An Interview with Richard Sachs, Part II

"Here’s the deal: I don’t understand the word 'custom'." -Richard Sachs

In part two of our interview with Richard, we discuss some of his views on building, position and geometry of road and cyclocross frames.

Click here to read Part I

BKW: Investment cast lugs are much harder to cut and file than stamped steel ones. How much reshaping of lugs do you do these days?

RS: The original versions (circa late ‘70s) that were available were very hard. Over the years metallurgy has changed and they aren’t as hard any more. The material that Long Shen uses yields a lug that is quite malleable. The old investment cast stuff didn’t appeal to me because the stuff was ugly and the material sucked. Now it’s a question of getting shapes that I design and have cast to my specifications. That’s ideal.

BKW: Do you ever build with antique lugs anymore, or just your stuff?

RS: I’ll make something “like that” two or three times a year. I’ll do a Nuovo Record-equipped bike that is period correct. I have more than I need of those old lugs. I like taking a lug from dirt floor quality and reshaping the points, the shoreline, etc. But it’s really only a reminder of how I used to work. Casting has allowed me to produce a part that requires much less labor than stamped steel lugs, and it provides a much better starting point for close tolerances and higher quality joints.

BKW: You’ve always been careful to call your frames “made to measure” rather than custom. Can you talk a little about your perspective? It seems many cyclists aren’t clear on the distinction.


RS: Here’s the deal: I don’t understand the word “custom.” I just wanted to make bikes for people who wanted to use them on the road. When I started I just thought, “I want to do what I want to do.” I got to do that from the beginning. But because I came up in the era of Bicycling road tests, I had to deal with people who were reading the reviews. I was always conflicted that the people who were good racers would give me very few measurements. On the other hand, consumer types would come in and ask can you make this like a DeRosa if a DeRosa was recently reviewed. Transposing specs from one bicycle to another is fraught with peril, especially if some specs are misunderstood. In that ‘70s era, I found that many folks took the monthly road tests too literally. Of these, some would ask the framebuilders to copy this, or make it like that. If you’re new and have no backbone, you find yourself executing these orders. One such frame was for my pal Rudy, and when he went to the Tour de l’Avenir he had a terrible experience because the bike was poorly thought out, and not suited for European stage racing; Mike Neel really dressed him down for bringing that bike. That was in ’78. Since then, I make my bike not your bike. How can they be custom if I decide what goes where? I’m a guy who makes what I think is my bike. Though the order precedes the bike, it’s not “custom.” The term “made to measure” comes from tailoring and is used to differentiate between that style and “custom” and “bespoke.” If a tailor has a style, you don’t go to him and ask him to do more than to make it fit. You don’t say, “Make it look like Karl Lagerfeld or Calvin Klein.” Most people understand now you don’t tell a builder how to build a bike. You don’t show up with a blueprint. My view is there might be a million choices, but there’s only one right one.


BKW: When fitting a cyclist, what is the first dimension you zero in on, is it saddle setback?

RS: Saddle height and saddle setback. Everybody knows their saddle height. That gives me a mental image of how big the frame is that I’ll make for the customer.

BKW: Aside from cantilever bosses, how do your cyclocross frames differ from your road frames? Specifically, do you use different diameter or wall thickness tubes and, given the same rider, do the frame dimensions vary between road and ‘cross?

RS: All the bikes I make, I make as light as I humanly can. I use the same PegoRichie tubing. The differences between road and ‘cross are mostly how a rider sits on the bike. Most of my cues are taken from Adam Myerson of Cycle-Smart. [Sachs sponsored the former Collegiate Cyclocross National Champion for several seasons.] He showed me that the‘cross position has to be configured quite differently. You can’t just take a road bike and put canti’s on it. The saddle is lower, it is more forward, and the relation of the bar to the saddle is closer and higher. If you’re gonna race ‘cross, rather than just ride it on dirt roads or around a park, your positon is going to be different.


End Part II

Return to Part I

Photos Courtesy: Richard Sachs

An Interview with Richard Sachs, Part I

Richard Sachs' name is synonymous with the handbuilt frame. It is unlikely that anyone else better represents the enigmatic image of the one-man frame shop whose body of work is more than just a bunch of beatiful bicycles, it stands for something. Recently BKW rang Richard up at his shop in Chester, Connecticut, to talk about that line in the sand.

