Nice stuff I’ve seen recently…

Nicolai
Intense
Yeti
Point One Racing
BOS
Moots
Speedvagen
Richard Sachs
Ricky Feather
Ritte
Canyon
Tune

I picked up my new Whyte 19CS last week and have only just got around to taking some photographs of what is undeniably a beautiful bicycle. I’ve not had a super light hardtail for years. The last such racy machine I owned (a Marin Indian Fire Trail) got pinched in London at the end of a very tough year that included riding it across France, Spain and half of Morocco, and then some DH racing when I got back. This was 1998 by the way – turning up to a DH race on a fully rigid aluminium hardtail being considered fairly laughable but not completely insane as it probably would be these days. I came second to last (I think), beaten only by a Frenchman with a pink lycra covered helmet and a huge saddlebag. Anyway, I digress…

The Whyte 19CS is the midrange model in the Whyte carbon HT lineup. I was originally keen to go for the uber-spec XX Works version, but the CS ended up seeming the best option, offering as it does a pretty awesome specification at a more sensible price. Gearing is SRAM X0, brakes are Hayes Stroker Carbon, and contact components are FSA SL-K with a Fizik saddle and seatpost.

I want to use the 19 for fast trail riding and racing. Probably with an emphasis on the former, but we shall see. As such, I’ve already made some changes to the spec. Gone are the 100mm SL-K stem and straight bars – instead I’ve swapped in a 80mm stem and SL-K riser bars. I’m not used to a really racy bars over the front wheel setup, and for trail riding I think the bike will handle better with a wider, shorter reach.

I bought a beautiful pair of Point One Racing Podium flat pedals for the bike – I’m a flat pedal man through and through. However, it’s a thoroughbred race machine and I thought it about time I gave clipless pedals another go, so on went a pair of Crank Bros Eggbeaters. They certainly look nice – whether they end up getting relegated to another bike will depend on my ability to stay attached when required and to detach myself when things go wrong.

As far as the gearing is concerned, I am very tempted to swap the two chainrings for one. Probably a 36 or a 38. On my existing bike I probably spend 95% of the time in the middle ring, and I think the sweet spot for general riding as this bike is currently set up is somewhere in between the chainrings. I can see the front shifter flicking backward and forth unnecessarily. Plus moving to a 1×10 system will drop a fair bit of weight in the process.

The bike came fitted with Conti Race King 2.0 tyres which while being an obvious and high quality choice for a carbon rocket of this caliber are not best suited to the British winter. These have since been swapped over to Panaracer Trailraker 2.1s – not a tyre I’m familiar with, but a well-respected mud performer by all accounts. I’m actually not really used to narrow tyres full stop, so I think it’ll take me a while to get used to the smaller carcass feel. Incidentally, the maiden voyage on the 19 ended up with me pulling half a dozen thorns out of the back tyre, most of which had penetrated the tube as well. Not really the fault of the tyre though – after going off course we ended up pushing along the side of a just trimmed hawthorn hedge bordering a farmer’s field, and all the bikes suffered from multiple punctures afterwards.

The Fulcrum Red Metal 3s look like decent enough wheels, but there’re not super light, so I have been debating getting another pair for race duties. Not sure what yet though – maybe Stans ZTR Crests on Hope Pro III hubs. Or something in carbon? The bike has definite potential for a super light build though – the 19C XX Works is reputedly around 19lb, and I reckon mine (minus chainring, shifter, front mech, with light wheels, tyres, light cassette, etc) should be in the same ballpark. 18lb would be something nice to aim for.

I’ll try to get some action pics up soon, plus some comments on how it rides.

Whyte
Point One Racing
Crank Brothers
Panaracer
No Tubes
Hope Technology

Or not. The image above beautifully sums up the fact that throwing loads of money at a bike won’t suddenly turn you into a cycling style icon. Not only does Lord Sugar look like a hairy old troll dressed as a court jester, he is standing next to the very definition of a midlife crisis bike.

We are talking wheels today, so what is wrong with the examples Lord Sugar is rocking? Well, they are Zipp clinchers. I hate Zipp clinchers. They are heavy. They look crude. They’re just not sexy. They’re just like those original Mavic Cosmic Carbones that were basically an aluminum rim with a carbon aero fairing. I hated them too. Mainly because they weren’t the real deal. Those Zipps probably ride well. I bet they’re stiff, and they probably brake pretty hard. But I wouldn’t touch them with a barge pole.

