Welcome to Bike Snob NYC, a member of the Lifestyle Activity Snob, Inc. family of publications:
You can be sure Cigar Snob is 100% free from tedious cycling content, unlike that Cigar Aficionado rag:
I read that paragraph five times and I still don’t understand it. Nevertheless, someone should tell Cigar Aficionado that bike is to cycling as vaping is to fine cigars. See, whether it’s bikes or cigars, the key is to relax and enjoy:
Of course I do also enjoy a fine road bike, and I’ve been getting to know the LeMond Tete de Course:
On Friday we disturbed what I believe to be a turkey vulture attempting to relax and enjoy a meal:
Mmm, delicious!
I also discovered that the 28mm rear tire of the Tete de Course was gently rubbing the chainstays on climbs:
So I changed both tires for a pair of 25s before heading out again on Saturday:
Oh, sorry, wrong bike:
As I rode, I passed a deer carcass on the side of the road, and I happed to notice that it was missing a leg. It then occurred to me that the road I was riding runs parallel to the one I had been riding the day before, and that I was pretty close to where I’d seen that vulture, meaning that the leg could very well have belonged to this very deer:
So tickled was I by this bit of macabre serendipity that I almost turned around to take a photo of the dead deer, but I was enjoying the ride too much and didn’t want to lose my momentum, which is probably a good thing since you’ve already seen more carrion than you need to on a Monday morning…though with both photos to study while attempting to keep our breakfasts down we could have confirmed whether the leg did in fact belong to the deer, which is the sort of satisfying roadkill-related closure you rarely get to experience.
As for the bike, clearance was much better:
And the tire swap netted me the extra few millimeters I needed to ride in blissful silence:
Thanks to Classic Cycle I’ve had the opportunity to ride a variety of different road bikes from a variety of different eras, and some of them have confounded my expectations. For example, I didn’t even consider the possibility I might actually like the Vengeance Bike, and it turned out to be one of my favorite road bikes ever:
Meanwhile, I just assumed the Colnago Bititan would feel very smooth because it was titanium, but in fact it felt quite stiff:
It would be a stretch to say I didn’t like the Bititan–I mean I could certainly live happily with it–but I never fell for it in quite the same way I’ve felt for some of the other bikes Classic Cycle have sent this way over the years.
Meanwhile, the Teledyne was almost too smooth, and it was so flexy it was borderline unnerving:
I mean it was a total pleasure to ride, but that fork deflected like a spouse in an argument, and like a marriage where both parties can’t be completely honest with each other I feared for the bike’s long-term prospects. (Then again it’s survived for almost 50 years so maybe it’s like one of those old couples that seem like they fight all the time but really love each other.)
Then there are the bikes where I don’t really know what to think beforehand because I’m too distracted by the aesthetics. For example, before the Davidson showed up all I really noticed was the insane splatter paint:
If I were ordering a bike I’d never choose the finish that suggested multiple people had been butchered nearby. However, the bike won me over immediately, and because I liked riding it so much I also grew to like the wild look. In fact I came close to keeping it, though I’m glad it wound up with a reader.
So far the LeMond is a little bit like the Davidson, except it was the materials and not the finish that I couldn’t get past at first:
I like simple bikes, which is why after years of riding I’ve got a bunch of steel ones, only one of which has indexed shifting and disc brakes:
So when I see a bike like the LeMond I think it’s gimmicky. I think it’s trying too hard, and in turn I think it makes me look like I’m trying too hard. I think it’s asking for trouble by combining two different materials for seemingly no reason–and not just two different materials, but two expensive materials.
But like the Davidson, as soon as I got on it I realized it was an exceptionally nice road bike, and after the first 100 miles there’s been nothing whatsoever to undermine that impression. Bikes like the LeMond are like high-end restaurants: when you’re walking past them you think they’re tacky and that everyone in them is a douchebag, but when you’re in one yourself and you’ve had a drink or two you’re like, “Okay, this is pretty nice”.
As for whether gluing crabon and titanium together is asking for trouble I have no idea. Five seconds of Internet research suggests crabon and titanium don’t fall victim to galvanic corrosion or whatever, but I think that’s specifically “commercially pure” titanium, which titanium bikes are not. For whatever it’s worth, I didn’t really find any reports on the Internet about these things failing, though I also have no idea how many of them Trek sold in the first place. I did find this on the Ti Cycles website about a Tete de Course that needed a new downtube, though they didn’t say how or why it broke in the first place:
Obviously you absolutely can’t go wrong buying a frame made out of just one material, especially if it’s steel, though I am willing to give Trek the benefit of the doubt when it comes to gluing stuff together because they have been doing it for a long time:
Then there’s the fact that the economics of new bikes and “vintage” bikes are completely different–and very much in your favor, even when it comes to the exotics. I don’t remember firsthand how much the Tete de Course was back in 2003, but according to this story it was like $5,000, which means today it would be like $8,000. But today you could probably pick up a Tete de Course in nice shape and with good parts for less than what a typical “entry level” road bike costs. Sure, it’s the bike frame equivalent of a gold diamond-encrusted watch, but besides that it’s got no weird proprietary fittings and takes all standard parts, and with the passage of time (and the diminished price tag to match) all that material gimmickry starts to feel a little bit more like vintage charm, or at least endearing quirkiness. I guess all that’s a roundabout way of saying it’s a pretty cool bike.
Anyway, after a two straight days on the Tete de Course I got back on the Cervino, just to see how different it felt, and you know what?
It really didn’t feel all that different. The Tete de Course is obviously much lighter, but you don’t really notice that until you actually pick it up. And obviously you go about shifting the Cervino a lot differently, but even the old freewheel shifts quite smoothly now with the 10-speed chain, and unless you’re racing you can just settle in and enjoy the differences between the two drivetrains because there’s nothing on the line. Otherwise they both feel fast, smooth and comfortable, and apart from perhaps the absence of a lower gear one bike doesn’t really leave you wanting for the other.
I guess a nice bike is a nice bike.