BKW: You’ve been at building for 35 years; what keeps you going?

RS: All of a sudden 35 years passes. I kind of feel every time I start a frame it decides what it’s going to be, it’s like the first time, even though it’s not. It’s more like something I want to do instead of something I have to do. I love making things with my hands. We all need something to do and I’m blessed that I have something to do that I love.

BKW: How many frames will you build this year?

RS: I’m on a schedule to produce about 5-6 month; I can’t think about the whole year. I look at the month ahead.

BKW: What is your wait up to?

RS: I have enough committed orders that put the delivery at 6 years.

BKW: Many cyclists see your frames as the epitome of the hand built bicycle. What do you think is at the root of the lust for a Sachs?

RS: I don’t promote myself, but I do make myself available. I’m on the framebuilder’s list, several message boards, and I answer my phone. I do exactly what I want to do and I don’t look around at what other people do. I look straight ahead. I’m not a marketing person. I think people like me and have a respect for what I do. Maybe one before the other, maybe one more than the other. They are buying me, not the bike. I’ve tried to perfect the details, the alignment, and the fit … I think people want to buy that for themselves. They want to have a little bit of me. The title of the book I’ll never write is, “It’s Not About the Bike, It’s About the Bike Maker.”

BKW: Including the Rivendells, how many different lug sets have you created over the years?

RS: I did a set for Takahashi, in ‘81 or ’82; I lightheartedly refer them as the Sachsahashis. I did a set for Rivendell plus four for myself: Richie-issimo, Newvex, Nuovo Richie, Rene Singer. I’ve also done two fork crowns, (one for Richie-issimo and one for Newvex), one bottom bracket shell, the front derailleur braze on, and I’ve had dropouts for ages.

BKW: What tubing are you using with your lugs?

RS: It’s a version of Columbus’ Spirit called Spirit For Lugs. We call it PegoRichie. The oversized tubes I’d been using were less than friendly for brazing. I’d been using Dedacciai Zero tubing. Then I had a JRA [Just Riding Along] on a two-year-old frame. The seat tube broke nowhere near the heat affected zone; it cracked in half at the transition of a butt. Then I found out that Dario Pegoretti wasn’t using it for similar quality control reasons. We decided to team up with Columbus to make tubing for lugs. I feel much more secure than using any of that short butt stuff. The tubing is Niobium alloy. The goal was to make tubing that was 21st Century strong, oversized, light, resilient, and would enable a brazer to build a frame that was 3-3.5 lbs. I would probably have never switched brands, but I had a JRA and it happened to ME. The light went on when it happened to me, and Dario and I decided we needed to get away from the “tubing for industry” stuff.

BKW: Did you see a noticeable drop in frame weights when you moved to this tubing?

RS: I saw a drop in weight and an increase in strength. Before, I knew I was using tubes with short butts but I thought the steel was well made so that nothing would happen to a frame I made. Among other things, the PegoRichie set gives me a comfort level about the heat-affected zone. I know that my JRA will never freakin’ happen again. And I didn’t to have to make a heavy bike to do that.


Click here for Part II

Photos Courtesy: Richard Sachs

The PROfessor

In 1992, I had the opportunity to meet Laurent Fignon when he and the Gatorade/Bianchi team visited for a local road race. I was working in my father's shop at the time, and through some local connections, we became the ship-to location and HQ for the Gatorade/Bianchi team.

The race was scheduled for Saturday and on Thursday the team machines poured into the shop, fresh from Europe and still warm from the gentle hands of Customs. The shop's sales floor was dotted with tasty treats from the PRO peloton as the Gatorade/Bianchi team mechanics arrived. The mechanics carried with them their traditional travel tool case, filled with the hand tools of their profession, all neatly packaged for the relentless travel of the PRO season.

