into my lungs, having sunglasses pressed up on my face and pushing down on my nose is a feeling I cannot tolerate.  At the same time, I’m sensitive to light and wind in my eyes, and as such generally need to wear them.  Without getting into this too deep, I’ll just state that it is important for me to easily and quickly take my sunglasses on and off.  The problem was solved for me when ski racing by the Shots’ ability to easily, quickly, and securely get shoved onto my hat, but it has been an ongoing problem for me as a cyclist since there has never been a good place to quickly and easily store my sunglasses when I’m hot.

Until recently, that is, when helmet manufacturers started building helmets that receive the earpieces of your sunglasses with little or no hassle.  Unfortunately for me, my Brikos at the time had earpieces that didn’t slide properly into my helmet and for this offense were cast aside.

Based on evidence that the Pros were able to stick the Oakley Radars into their helmets with no issue and still managed to look cool, a few years ago I decided to return to my Oakley roots and buy a pair.  (White, of course.  Because that’s the coolest color.)  Ever since, I have been absolutely amazed at how good these sunglasses are.  The hydrophobic surface coating keeps water beading off them, so when you get sweat splashed on them, can spray them with your water bottle and they clean right up.  If you overheat when climbing, you can pop them into your helmet and maintain your Pro Look.  The Radars are the perfect cycling eyewear.  At long last, mission accomplished.

Imagine my amazement, then, when Oakley released the Jawbones.  They are ugly and look like they’d be even hotter than normal sunglasses, with no open-air system between the glasses and the cheek.  Besides, the dual-color version that many pros have been sporting is no good whatsoever and should be abandoned as quickly as possible.

What was the deal with the Russian guy in American Flyers, anyway?  That guy was a jerk.

Is it awesome to wear matching jerseys and shorts? Yes, but it took me a long time and a trip to Italy to have this revelation. Is it a violation of The Rules (#14)? Perhaps.

Who doesn't want to look this good on the bike?

I always had a drawer full of black bib shorts and a drawer of jerseys. It makes it easy to get dressed to ride, black goes with everything. Grab clean shorts, meditate over jersey selection and boom, suit up. I was never compelled to buy a professional team kit as I’ve never been a rabid fan of any team, any rider or any team kit. I may become Sean Yates in my Motorola jersey for a fleeting few seconds but that’s about as far as it went until I finally made it to Italy.

When driving around near Lucca I kept seeing older guys (my age) out on the road, a foot from the tractor trailers, unfazed, fit, wearing matching jerseys and bibs. I didn’t recognize the kits but these guys looked impossibly good and since I’m a devout Italophile, that’s all it took for me. If that’s how it’s done in Italy then I’m all in.

Luckily Cervelo rider Ted King (self-anointed King of Style) agrees with me.

Among a smattering of other worthy reasons, cycling rocks because you can experience exactly what we pros experience. You can ride the bikes we ride, wear the helmets we wear, pedal the roads on which we race… and you obviously have the opportunity to rock the clothes we wear. So why the crap not?

Moreover, if you’re going to piece together a bicycle outfit, instead of the ragtag/patchwork look, why not look good when doing so? We look good, so you sure as heck might as well hop on the bandwagon and look nearly as good as we do.

I had a run-in with the KoS about my issue with tall socks (and punctuation) but we have agreed to disagree about sock style. Ted’s website is worth a visit as he is a well spoken pro and he gets to hangout with Thor.

In truth I don’t really own (or wear) too many matching kits even now. I own two local club outfits and now four Euro-esque pairs, one set I really can’t wear much because I look too much like Cipo in his zebra Aqua Sapone days and it scares people. I bought an early (pre) Garmin-Slipstream set as I am a fan but never dared wear it when the team was in the same town for two weeks training. Everyone would be embarrassed if we intersected.  But my wife and I are now killing it in our Heinrich and Henrietta Haussler Stylin’ All White Cervelo outfits*. In mine I am actually descending more boldly as I channel H.H. from the wet Stage 13 of the 2009 TdF. All is well unless Heinrich turns out to be last doper of many dopers from the doomed Gerolsteiner team.

So don’t be afraid as neighbors look askance and they pull their kids inside as you leave the house in your bright billboard of matching jersey and shorts advertising, say, an Italian cement company. Wear it loud and wear it proud knowing looking good on the bike is important and it’s the Italian way.

*more violations, rule #1 and #4