Fancy wheels are, for 95% of us, an expensive irrelevance. They’re probably more relevant to those of us who time trial, but unless you’re pushing the low 20s for a 10 mile or sub hour for the 25, I reckon your money is better spend on sorting your position, coaching, and training harder. On your standard road bike, they are just an unnecessary luxury.

But unnecessary luxuries are what often makes life worth living. The beuatiful leather bag my girlfriend bought be from the Dover Street Market sale for example. Now I could get the train to London and spend the day carrying my bits and bobs from meeting to meeting in a Sainsburys plastic bag. Tough, resilient, capacious. But also ugly and uncomfortable. I put my things in the Comme des Garcons number? Instantly my day gets better.

Lets face it – having and using tasty kit makes you feel good. The exception that proves the rule is the satisfaction of hammering it past someone on a bike (preferably someone like Lord Sugar) that clearly cost a fortune whilst you yourself are on something ancient / knackered / extremely unfashionable. My old, paint-stripped Cannondale was such a bike – perfect for pasting some AmEx gold card sporting weekend warrior. Alas, when I swapped that frame for a Litespeed (albeit a second hand Tuscany) I immediately had to watch out for fast guys on 20 year old 12 speeds. This phenomenon will be crucially important to me when my English arrives. Despite the fact that my training is supposed to be focused on certain key events this season, the reality is that I will be training to ensure that no-one overtakes me on that bike. Ever. The point at which the owner of a fancy bike decides that being overtaken is not such a big deal is, quite possibly, the most tragic point in their riding career. A point of no return. A veritable nexus, where all dignity dissolves, and they find themselves taking all their mirrors down…

Anyway. Back to wheels. Fancy wheels are, for me, an exercise in aesthetic statement making. Light weight, stiffness, ride quality and longevity are of course considerations too, but they are of less interest.

So, first up we have Zipp. Tasty looking wheels, as long as they’re tubulars. I wouldn’t mind a pair of 303s on my English, but they’re getting fairly ubiquitous on the roads (as far as fancy wheels are concerned anyway), especially when you get nearer London. There is also the triathlon connection to bear in mind. Not something that particular bothers me, but some folk have an issue with anything that looks like it should be bearing the weight of a dripping bikini-wearing bloke with numbers drawn all over him.

Corima. I was never particularly fond of Corima in days gone by. Rather like Spinergy, I thought the four spoke wheel not quite as appealing visually as the trispoke. I have relented somewhat as of late, and indeed recently purchased a Corima back wheel for Project Lo Pro. This decision was based on my desire to maintain something of a late 80s / early 90s look with the bike. The wheel in question was a bargain buy on eBay, and should lend the machine a suitably vintage speed machine look. I don’t think I would put such a wheel on the English though – it could start to look too much like something this NYC uber commuter might ride.

Next up we have, for many, the ultimate choice. The CarbonSports Lightweght. As German as Jan Ullrich, wearing lederhosen, drinking beer and anticipating his next sausage.

The Lightwheel wheel system is pretty awesome. Light as a feather, stiff as corpse, with stealthy all-carbon good looks. Also fiendishly expensive. I’d have a pair. Dunno about the clinchers though, and there’s the rub. With the ultimate wheels, you’d need to be rocking tubs I reckon. Fancy tubs at that – either FMB Records or Veloflex Extremes. The more money you spend the more deliciously impractical your ride should be. So Lightweights for me would always be the icing on the cake – for when I’ve got my training wheels, nice summer ride / race wheels, and then have enough cash to blow on something for really special occasions. In the meantime I leave you with Jan riding his Lightweight rings around Mayo-naise and Lance on the way to another not quite really special occasion.

Now, Madfiber is a new(ish) kid on the block, and a company I have been paying more and more attention to as of late. Their wheel design is spectacular and exudes a similar weapons grade aerospace feel to the Lightweights. These wheels look mean and fast. They are apparently planning to bring out a set of clincher versions before too long, but I must admit that I’d be pretty keen to pimp the English with a set of the tubular versions. Again, very tasty…

Next, Enve (previously Edge Composites). The connoisseurs choice perhaps. These are Rob’s favoured high end rim, and I do like the idea of having him build the entire bike, wheels too. Perhaps with these Enve 45 clincher rims built onto Extralite or Alchemy hubs. Fiendishly light, nicely aero, and exuding deliciousness.