I will never forget the days the PROs came to town. We worked side-by-side with the mechanics to prepare the machines and the equipment for the team: we housed the team travel bags and some of the riders’ team gear and, as the bikes were prepared, they were rolled out of the shop and into the sales area to await their owners. At 10 AM, Fignon and his teammates arrived at the shop, and despite the summer temps, they arrived dressed in tights and long sleeve jerseys and sandals. Each carried their cycling shoes in small travel shoe bags. By 11 AM, the team mounted their machines and rolled out for a spin with a few of the shop's select customers in tow. The ride headed north, following the route we knew as the "Executive Route" (named this because it abutted the side roads and was less conducive to the fisticuffs rides of the weekend and better-suited for idle chat and a gentlemen's pace). A water bottle and a banana into the ride, we neared the turnaround point. Fignon and his team rolled to a stop behind my father, who was leading the guests when one of the local riders coasted into the back of Fignon's bike, throwing himself onto the ground in a whirlwind of apologies and embarrassment.

When my father tells this story, his expressions and body language mimic the Frenchman's response to accurately capture the moment. As he describes it, Fignon casually looks over his shoulder at the fallen rider and, with a look of dismay, simply shrugs his shoulders and with complete PROness rolls off leaving the dejected rider laying on the pavement.

Once the dusty, but uninjured, rider caught up with the group, he rode alongside my father and began to weave an apology. My father looks over and replies, "You just crashed into "The Professor." Don't talk to me, I don't know you."

The ride back to the shop was less eventful: there were no more crashes and no international incidents.

Following the ride, the PROs and the team mechanics were eager to dig into some American culture and began to shop the Pearl Izumi inventory. It was surreal. The PROs bought so much Pearl clothing filling their backpacks with the Pearl Izumi Dot Glove and the Thermal Lobster Claw while the mechanics bought the two remaining neon orange full-suspension Trek 9000s we had in stock. We could barely give those bikes away but the mechanics were delighted when we offered them some industry courtesy selling them the bikes at wholesale. The pinnacle was sitting down to lunch together, the team mechanics, the PROs, Fignon, our shop cat Tullio, and the shop employees to toss back some McD’s at the request of our guests.

Sharing a Big Mac with Fignon is certainly on my personal short list of great cycling moments.

Panache

There’s a good reason why the French like their champions. They won with style. The two most recent (if you can call it that) French Tour winners, Bernard Hinault and Laurent Fignon, didn’t win a quiet Tour. They won time trials and in the mountains. Hinault wasn’t afraid to go after a sprint or two, either.

If there was one aspect of Miguel Indurain that the French (and others) didn’t like, other than his being Spanish, was how his Tour wins were dominant, but never stylish. You almost never saw him attack in a show of force meant to do nothing so much as intimidate. Were it not for Hinault’s incredible force of will, as evidenced by his ability to intimidate, he would likely only have won four Tours.

At first, the French loved Lance Armstrong. That he attacked viciously and used his efforts to win and put an alpha-male stamp on the race had all of France clamoring for the cancer survivor. His invincibility is what turned their love to disdain and near revulsion; for some, the accusations of doping were just used as justification for how they felt.

And sometimes, the greatest moves don’t even result in wins. In 1995, the first year the Vuelta a Espana was held in September, Laurent Jalabert was dominating the race as only Eddy Merckx could. One French magazine ran a cartoon showing Jalabert passing close to finish-line barricades and signing autographs “Jaja” as he passed. In one mountain stage he dropped his companions only to reel in Telekom’s Bert Dietz within the final half kilometer. “Jaja” passed Dietz, sat up, and then waived for him to get on his wheel. Twenty meters from the line he pulled off, sat up and let Dietz take the win. Afterward, Dietz said he would repay the gift by never riding against Jalabert, no matter what his team asked. A true champion knows when to throw a bone.

Looking back over this year’s season, one move stands out as a win for the ages: Fabian Cancellara’s win on Stage 3 of the Tour de France. Sure, the yellow jersey sometimes wins a stage, but those stages are usually either time trials or mountain finishes. The maillot jaune might win a sprint stage only if he is a sprinter and the Tour is in its first week. Given that none of those conditions were true for Cancellara—he is a time trialist—and his original motivation to ride at the front was only to protect his yellow jersey for another day, that he even rode on the front so late in the stage was incredible. That he dropped the sprinters was stunning. That he caught the break seemed unbelievable. That he passed them and took the stage was a shock beyond belief. Was anyone in the world still seated when he took the “V”? Can you name a better move this year?

