Exceedingly Good Writing

On the face of it Competitive Cyclist would appear to be just another one of many box-shifting big-brand evangelists with a pretty website, replete with all the 'right' logos to sell bikes. And a US one at that, which for an unrepentant Europhile makes me immediately assume that they really just don't understand racing in Europe, or anything that surrounds it. New kids on the block, surely, with a modus operandi of uninspiring lip service to the marketing departments of the various product manufacturers in their line up (for the most part, read 'copy-and-paste' from the latest press release). Next, simply pile the kit high and sell it, well, not that cheaply at all. And because it's online, you can't even get to fettle the stuff before you buy it. It's the price we pay for modernity, right?

So, after that uncharacteristic xenophobic sleight, I'm suitably embarrassed to admit that once I'd bothered to have a scratch beneath the glossy surface, I've been pleasantly delighted to find some really insightful English-language journalism on the CC pages, much better than I've ever seen on equivalent UK cycling retailer sites who might claim a stronger bond with the European scene, or at least some kind of residual kinship. Of course I'm aware that CC's writing is just part of a very persuasive marketing strategy to get me to buy into their brand, clever Roy Brooks prose to differentiate them from their rivals in very competitive market. If nothing else, I'm finding reading articles on their site an extremely enjoyable experience, which, surely is the whole point: keep me on there long enough, and who knows? I might buy something from them - and feel good about it too. It's refreshing to read something intelligent like this example, from the Willier Triestina frames page, which jibes nicely with my own opinion, and fears, on where bike companies are going within the industry, and by extrapolation, the sport itself:

The 21st Century has not been kind to the titans of Italian bicycle manufacturing. Brands that were iconic from the Gimondi era to Saronni, then from Saronni to Argentin, then from Argentin to Bartoli -- sadly, many have faded from consequence. The forces of globalization and the expectations of a new generation of cyclists (more keen on performance, less so on romance) have definitively re-set the pecking order. Prestige, desirability, and the very viability of countless Italian companies bear little resemblance to the market landscape of the 90's. No category of Italian goods has been spared: Choices are narrower than ever before for wheels, tires, bars stems, and most of all framesets.

This indictment implies that today, we - the public, the market - are no longer bothered about heritage, provenance, artistry or individuality, in a similar way that we abandoned local shops in favour of out-of-town hypermarkets and shopping malls because we were convinced that they were somehow better. Isn't it also this type of warped business logic that's responsible for the demise of 'unprofitable' classic European races like the Grand Prix des Nations, Midi Libre, and the near-loss of Paris-Nice, to name only a few? Given the trend, ultimately it's possible that the very essence of what cycling surely is, as embodied in races like these, will be diluted and lost, replaced by a dismal F1-style circus, where anonymous, indistinguishable riders, reduced to pedalling billboards in helmets and shades (there's a whole further post on that topic), will compete in cycling devoid of any sense of history and romance, of what those passionate about wine might term terroir. In its place, bite-sized consumer-friendly circuit events, requiring half-time cheer-leader style product-placement 'entertainment' to keep the fans supposedly engaged. Most of these will simply be the disinterested, yet grateful, recipients of 'corporate hospitality', for sure. Not a cheery thought. Contrex swallowed by Coke, Merlin Plage just done by Nike, Radioshack replacing Renault, Scott for Scapin. You get the picture.

It's not often that you'll finding quality writing on a site whose ultimate goal is to simply sell you stuff. I'm enthused how CC's writing succinctly sums up much of what Rohan Dubash and I have sadly witnessed and discussed over the last few years. We both love cycling, and sure, we're no doubt emotionally attached to the modern bikes we've decided to purchase, but we're certainly more that just nostalgic for the past. As the CC blog points out elsewhere, we're certainly 'unaddicted to sentimentality'. Rohan has nevertheless described the bike industry he works in today as being predominantly uninspiring and bland, devoid of emotion, with little to significantly differentiate between brands. Is this a failure of the manufacturers, removing the vital DNA from their products by, for example, outsourcing manufacture to the Far East, leaving marketing-types nothing to go on to except to enthuse over over a new logo, some fancy graphics or pointless design innovations - neigh, 'systems' - described with ridiculous TL and FLAs, with graphic applications to remind you as such? Once the very soul has been removed from a product - and that's the terroir argument again - it must be impossible to engender excitement and brand loyalty, because there's simply no credible backstory to be told. I particularly like this article about Franco bikes on CC's superbly written company blog, the Service Course, which goes some way to describing how I feel, and indeed, gives a ray of hope for the future:

Franco is a company you should get to know. Given the ever-growing and ever-darker dual shadows of Specialized and Trek, their business model is a logical next step within the bike industry. What Franco is doing has already been successfully done in fashion, in hotels, in restaurants and in other verticals: When the preponderance of product choices are both homogenous and broadly available, even if these choices are of reasonable quality and economic value, a certain segment of customers will make buying decisions based on emotional affinity instead.

So, just as we woke up and realised that there was a joy in returning to small, local, independent retailers, how we embraced the Slow Food movement and rediscovered the importance of where our food comes from and how it tastes, I sincerely hope that it's not too late for something similar to happen within cycling. Maybe the trend for retro clothing pioneered by Rapha, hand-built steel frames with reworked lugs, fork crowns and chrome and equipped with NOS components and the popularity of events like L'Eroica constitute a positive sign.

