Hardly a bike can pass through my gaze without invoking a visceral reaction; admiration for a well-manicured machine regardless of it’s discipline, delight at a vintage gem or a diamond in the rough, anger at an owner who has neglected a beautiful machine, horror at an abomination of sensibility and taste.
When I see these machines my mind flies instantly to what it must feel like to climb aboard and turn the pedals, if even for a moment. I imagine how difficult it must be to move the rusted pedals of an old commuter; I might wonder at the smooth feel of easing the downtube shifter forward as the chain slips into the next cog; I cringe at the thought of grasping bars rotated too far up or down. It is our lot as Velominati to feel this way about a bicycle. To identify with it, to want to care for it, to make it free. On some level, to feel as though each bicycle has a soul, and that it must be cared for.
This same love leads us to always find room in our hearts to aquire another bicycle, however magnificent the other bicycles already own may be. Always, there is the Next Bike, be it in another material, for a different discipline, or a different purpose; the combinations of carbon, steel, aluminum, titanium, road, cross, mountain, and commuting quickly collaborate to fabricate the justification of bike number n+1.
But never is the next bike acquired simply for the sake of owning another machine, for a bicycle must be ridden if its soul is to find salvation. A bicycle that stands by in a corner, year after year, waiting in great anticipation for the Next Ride as the air slowly seeps from its tires is a tragedy beyond articulation. My three road bikes are from three different eras, and each is an enviable beauty. The Bianchi TSX hails from 1997 and represents perfect Italian style; my only lamentation is that I was unable to acquire aluminum Ergo shifters and had to “settle” for carbon. The Bianchi XLEV2 hails from the Pantani Period and, while it sports the same top tube length, is more upright than the TSX, has a taller head tube, and boasts a higher bottom bracket. The Cervelo R3 is 2006’s Roubaix-winning carbon fiber lightweight masterpiece of contradictions: light, stiff, and strong.
But more importantly, these three bicycles represent three eras in my own evolution as a Velominatus. The EV2 was acquired upon my return to the sport and was my first experience with a truly fantastic bike shop. I bought the frame and wheels from Grand Performance and sourced the rest from eBay; after months of collecting the bits, the sight of the complete bike was one that shall never escape the gin-infested cobwebs of my memory. The TSX tested my patience to curate the perfect steel machine, learning where to compromise classical convention for modern convenience. The R3 is the end result of a design process that started when Cervelo’s engineers decided to better the design of their R2.5 after Tyler Hamilton rode it to victory in the 2003 Tour de France stage to Bayonne. As it happened, my VMH and I rode the 2003 L’Etape du Tour, which happened to be over that same route. And we were on the course the day of the stage, and watched on television as Tyler Hamilton held the field at bay over roads we ourselves had suffered on only days before from a cafe called La Calamity Jane. Suffice it to say, each one of these bicycles means a tremendous amount to me, and every time I throw my leg over one or the other, all of that climbs aboard with me.
Invariably, however, one of my bicycles always feels better than the others. Somehow, a note is struck that brings a harmony to rider and machine that can’t be found with the others. Thus begins the endless pursuit of identifying the nuances that create the unique conditions which coax the maximum amount of (either) pleasure or The V from our beings. This pursuit, this quest to find what the Italians call la Posizione, is the true work of the Velominatus – to never be satisfied with “good enough”. The tape measure and the plumb line both show the setback on the saddle to be the same, yet it feels better on one bike than it does the other. The bars are the same distance from the saddle on both machines, yet one is a stretch and one is perfect. These are the differences that mathematics dispute but our bodies know exist.
For me, the mystery of the bicycle begins with the notion that I can ride two identically set up machines up the same climb on the same day and have one deliver me to a back ache and the other into the arms of La Volupté.
Vive la Vie Velominatus.
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Tyler wasn't riding a Cervelo when he rode the tour for csc - he was riding a Parlee Z3sl painted as a Cervelo. Sorry.
@DeltaMngo
Very nice bike otherwise. Huge fan of Ridley myself.
@DeltaMngo
Dork disc must go to!
