There was a time when bicycles were lovingly handmade by artisans who themselves loved the sport more than those for whom they built the machines. Lugs were filed to become Luggs; chain and seat stays were beautifully chromed for durability despite the grams it added to the frame’s final weight; spokes were chosen for their purpose and laced to hubs and rims in a pattern that suited the specific purpose the wheel was intended to serve. Throughout the process – from building the frame to manufacturing of the components – extra care was taken to make every element of the bicycle beautiful; these bicycles, when you are in their presence, radiate La Vie Velominatus.
As was customary at the time, components would be pantographed and frames repainted and rebranded, leaving behind little evidence of their origin. But hidden in the components and frames were symbols that the manufacturers stamped into their wares to preserve their identity; Colnago their Fiore, Cinelli their C, and Campa their Shield. These symbols have come to hold great meaning within the sport and we of a certain ilk scour the photos of our heroes’ bikes for evidence of their existence.
For a variety of reasons including cost, proprietary tube-shapes, and repeatability of production, these practices have largely died away in mainstream bicycle manufacturing; in fact, nearly every element in the art of bicycle building that requires attention and skill is slowing being eliminated from the craft. Ahead-set stems have replaced the need for a carefully adjusted headset and stem, sealed-bearing bottom brackets and hubs have eliminated the subtle touch required to hold a race in place with one hand while tightening the assembly with the other. By and large, the machines and riders are stronger than the terrain they race over, leaving little practical need for the attention to detail and customization that once came as a matter of course.
There is, however, one magical week of racing where the terrain is still stronger than the riders: the cobbled classics of de Ronde van Vlaanderen and Paris-Roubaix. This is the one week during which the Pros still require highly customized machines and we, as fans, can scour the photos of our heroes’ kit, looking for the symbols tucked away in the components to discern their origins. One such symbol is the brass badge affixed to the valve-hole on Ambrosio rims.
These rims are chosen by the Specialists for their strength on the stones regardless of what wheel sponsorship obligations might exist within the team. Their mystique is further deepened for those of us living in the States because they aren’t available here. It follows, then, that the Golden Ticket, as I call it, is something I’ve coveted for as long as I can remember (which, admittedly, isn’t very long and, upsettingly, keeps getting less long) but have never had a good enough reason to justify procuring from Europe. But Keepers Tour, Cobbled Classics 2012 provided the perfect justification to go about finding a set and I wasted no time in doing so. Upon arrival, the rims spent the better part of two weeks sitting in my living room or next to my bed, patiently waiting for me to pick them up and rub my thumb over the badge, just to reassure myself they were still there.
Not long after the rims arrived, I excitedly loaded a picture of Boonen in the 2010 Ronde and turned the laptop to show my VMH.
Frank: Hey, what do you see.
VMH: Boonen. Goddamn, he’s a stud. Don’t let me too close to him; I can’t be responsible for my actions.
Frank: What about his wheels.
VMH: What?
Frank: Don’t you see? He’s got my rims.
VMH: You can’t possibly know that.
Frank: Openly shows his exasperation by groaning audibly and rolling his eyes. Yes, I do. Check it. You can see the Golden Ticket on his back wheel. Its obvious as shit. What’s wrong with you?
VMH: Sighs, pours another glass of wine. Exits stage left. Hopefully not for good.
*Coincidentally, on the same day that this article was being written, Inrng published a similar (better) article on a related subject of hand-built wheels. Well worth the read: The Dying Art of Wheelbuilding
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View Comments
@Oli
I thought that Oli, BUT your mistake has brought an important aspect of wheelbuilding that I'd been unaware of to light!
After my cycling sensei reminded me that I'd said I was going to strip my hubs, clean, re-grease and rebuild them, I came straight home from our Sunday ride and got on with it. The front hub especially sounded horrible and I'd found it impossible to get it running nicely by adjusting the cones. Upon inspection the cones and cups have pits that must be causing all the noise. My soution, get a new hub and rebuild the wheel, mostly for the experience as I've never built one before but thanks to your post I know just what to do at the valve hole! Thanks.
ps I have new wheels but might keep them till spring, new hub is for a rubbish wheel and I'm on top of a Bianchi hub at 99p with the correct amount of holes.
@Oli
Never built a wheel or anything, but did you mean that there were crossed spokes above the valve? I realize it was a mistake, but what do you mean here?
Nate, Oli, Frank - Sounds good! I think what I've distilled from your feedback is 1) give it a shot and try to get them close by measuring But, 2) listen to your body, as feel from the saddle trumps overmeasuring & overanalyzing.
Thanks.
@eightzero
@eightzero
I don't know if this will help, but I had a very similar situation with my R3 that was driving me crazy. In talking to one of the mechanics at my local shop he suggested that it might be my seat post or saddle since the clicking went away when I would stand. Sure enough after doing a little lube and tightening of those components I have not heard that awful sound since.
@jaja
That is a truly terrifying EPMS. It has already grown its own skeletal structure. Are you concerned it might also grown fangs and claws and attack you? I would be.
@RedRanger
Ah, Good ol' Servais Knaven, the last Dutch winner of Roubaix! You can also see WIlfred Peeters and Big George Hincapie off there on the left. Great shot! Great year!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3whyot73JRA
@jimmy
The tires will have to come off and be stored in the dark like a fine bottle of wine, but of course the wheels will serve regular duty. It would be a crime not to ride them!
@Oli
@Oli
Oli - despite the fact that he didn't commit the sin, would you mind explaining what you *thought* he'd done wrong so I can make sure I don't bugger up my wheels?
@snoov
Why not replace the cones, cups, and bearings?
@Ron
I've got another way, get rid of the measuring tape and stop trying to find the center of the BB. I use a piece of wood (like a blank yard stick) I can mark with a pen. With the crank parallel with the seat tube, put the stick on your pedal platform or axle and keeping the front edge of stick aligned with center of the seat post, sight across the top of the saddle and mark the stick there. Assuming you have the same pedals you can get within a mm or two on the next bike.
I bet that made little sense. This measures the total pedal to saddle height distance.
@Simon If Pinarellos still looked this good I would still lust after them. That is a bel mezzo.