The Flying Scotsman

Stop and think for a moment: What is your favorite cycling film ever? Is it “A Sunday in Hell?” Or perhaps “American Flyers?” Lord knows it’s not “Pee-wee's Big Adventure” or “Quicksilver.” There’s a new contender for the title. Chances are you haven’t seen “The Flying Scotsman,” the dramatization of the life of Graeme Obree. The script takes as its starting point Obree’s confessional “Flying Scotsman: Cycling to Triumph Through My Darkest Hours.” It covers his hour record, World Championship and later suicide attempt. In broad strokes it contains all the dramatic elements of a varied life.

The film documents one of the greatest David and Goliath matches ever, and it took place on the bike. Obree is David. Goliath is played, alternately, by the UCI, Chris Boardman and Obree’s own demons.

The cast is first rate. Johnny Lee Miller (“Trainspotting”) plays Obree, Billy Boyd (“Lord of the Rings”) plays his manager and Brian Cox (“The Bourne Supremacy,” “Deadwood,” and “Troy,” among others). In addition to an excellent cast, the cinematography is great and the sound very clear—the actors even toned down their accents for the sake of the audience. The soundtrack is inspiring enough that it might find its way into the odd iPod.

From the first mention of mental illness (Obree is bipolar), Obree says most folks dismissed him as a “nutter.” He much prefers discussing his cycling exploits. Revealing the full extent of his depression and mental illness in the book wasn’t easy. “I wasn’t keen to have all that from a personal point of view. It’s the last thing you want to share with anybody.” Many stories in the press painted him as a comical character; as a result, he’s been wary of mainstream press, and yet, he says, “Most of the letters were from people who said, “Your story helped me.’”

Obree is quick to point out that the film is a dramatization and that many events are as he puts them, “amalgamations.” In Hollywood speak, they are called “conflations” and these reductions of events are a source of irritation to those who prefer the actual facts but utterly necessary to the director trying to shoot a simple-to-follow story.

“We [he and his wife Anne] didn’t have a lot of involvement in the script.” He was, however, involved in the shooting on an almost daily basis. “We were around most of the time. I was a technical director.” In addition to doing the velodrome riding, Obree piloted the point-of-view camera bike. “A fantastic insight into the world of filmmaking. That was excellent fun that was.”

It’s easy to get caught up in the frustration of the UCI’s rules-to-suit-the-minute approach. Obree is more sanguine about it these days. “If he [the UCI’s Hein Verbruggen] hadn’t behaved so badly I wouldn’t be so well known. I think he is hung up on homogeneity; he is a traditionalist. He wants bikes not to get talked about.”

Naturally, Obree’s view is a little different is different from Verbruggen’s. “The set up is part of the sport. It’s a big deal in motorsports. How they set up the motorcycles varies from rider to rider. They [the UCI] need to find something to do. It justifies their existence. Shows they have a job to do and are justifying their paychecks. It wasn’t personal. It was the wrong position at the wrong time. In retrospect I realize I’d sunk into a comfort zone. The UCI forced me to continue to find a better position.”

And so it is that Graeme Obree, the athlete who was the very bane of the UCI’s existence, credits the man who made it his mission in life to keep Obree from racing to his full potential with innovating another new—and faster—position. The Superman position was adopted by other riders almost immediately after Obree debuted it in competition. “Emulation is the greatest form of compliment. But there is no greater compliment than to be banned. It was fast enough to get banned.”

Asked what he thinks the film’s greatest achievement is, be it the portrayal of addressing his depression, the hour record, the world championships (and world record), Obree points to the change in his psychology overnight between his first attempt on the hour record and his second the next morning. Of the first attempt he says, “I was thinking, Jeez this is it, Moser’s record. I was kind of pensive.” The film’s great statement is about self belief. “It’s about overcoming adversity. That’s a different person out there the next day. (I said) I’m going to get up tomorrow and break that record.”