The Bike is Ready (But I'm Not)

Many thanks to my old mate Rohan at Sigma Sport for transforming my C40 from the heap of crud I'd let it become (Boo! Shame! Stone him!) and back into the beautiful machine it was supposed to be. The poor thing has been banished to my loft for the past three years after a dismal performance on it at La Marmotte: I only managed to haul my fat arse and creaking back to the top of the Croix de Fer before despondantly turning round, descending back to Bourg d'Oisans and getting pissed in the sun over steak-frites in a (rather splendid) bar. Mmmm - not something you'd expect to read on a blog all about the love of cycling is it, eh?

I'd done the RAID Pyreneen the year before that, and was riding the best I've ever been since my early 20s. I'd trained well through the winter, done lots of flexibility work, and the ride was one that made me fall in love with the bike all over again. I felt really good about myself, as if I'd finally matched the constant unfair demands I put on myself to be that fit and to actually make use of some of the ability I believe I do have, but more often than not have wasted. I talk the talk, but walking's always been a bit of an issue.

So, it's been hidden away because I felt I somehow didn't deserve to ride such a bike. All my training rides have been on my deathly-dull burgundy Look KG176, which is more a shade of brown in a certain light, appropriately. The lack of training I did for the Marmotte back then has been duly replicated this time round too, but then at least there's the opportunity here to hopefully 'ride myself in' with the longer, flatter initial stages. That's what I'm hoping anyway.

The bike looks awesome IMHO. Blue Colnago grip tape has been swapped for crisp white Deda tape, and it really brings the whole bike up a notch - there's much unpainted carbon weave around, and the bike was much too dark, even if black is currently in vogue. Rohan cleaned it all up, and finally cut the fork steerer to length. I'd been riding around with a 1" Martello Tower atop the Deda stem despite considering myself a perfectionist on a bike, so clearly my standards have been slipping with age. Now it's 10mm of carbon spacer below, 5mm above to give us a bit of play if needed, but more importantly to give the stem a larger area of steerer to clamp onto.



Long and low position. 14cm Deda Newton stem to accommodate my Mr Tickle arms.



First-generation Record rear mech, and look at those dinner-plate sprockts: 13-29 Chorus, and I'm sure I'm gonna need it on the Ventoux. I can't believe that Jamesy and I rode up there in '89 with 53-39 rings and 7-speed Maillard screw-on blocks, probably robbed off our cyclo-cross bikes for the trip. Not that the gearing was wrong, but just so unsophisticated.

Note the gear the bike is in, as chosen on all bike adverts ever produced: 53 x 12. I don't think I've ever used it.

It's well documented that Rohan's a perfectionist. Tape installed in 10 minutes, finished not with the usual colour-coded insulation tape which invariably stretches, comes unstuck, leaves gummy adhesive everywhere, but instead painstakingly cut to shape and superglued to give the cleanest of finishes.

Ubiquitous shot of that head badge. What is it about Italian bikes? Or cars? Or scooters? Or food? Mama mia, why aren't we riding across Italy for goodness sake? Santa Patata!

One of the original Record carbon chainsets: saw it, wanted it, haemorrhaged £550 for it. Aluminium exo-skeleton, hand-wrapped in carbon fibre. Beautiful, and apparently made by Zipp... Water bottles to match the frame's NL30 paint scheme sourced from the US.

We swapped my light-blue Michelin Pro-Race for something that better fits this Italian classic. I'd hurriedly and reluctantly had to change my knackered blue CX twin treads at La Marmotte for them (further proof of a lack of preparation) as they were all I could get after the 90-minute queue in the only bike shop in Bourg where the hassled machanic really didn't appreciate my asking him to fit them. No wonder the sidewalls came back covered in black greasy fingerprints, him blowing out his cheeks to produce the classic French 'boff', in true je m'en foutiste tradition. It was just a further item on the list of excuses for packing. French tyres on an Italian bike is verging on sacrilege, and Ro had a small, until-now secret, stash of these retro-looking CX with exposed amber cotton sidewalls that just seem to fit the era of the machine perfectly. I love the way the Italian tricolour is used in the 'V' of Vittoria, and that the tyre has only a reasonable amount of pointless technical TLA/FLA guff printed on the side.

I've tried and failed here to replicate the pant-wettingly cool ads that used to appear in Winning Magazine for Ten Speed Drive Imports, if you ever remember them: always splendid 3/4 shots of the bike - Guerciotti, De Rosa, Somec, Tommasini - inevitably kitted out with the must-have gruppo and components of the time: Camapag C Record, Colbaltos, Almarc leather handlebar covering, 3T Record 84 black stem, San Marco Rolls and more pantographed kit than even a fetishist like Rohan or myself could dream of. Well, maybe not

Here's hoping the weather stays good in France, or those sidewalls are gonna quickly look like sh*te. And here's hoping even more that the long miles and reasonable pace of the ride allow my body to adapt and remember what it's actually like to ride a bike - and enjoy it.