@Musket
In an interview, Hamilton says that he rode a Parlee painted as a Look in the 2002 Giro. There is also mention on the (extremely authoritative and trustworthy) Internet to the effect that some of the US Postal service bikes were Parlees. But do you have a source for the Cervelo story?
@Musket
Shut the front door! Didn't the R2.5 suffer from terminal seat tube to BB joint design failure? How many suckers fell for that one? I know it's nothing new, but it still shouldn't be allowed.
I'm currently building up bike #7. It's a 2001 Wilier Alpe d'Huez with 10 speed Campa of various statuses. @Brett has already been kind enough to fit the ultratorque for me. Pics will be posted on completion.
Frank, I too share the inescapable habit of looking in detail at nearly every bike that goes by. I happen to be in NYC this week, which makes for lots of rubbernecking to see some really wonderful bikes of all modes, and also some hipster abominations.
About 10 years ago I started riding again after a 10-year hiatus, due to innumerable non-reasons. At that point I decided that my old steel Marinoni (Italian framebuilder based in Montreal) was so tired, and whippy that it was scary on the downhills. I decided that I wanted to buy something from one of the Italian classics. Without putting too much thought to it, I bought a Colnago Dream Plus. Aluminum frame with Carbon fork, all Dura-Ace, with an expectedly garish, late-90's Italian paint job, including an airbrushed rider with raised fist on the top tube near the head tube (inspiration??). This is a solid bike, that rides reasonably well, but never really was able to participate in volupté.
Then, three years ago I started riding a lot again, and decided that it was time for n+1. This time I spent lots of time considering, researching, evaluating, measuring, talking to friends-in-the-know. I ended up buying an Independent Fabrication Crown Jewel SE. Steel at its finest, combined with a carbon fork, and again all Dura-Ace. An absolute dream to ride, both up and downhill, and especially when the road is full of curves, as it often is among the vineyards, and olive groves and mountains of Catalonia where I ride. More and more hours in the saddle. Volupté returns. Granfondos in the Pyrenees, Dolomites and Alps, performance, squiggly lines on graphs of distance, time, power, but above all an emphasis on the pleasure of riding. And completely aware how fortunate I am to have the opportunity, health, and time to ride where I ride.
Then, of course the thoughts of n+1 come back, slowly at first. Should I be riding carbon? Would my back be grateful? Would the Marie-Blanque be less of a sufferfest? More research, conversations, measurements,... And now I have another IF, this time a Corvid. All carbon, all ENVE carbon actually. Now I switch back and forth between these two bikes that have almost exactly the same geometry (the Corvid is 0.5deg steeper on the headtube), and exactly the same position. The two bikes ride very differently and the position feels different, but both are more than willing to help me search for volupté. I had thought that I would end up abandoning the steel bike, but that is not the case at all. The springy-ness and life that she shares with me is a pleasure. At the same time the tightness and response of the Corvid is remarkable.
One of the pleasures and problems of a custom bike is the fact that it is, well, custom. Infinite choice of geometry and colour is paralyzing for me. I did have one thing clear though. No combination of red, white and black that virtually all high-end bikes have these days, and I wanted to recover the aesthetic of the master framebuilders. So, a greenish-blue pearl (Tahitian pearl they call it) with silver lugs. Combined with today's tech of carbon, Di2, etc.
But, again, it's about the ride.
@DeltaMngo
maybe don't let your son see the gold fish you ran over, they are still stuck to the spokes.
Every darn time I think I'm set with bikes I come up with a very good reason, at least in my own mind, that I need a new one.
For now though, I think I am set. I hope.
#1 - flash carbon road
#2 - flash Italian steel
#3 - solid Italian steel with full fenders (winter, rain, lockup)
#4 - very nice Al/carbon CX
#5 - Sunday riding Italian steel
Just writing that out makes it seem like I have too many, which I might, but then again I can always think of something new I need. Oh well, Vive La Vie Velominatus.
@Fredrik
To bad the black of the frame tubing does not match that of the seatpost, stem and rims, especially since it's all made by ENVE. Can you post a pic of your CJ as well?
Of no relevance to the current chat, but check out Gregory Bauge's bike handling in this clip....
Mega save