Obree still rides a fair amount and is competitive when time allows. He volunteers that he twice beat the current British time trial champ early this season, before publicity for the film siphoned off much of his free time. And that balance is the source of his real drive these days. Obree fully appreciates how difficult balancing a job, a marriage and parenting along with the drive to be a competitive cyclist is. In addition to refurbishing a house and building some bedroom furniture, he has undertaken to write a training manual. Only this book will be different he says. “It’s meant for the cyclist who has a full life, is a father, has a job and still wants to compete. It’s about how to be fast and fit it all in.”

“The Flying Scotsman” is now available on DVD. For those who wish to get the full scoop on his hour records, World Championships and journey back to light, pick up his autobiography (available from VeloPress).

An Interview with Ernesto Colnago

There are very few names in the world of cycling that carry as much weight as Ernesto Colnago. His name is synonymous with quality and many of cycling's greatest PROs can be linked directly to him.

BKW recently sat down with Ernesto to talk about his impact on the bicycle industry and the changes he has seen over his 62 years in the bicycle industry. Ernesto is an incredibly approachable individual, his passion for the bicycle is infectious, and I found that despite his years of involvement at the pinnacle of our sport, he was open to speaking one-on-one, passionate cyclist to passionate cyclist about the subtleties that make our sport so amazing.

Colnago's passion is complemented by his humble nature, although his accomplishments in the bicycle industry are legendary, he remains dedicated to his craft, and despite less time with torch in hand, his involvement is undeniable. The time spent with Ernesto evolved quickly from interview to discussion. Colnago focused on "the heart", and how the sport is very special to us. When a cyclist's effort is driven by the heart, it yields the finest results.

The time spent with Ernesto was inspirational, his experience in the industry, and his influence on bicycles is undeniable and after all these years in the trenches, his passion remains strong. From the days of lugged steel to today's lugged carbon bikes, Colnago has left an indelible imprint on the fabric of cycling. Here are the highlights of our discussion:

BKW: What makes a Colnago ride so nicely?

Colnago: Nice bicycles are not made they are born. It is very easy for me to make great bicycles, it is the only thing I do. Every bicycle built by Colnago was built with heart.

BKW: Tell me about your time as a mechanic. Did it influence how you build bicycles?

Colnago: Of course, I have been in the bike industry for 62 years. I started at 13 years old. First I began as an apprentice, racer, then mechanic in the Tour De France, Giro d'Italia. I have worked with many of the biggest names, Merckx, Sarronni, Gimondi, Motta, Van Looy. My bikes are like children, to the mother, every child is special.

BKW: So the needs of the professional peloton changed?

Colnago: The world has changed. In the old days, the food was easier. Professionals would drink water and eat polenta. Later it was steak and rice following a race; today it is energy gel.

As a parting comment, while discussing the beauty of Colnago's pantagraph work, Colnago responded:

"God made the bicycle; Colnago perfected it."

Many would agree

Ernesto Celebrates 77 Years

Interbike 2007 - Further Thoughts

The first, biggest question of the show was some variation on, “Is Red worth it?” “Is Red that good?” “Is Red better than (fill in blank)?” The answer depended entirely on the answeree’s position in the industry. The guys at the bike companies were concerned they’d be able to move an $8000 SKU. The guys at the component companies said they’d have to be on their A game. Some of the media scribes weren’t sure it was worth $2400.

There weren’t a lot of truly new bikes, but a few are worth noting. You’ve long since heard about Trek’s new Madone; this new design is a real step up for Waterloo. Handling is more natural, vibration damping removes the buzz without making it wooden and thanks the sloping top tube, its weight competitive. Specialized gave riders a chance to check out the new Tarmac SL2. Just when you thought Specialized couldn’t increase torsional stiffness and vertical compliance, the Morgan Hill mauler did just that. And with the oversize steerer the new fork offers even more precise handling than it used to. BKW learned from Parlee that most of its work is custom these days and the Boston boutique has increased its ability to vary geometry and tube compliance based on a rider’s needs. Cervelo unleashed a new design called the RS. Take the R3, add some chainstay length, a longer headtube and relax the stiffness just enough to protect your dental work.

