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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View Comments
@snoov
Make it stop!!! PLEASE!!! Make it stop!!!! It's already dead...
@frank
Not to hijack @cyclops possible future project, but there is an excellent blog on this very subject here:
@michael
I just call it "The Can".
@pommy-git
I've lost track of what Pommy means, but it's no matter. Oli will likely have more intelligent things to say than I, but the general idea is that pain is bad, especially if you didn't have it before.
I would start by doing your best to figure out the saddle height and setback on the old bike and trying to match it on the new bike. Get the saddles to the same height (if it's the same saddle and same crank length, measure from the center of the BB to the center of the saddle rail, otherwise measure from the top of the pedal to the top of where you sit on the saddle.)
Then find a flat space next to a wall, lean the bike up and use a plumb line to mark where the bottom bracket is, and drop a plumb line from where you sit in the saddle (pick the same spot, but if it's the same saddle, drop it from the nose of the saddle) to mark where you're pedaling from. Measure that distance and try to replicate it on the other bike.
From there, you'll have to start worrying about bar drop and extension, and finding what works. What's tricky about this is you're changing bike sizes, so you may be going from a too-small frame to a right frame or a right frame to a too-big frame, so it's hard to say that one position over the other was right or wrong without experimentation.
@huffalotpuffalot
:)
I gave them to him last night. He loves the colour!
On another note, I'm trying to decide if I should put a saddle bag on the bike. Maybe a very small one? To carry a spare tube and my multi tool. Why do I get the feeling I'm breaking a rule somewhere...
@frank
Simples - "Pommy" is a term we convicts use to denigrate those that sent us out to this unspoiled pleasure island. Therefore a "Pommy Git" is what we call someone of English nationality when we don't really like them, but respect them none the less. If they're genuinely disliked they will be known as a "Pommy Cunt"
@pommy-git
Did you get fitted for the bike ? Even if you did, it might still be worth going to a bike-fit service and getting your setup looked at before you do too many miles on the new bike.
I was gradually getting more and more pain on the outside of one knee until I went along and with some small adjustments to my cleat position and an insert in one shoe I'm now fine.
@DeltaMngo
Dangerous ground, dangerous ground. First, the goldfish. Now, this question? Uh oh.
@frank
Remove reflectors - done
Dork disk - how do I remove this? Just cut it off?
Extra spacers - shall do this tonight.
@Ron
Damn. Just found Rule #29. Sorry all...my mistake. I wasn't thinking straight. Scrap the saddle bag idea!
@DeltaMngo
Unless you have experience cutting a head tube, I would take it to the shop you bought it at and have them do it.