Last but not least, the local option. I’ve already been in touch with the guys at Strada about some carbon-rimmed wheels for my new Whyte hardtail. They are best known for their road wheels though, and have various options including these lovely 50mm carbon rimmed lovelies. Seriously tempting.

I have a few months yet before I have to make my mind up. I will almost certainly get Rob to build up a pair of training wheels for the bike – probably Kinlin rims on Alchemy hubs – which will be more than adequate to be getting on with. Ahhh, this is so much fun…

(Thanks for Bikesnob NYC for drawing attention to the uber commuter above.)

Anyway, when the BB spanner arrived I went to work for a second time, cleaned out the BB shell, and installed the new bottom bracket. I reassembled everything, and then, hey presto, the indexing was out. Rather than sit back and think about why this had happened, I immediately started buggering about with the rear mech. And within seconds I had snapped the little cable clamp piece – the separate bit that the cable clamp bolt goes through before it screws into the mech itself. So, in order to cure a squeak, i had replaced an (admittedly fairly well worn) bottom bracket that was entirely unrelated to the squeak, fucked up my gearing, and then put the bike completely out of action. Great.

Luckily, the helpful people at Condor managed to secure me a new clamp, so I was only off that bike for a few days. I got the gears working again. Well, not entirely satisfactorily – I have failed to get the mech to attain the dizzy height of the innermost sprocket ever since – something I really should remedy before too long.

Anyway, today I decided to abandon my planned ride outside, as my legs were a bit tired still from a bit over four hours yesterday. And also it was bloody freezing. So I decided to do a turbo – but before that, maybe the bike deserved a quick wash. Halfway through the scrubbing I thought it might be worthwhile treating the chain to a decent scrub. I used Chain-L for the first time the last time I had given the chain a wash, and it’s been really bloody great. However, I’ve done about 800 miles since then, and the roads have been quite grubby recently, so it was probably about time for a wash and brush up.

Off came the chain and into a pot of degreaser, along with the links. I let it soak while I went to work on the rest of the bike, and then returned for some decent scrubbing. I then picked out the chain, dropped it into another pot of hot soapy water to rinse, and then flung the contents of pot 1 into the undergrowth, thinking how stupid it would be to do such a thing if one had been foolish enough to leave the Connex links in the pot.

Which I had. I found the first within about 5 minutes, but after another twenty, on my hands and knees in the muck, with worms crawling up through the soil on a mission to fuck things up for me even more, I admitted defeat, returned to the bike to rinse it down, and, hey presto, there was the link on the ground. I must’ve dropped it when lifting the chain from pot to pot.

All well again. Hmmmm. So I started washing the wheels down. The front wheel QR skewer seemed to have lodged solid inside the axle. I tapped it, squirted it with GT85, tapped and twisted it some more. Nothing. So I gave it a whack. And the end of the bloody thing bent. Whacked it again, and it knocked the bearing cap off. So I dismantled it, and now I am left with an Ambrosio axle with a bent bloody skewer STILL STUCK INSIDE!

I only wanted to give my bike a nice wash, not (nearly) destroy the drivetrain and smash my wheels to pieces. What a fucking nightmare. I put my Rolf Vector on the front instead and did an hour of turbo, watching Apocalypse Now – the only film that could compete in any way with my black mood. I then snapped quite unfairly at my girlfriend. (Although considering her callous breakage of a beautifully cut high ball glass later in the evening it looks like I was just about 3 hours early with the snapping…) I was left with only two options – either arm myself with a carving knife and go on a cat killing spree. Or stick up some photos of Mario Cipollini. Luckily for my neighbours, I decided on the latter…

Despite the absolutely unexceptional nature of my time trial career (which could be succinctly summed up as sporadic, unprepared and underwhelming) I have always hankered over a dedicated time trial bike. Unlike a conventional road bike (which has quite a variety of qualities expected of it), there is definitely something particularly beguiling about a machine conceived with one thing in mind – absolute speed. Now, when some bloke comes whizzing past me on a piece of sculpted carbon, over-pressured Chrono Evos rumbling like thunder, tucked into a ludicrously hunched position, topped off with a spaceman helmet and a skinsuit that ought to carry an 18 certificate for the benefit of spectators, I am sensible enough to realise that the reason he is going faster than me is entirely down a combination of his heinous training schedule and probably plenty of natural talent. The advantages that his equipment bestows are secondary to his physical preperation, and only really become significant when he is going proper fast. Only a complete imbecile (or Alan Sugar – although that distinction might not actually be necessary) would go out and buy a fully fledged time trial machine, replete with carbon wheels and all the other associated aerodynamic paraphernalia unless he had already proved himself in some way against the clock.