Lew Wheels is back in the game with a wheelset (using a tri-flange rear hub) that at 880 grams is undeniably the lightest on the market, but will set you back the cost of a good bike ($6,000 or so). So what are you going to put on ‘em? How about the Torelli Lugano tubular, or if you need a clincher, the Gavia? Both are constructed from 320 tpi polyester casings. BKW’s West Coast annex has been riding the Gavia for a few weeks; they corner like a mason’s trowel. And at $69.95, you might not find more tire for less money.

Part of the attraction of Interbike is seeing old friends and attending parties, that is, if your dogs haven’t given out first. Wednesday’s cyclocross race was nothing to miss. After the winning break of ten was established, New Englander hard man and World’s silver medalist, Jonathan “Wonder Boy” Page unleashed a nasty attack just before a short steep hill and the acceleration roused a cry from the crowd that was the reaction of the night.

LA-based designer Joe Yule won the Slipstream jersey design contest. He’s no newbie to jersey design; he’s designed kits for a number of clubs, a magazine and a stylish Santa Monica bike shop. Joe’s design took the Argyle and added texture and balance to give it a very PRO look. Speaking of great clothing, Earth, Wind and Rider has all but bet the farm on a series of Bicycle Polo jerseys made from Merino wool. The jerseys are city-specific, and include New York, Los Angeles, Oakland, Boston and more. Each city's jersey features a different color scheme and embroidery style.

SRAM’s media honch Michael Zellman tested the stiffness of the asphalt at the industry crit on Thursday night. His bike took the high flyer award when it did a full gainer over the crowd. He was back in action early the next morning, though.

And PRO is Program Go with Speedplay's new white Zero. The San Diego lightweight’s hottest seller is now available in full PRO blanc.

Interbike 2007, Day Three

Negative G calipers




Zipp crank


Giro cold weather insert


Assos Six Day jersey


Ibis Travel MTB


M5 brake calipers



Ritchey single speed Break Away

Interbike 2007, Townies

Interbike 2007, Day Two

Boonen's Tarmac SL2


Simoni's Ritchey 4 Axis/WCS Carbon Bar


Don Mario


Time Ulteam World Star


Stan's Road Tubeless Conversion

Interbike 2007, Day One

Colnago's Extreme Power, Saronni 25th World's Edition


SRAM Red Internals


Thor Hushovd's valve solution 2007




2008 Dura-Ace 7800C - Target Weight: 170mm w/bb 714 grams, 10% Stiffer

The Wait Is Over

Well, we've ridden it. And frankly, we'd like to ride it some more. A lot more. SRAM's Red group is a remarkable achievement and worthy of a spot at the table with Dura-Ace and Record. And all it took was an integrated control lever.

The history of integrated control levers may be more significant for who got out of the market than who entered it. Modolo took a stab at it in ’97 and released a product so woefully lacking in ergonomic elegance and precise function that when the product was subsequently pulled six months later, no one missed it.

Mavic has twice sold electronic shifters. Twice they have developed legions of devotees. Today, a Mavic group consists of wheels, brakes and a computer. If only the gods would smile on their engineers, or their factories, or whatever it would take to make the stuff work perfectly all the time.

So what’s the big deal about Red? The shifter. It’s always the shifter. The Red shifter is comfy, shifts precisely and has a throw shorter than any of its competition. That covers the basics, but here’s a bit more detail:

The hoods have gentle curves to them to allow you to grip them in the traditional manner, drape your hands across the forward bulb and rest your wrists on the back of the hood and the bar, or sit up a bit with your hands laying across the bar and rear of the hoods. The brake levers themselves flair out from the hoods more than either Dura-Ace or Record levers do. This is a boon for anyone with small hands—you don’t need to roll your wrists around the bar to reach the levers. As you grip the brake levers with your index fingers (yes, it’s real one-finger braking), you feel the shift levers just brushing the inside curve of your fingers.

