In 2024, for the first time in my life, I saw through a New Year’s resolution, that being to reduce my total number of bicycles. Now, I didn’t exactly cut it close to the bone, but I did manage to get my total number of road bikes down to three–arguably two more than anybody really needs, but pretty good for a semi-professional bike blogger and recovering middle-aged Fred. I had the Milwaukee, which was to be my “main” road bike:
I had the Cervino, which was my ceremonial cosplay bike, because there’s really nothing like riding a classic road bike in wool on a crisp autumn day:
And I had the Faggin, which was my rusty, dinged-up hot rod, and which also has sentimental value:
Not only that, but the ride is far more refined than the bike’s garish appearance would suggest, and it’s only enhanced by the recent addition of those Spinergys and their surprisingly springy ride quality, though the exquisite thrill of knowing it could end at any moment when the wheels collapse is no doubt part of what makes the sensation so intoxicating.
Please note that the Normcore Bike DOES NOT COUNT, as it’s now my elder son’s bike:
Though there’s something both endearing and deserving about this unassuming bicycle, and one day I’ll take it back and adorn it with something ridiculously extravagant like a Campagnolo C-Record drivetrain complete with Delta brakes, just because:
Either that or I’ll just slap a pair of Spinergys on there and call it good.
Anyway, I was quite pleased with myself for consolidating my holdings, and I was ready to ride these three humble road bikes into retirement–or at least until I was no longer able to reach the bars and I became a full-time Rivendell rider, whichever came first. I had all I needed, and that was that:
But fate had other plans, and I was soon the recipient of a battered and bruised Surprise Marinoni:
As well as a new test-cycle from Classic Cycle:
Once again, I was overloaded and over-roaded, and naturally I’m now in the difficult situation of having fallen for both. I had plenty of frustration in overhauling the ‘Noner, yet despite myself it’s now running quite smoothly:
And even the 8-speed Ergo levers I’d just assumed were moribund feel fantastic after being treated to new hoods, cables, and a liquid lubricant shvitz, and they miss nary a shift:
As for the LeMond, having eased into an all-steel existence, I figured I’d revel in the material excesses of the early 21st century for awhile and send it back:
But naturally I’ve become infatuated with it. Not only is it both roomy and comfortable, but it’s quite light on its feet, and while I’ve never cared much about bike weight or endeavored to build a superlight bike, once you have one it starts to feel like something you should have at least for special occasions, in the same way you sometimes feel like using the fancy wine glasses. It’s also like having a second chance at the Litespeed, which I returned after much soul-searching, and which is one of the few former bikes I still feel a pang of longing for when I look at it:
I don’t even feel anything when I look at the Engin, if you can believe it, and that was a custom bike made just for me:
But the Litespeed I miss, go figure.
Also like the Litespeed, the LeMond hails from the era that was the high water mark of my Fredness, so there’s a certain satisfaction in riding around on a bike that I could never have dreamed of owning at the time as it was the rarefied domain of dentists and other jet-setters who live impossibly glamorous lifestyles:
So if the LeMond Tete de Course was the most exotic bike you could purchase from the Great Trek Bicycle Making Company at the time, does that mean in 20 years I’ll be similarly infatuated with the top-of-the-line Teks I scoff at today, such as the new Madone?
Setting aside for the moment the very real possibility I’ll be physically unable to ride such a bike in 20 years, I guess I could see it happening. Besides it probably being a lot of fun to ride, I also suspect that that by then all the stuff that currently turns me off about this bike because of my retrogrouchical predudices (the disc brakes, the battery-powered derailleurs, the integrated everything) will seem impossibly quaint, and I’m sure that by 2044 I’ll be going on and on about how satisfying it is to press an actual button to shift instead of changing gears by means of telepathy or blinking or pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth or clenching your sphincter or however it is that drivetrains will work by then. (Probably some combination of all the aforementioned methods depending on personal preference and how you feel about inserting your “blips” rectally.) In fact it’s entirely possible that the very idea of riding a road bike outside will be a think of the past; just as the “safety bicycle” replaced the pennyfarthing, so too could the Zwift bike replace the regular road bike:
“Safety bike,” you say? Well it doesn’t get any safer than that.
Then again, I’m not sure it’s as simple as the passage of time, because I’m not sure that in 20 years a Trek Madone will fill me with a sense of nostalgia. The feel of a Dura-Ace 9-speed lever or the look of a Chris King headset in a titanium headtube evokes for me the aspirations of yesteryear and the the satisfaction of having finally realized them. However I have no such associations with internally-routed hydraulic hoses and PNS jerseys, and had already hardened into a crusty old fusspot by the time they entered cycling, so it’s hard to imagine my current feelings towards them evolving into affection.
But you never know.