Luckily, I have proved myself against the clock. I have proved that I am average. Possibly below average. But proven nonetheless. So, onto the next step. Some months ago I came across a site called Fixedwheel which details all sorts of fixed gear time trialling endeavours, along with gear inches vs RPM vs speed tables to facilitate gearing decisions and pedalling strategies. There are also plenty of tales of fixed gear hill-related derring-do that make my knees creak just at the thought.

Anyway, the idea of a fixed gear TT bike was appealing both in terms of simplicity and budget. As such, when I recently discovered an attractive looking Brian Rourke lo pro frame and forks on eBay it was time to initiate Project : Lo Pro.

The frame had been custom built for a rider of pretty much the same stature as the one I enjoy (anthopometric data of Vitruvian perfection I should imagine) from Reynolds 653 tubing. I am led to believe that this was a mixed tube set, using some 753 (for the stays) and 653 main tubes, with 531 for the forks. The frame features the delightfully detailed wrap-around seat stays (visible in the second image) and also horizontal dropouts that will allow it to be run fixed without too much complication. As far as the materials are concerned, I am not an aficionado of Reynolds and have absolutely no idea what to expect, other than (hopefully) a fairly comfortable ride. I think the frame had enjoyed a bright blue 80s style paint job originally, but the vendor had had the machine blasted and then powdercoated the rather attractive grey / blue visible in the images here.

I now wish he hadn’t, because one of my original specifications for Project : Lo Pro was that the bike should be stealthy. It would have been great fun to embark on a fluorescent retro aesthetic – fluorescent yellow to pink to blue graduated spray job, fluoro cable outers, original Profile tri-bars with bright pink bar tape, maybe a Look Ergo stem, white Turbo saddle, white Specialized Tri Spokes. You dig. But while that would be a magnificently enjoyable exercise in questionable taste, it would inevitably draw far too much attention to me, and I would prefer to remain rather more anonymous if it’s all the same to you.

So, you see the bike mocked up in its current state sitting upon a trusty pair of Rolf Vector Pros. Not for long though. Say what you want (but I’m not listening) – that frame is going for a respray. When it returns, it will be 100% weapons grade stealth black. Matt or satin, I’m not quite sure yet. The rear wheel will disappear and in its place will be a Corima 4 spoke carbon track wheel (another eBay acquisition). The forks will be held in place by a Tange Levin LV1500 NJS headset. Instead of going retro on the aero setup, I think I’ll use a Profile quill to 1 1/8th Aheadset converter, and then stick some modern aerobars on top.

At the other end, I think I might pilfer the Easton carbon seatpost from my Litespeed (which has always deserved a titanium seatpost anyway) and, in a nod to tradition, attach an original black Flite saddle. The front wheel will remain, but probably shod in a black tyre instead of the red Tufo S3 that I must have bought on a particularly dull day. I’m not sure about cranks yet – maybe a Miche set with a 50 tooth chainring?

Project : Lo Pro certainly promises to be entertaining though, and luckily there are some months yet before I have the chance to suffer the indignity of being overtaken astride this particular stealth machine.

Like countless other cyclists, I spend a not inconsiderable amount of time daydreaming about new bicycles. Not to mention ogling images, reading reviews, creeping around bike shops hoping that a sales assistant won’t pounce and I would be forced to admit that I’m, “Only looking, thanks” when in fact I would much rather be walking out with something expensive and shiny under my arm. However, with an ambitious programme planned for 2011 I have finally decided that it’s time to stop dreaming and finally buy a new machine – something racy and exotic, flattering to ride. A masterpiece of engineering that I will enjoy for many years.