The shift lever has no play to the travel (well, one of the two bikes I rode equipped with the group had maybe 3mm of travel before engaging the spring). Move the lever and you have begun the shift. The feel of each shift is firm and precise. Downshifts of a single cog feel very natural; I was worried that it would feel sluggish, but the response is so immediate you quick adjust to the throw necessary to downshift one cog, to do two or three is no big deal. Upshifting is firm and deliberate. You can’t brush the lever with your finger the way you might with Dura-Ace, though. Multiple upshifts aren’t quite as quick as Dura-Ace and definitely not as quick as Record, but there’s no risk of accidentally dumping the chain from the 14 to the 12, either.

For the sprinters out there, one of the more remarkable aspects of Red’s performance is the way you can wrap your right index finger around the shift lever and then swing it back so that your hand is wrapped simultaneously around the lever and the bar. Out of the saddle and sprinting, there is enough clearance between the lever and the bar (even with padded tape) to give the lever a little squeeze for an upshift.

If you have ever been on a long climb and pushed a lever to see if, by chance, there was one more cog in back, don’t make that mistake with Red (or any SRAM groups), though. The act of pushing the lever will initiate an upshift. Kind of a surprising development if you’re at the end of your rope.

It would be easy to blow the group’s promise if the great rear shifting was not matched with great front shifting. Key to this are stiff crank arms, bottom bracket spindle and chainrings. Key elements, all. As a result, the front shifting is very good. It may not be quite as crisp under load as Dura-Ace, but it will shift from the small ring to the big ring when you are out of the saddle, though. It seemed that shift length was longer than that of Dura-Ace. Dura-Ace takes about one-third of a pedal revolution to execute a shift, most of the time. While some shifts took between a third and a half of a revolution, most were closer to a full revolution. Perhaps with a bit more forceful shifting on the part of the rider, the shifts might be more consistently brief.


Brake response is excellent. Anyone transitioning from Dura-Ace won’t notice a lick of difference, while Record users may notice a softer feel to the braking. Modulation is excellent; a sensitive rider will get great stopping power without locking up the rear wheel. Not the sort of thing that would excite the freeride crowd, I suppose.

There’s a lot to be said for a group that operates in whisper mode. Roll the clock back 15 years and you may recall that Shimano and Campy were noisy affairs. Red will not clutter your experience with unnecessary noise.

What’s the scuttlebutt, you’re asking? The price. At more than $2000 it is the most expensive group ever offered. However, if the dollar continues to drop like a paraglider with tangled lines, it won’t be long before Record and eventually Dura-Ace are more expensive. At least we can rest assured the pricing on Red will be more stable than Lindsay Lohan’s mental state.

Many wonder, is it overpriced? The answer to that depends on nothing so much as you. To some, every piece of bike gear is overpriced. And to some a great bike is a tiny investment compared to a health club or yoga classes (after all, if you ride a $10,000 bicycle five days per week for three years, that bike runs you about $12.82 per ride).

So the real question is, what’s a good time worth? Ride it and decide for yourself.

Seeing Red

Consolidation is the watchword for most industries in the world. Big guys are buying little guys, investors are tight with cash and upstarts are having a tougher time finding shoulder room than a sapling in old-growth forest. In short, the planet is being homogenized in great swaths. Species extinctions are happening at an alarming rate. Even languages are disappearing at a rate of one every two weeks.

Doesn’t look good for competition, does it?

I offer that as a backdrop to SRAM’s introduction of its new group called Red. On paper, the idea that an American company could enter the road market with a top-end component group and actually compete is, well, laughable. Who in their right mind would actually wish to compete with Shimano or Campagnolo? After all, no component maker has more emotional cachet with its owners than Campy. Assuming you think you can tackle that, okay. Who would then wish to go head-to-head with the 800-lb. gorilla from Manilla (okay, Tokyo)?

The brain trust at SRAM is neither stupid nor delusional. For those of you who haven’t ridden a bike with wheels smaller than 700C since you were in grade school, it bears mentioning that SRAM has been producing good mountain bike drivetrains (easily the crux move in any groupo) for more than 10 years.