I bought my first road bike with a chunk of student loan, back in the late 90s. It was a Cannondale R-series – I think the frame was called the R3.0. It had gigantic oversized tubes and dropouts that were cantilevered about 3 inches away from where the seatstays met the chainstays. I think the fork was steel originally, but I swapped it for a cheap carbon / alloy version. Cheap because it had already been cut down, and with a longish headtube this meant that I had to run the stem slammed down against the upper bearing race. The groupset was fairly rubbish too, so at a later date I upgraded it all to Campag Chorus. It was pretty stiff, but the ride was utterly appalling and it did a good job of putting me off aluminium road bikes for life.

About five years ago I bought a second-hand Litespeed Tuscany frame – virtually immaculate and a great deal. It came with a very tasty full carbon Look fork, and it was a massive improvement over the Cannondale. I remember the first ride in vivid detail – I reached a section of crumpled and badly pitted tarmac which, when riding the ‘Dale caused a good deal of teeth clenched grimacing. The Litespeed floated over it like a magic carpet – it was uncanny. It felt like there was suspension at work, rather than a pair of gracefully curved 3Al / 2.5V titanium seatstays.

The Litespeed has been fantastic, taking on everything from road race and time trial to a lightweight solo tour across Vietnam, the latter achieved with no modifications save a 13-29 cassette and a Carradice saddlebag. It’s got plenty of years left, but I’ve come round to the idea that it deserves a younger, faster stable-mate to share the load.

There are plenty of decent bikes out there, and I’m under no illusion that my “need” is anything other than desirous longing. Still, if I’m going to spend some cash I want to make sure that I’m going to end up with something special. My initial plan was to buy a carbon bike. Something along the lines of a Wilier Cento Uno, or a Cervelo R3. These bikes appeal both in terms of race-proven reputation and visual flair. The Superleggera version of the Cento is especially beautiful.

But as fancy as these bikes are (and both are technological wonders far beyond any requirements that I could ever hope to argue necessary for my riding) there is, to me, still something missing. Maybe it’s because I view the carbon bike experience as something transitory. (Less with mountain bikes, which I see as having a naturally shorter lifespan – with me riding them anyway.) I want a bike that I’ll still want to ride in 20 years time. I say that because a couple of years ago I bought a late 70s Colnago which comes out on special occasions and it is an absolute joy to ride – whilst not as responsive as the Litespeed, it has an arguably superior quality of ride. It’s quick too.

So, a metal bike it would be. My first port of call was Mosquito Bikes, where I had a lengthy and enjoyable conversation with a chap whose name I forget about the various frames on display.  With my experience of titanium I rapidly developed a fondness for Moots – the Vamoots looked like just the thing.  Then I laid eyes on a Pegoretti! It had only been a few days since I’d been to the screening of the Ben Ingham film about Dario Pegoretti, and it didn’t take much to persuade me that a Marcelo would admirably fit my criteria of speed, suppleness and style.

But I walked away, and in so doing allowed the seed of indecision to set hold. The lead time for a custom Pegoretti is considerable. It might be a year before it would be ready. A not unreasonable delay for a dream bike, but it would arrive too late for the 2011 season. I started to look elsewhere. The De Rosa Corum was a serious consideration for a while too, exuding as it does a compelling combination of tradition and technology.

Then I remembered a chap whose website I had discovered some months before. An Englishman, called (Rob) English, based in Eugene, Oregon. An engineer, bike builder, racer and time trialist of some renown. The gallery of bikes that Rob has built is multifarious, featuring everything from a balance bike for a two-year-old all the way through to what is to my eye the most amazing and purposeful-looking TT bike on the planet (both of which are illustrated below – the kiddie steed is the one being manufactured). Rob builds in steel, and his quest for performance and speed has led to all sorts of developmental cunning in both design and construction.  Steel building is obviously big news at the moment, and there are a lot of builders who are making their names by pursuing more retro affectations.  Not Rob.  Every new bike appears to build on the last.  And as I think someone has already pointed out, of all the builders in the States, Rob is almost certainly the one riding and competing at the highest level, which bodes well if you’re paying for performance.  Really though, you only have to look at his work to appreciate how amazing the bikes are.

So, the dialogue has begun, but only just. The first step will be for me to undertake a professional cycle fit. I am fairly confident that my position on my current bikes suits my shape and riding style, but I am happy to pay to confirm that this is indeed the case when a good deal more money is going to be spent. Beyond that, I have not thought that far ahead. A compact frame, with an integrated seat post and internally routed cables. Light and stiff. That’s about as far as I’ve got. The custom bike journey might not be for everyone, but I am very excited about it already!