Without resorting to licensing technology from either Campy or Shimano, SRAM found a creative middle road. For two years SRAM’s double-tap components have been quietly gaining acceptance in the road market. This is no small feat.
Consider that Full Speed Ahead (FSA) offers cranks, bottom brackets, front derailleurs, brakes and wheels. But they don’t do control levers or rear derailleurs. Given how good their current offerings are (let’s not forget their stems, handlebars and seatposts), it is fair to surmise that manufacturing control levers and a coordinated rear derailleur is more difficult than getting the ASO and UCI to play nice.

We have before us a few curious details to consider: Red is reputed to be the lightest road component group on the market. It will also be the most expensive. The dollar is worth less (relative to the Yen and Euro) than Britney Spears’ career. The UCI hates innovation almost as much as they hate American lawyers. Even so, the new competition will be good for consumers. Neither Shimano nor Campy can afford to react slowly, and Campy—God love ‘em—is rarely mistaken for a scalded monkey. The introduction of Red will spur innovation and price competition and soon enough, bicycles will be so light that the UCI will need to address their weight limit. Or not. Capitalism might have some predictability to it, but we probably shouldn’t expect anything predictable (or logical) from the UCI.

So maybe the pros won’t be able to ride a 13-lb. bicycle, but you will. Rapidly approaching is the day when you can ride a 12-lb. bike with bar tape. Or any frame you want (including lugged steel) without violating 15 lbs.

So despite all the economic pressures that make this introduction as unlikely as a smash hit from Kevin Federline, SRAM has put together the financing, engineering and tooling necessary to mount an assault on the road market. For many folks, this is the most eagerly awaited product intro in 10 years. But it would seem that this is just the serve; the move to watch is the return. For that we’ll have to wait until 2009.

Stay tuned for Tuesday's late report on just how Red rides.

The Fix Is In

Had Floyd Landis’ arbitration been handled by the American judicial system, the 2006 winner of the Tour de France would have red hair. Put another way, were logic the overriding principle used for deciding the arbitration outcome, the matter would be settled once and for all. Unfortunately, the arbitrators managed to set aside their own concerns and find in favor of USADA.

In the American court system, material found in an illegal search is disallowed in court proceedings. So if the basis of a search is found to be logically flawed, the search is thrown out. The arbitrators struck down the initial adverse T/E result, saying it DID NOT meet the requirement for a positive test.

That bears repeating. In the initial test that started this process, the arbitrators found that Floyd Landis did not test positive. Logically, if the initial test was not positive, there should not be grounds for the flawed IRMS test that USADA claims shows Landis used exogenous testosterone.

Equally disturbing is the arbitrators’ threat that if similar procedural errors such as those that were demonstrated during the Landis hearing were to continue, they might dismiss such a case. “The Panel finds that the practises of the Lab in training its employees appears to lack the vigor the Panel would expect in the circumstances given the enormous consequences to athletes.” That is the most serious indictment of the testing process ever offered by a sympathetic party. And yet, the majority wrote, “If such practices continue, it may well be that in the future, an error like this could result in the dismissal” of the case against the athlete.

Hello? How could errors dismissed in this case be considered substantive enough to derail a case in the future? The fix is in. The arbitrators have effectively said, “Okay, we’ll let you slide this time, but don’t embarrass us or yourselves again.” It is further demonstration that this process has been a kangaroo court meant to satisfy a political agenda rather than a judicial process meant to uncover the truth. No reasonable person can come to the conclusion that justice has been served if substandard lab work can result in two different findings on two different days. That’s not justice, that’s mercy; only mercy isn’t generally granted to the prosecution.

If LNDD’s (Laboratoire National de Dépistage du Dopage / National Anti-doping Laboratory) work ethic will be deemed unacceptable in the future, then it is unacceptable today. And if it is unacceptable today, then a miscarriage of justice has been served.

One cannot be surprised that the arbitrator chosen by Landis’ team, Christopher Campbell, found in favor of Landis. He was supposed to be sympathetic. However, strenuous dissent deserves the light of day. Campbell wrote: "The documents supplied by LNDD are so filled with errors that they do not support an Adverse Analytical Finding. Mr. Landis should be found innocent." He went on to point out a larger problem of competence: "If the LNDD couldn't get the T-E ratio test right, how can a person have any confidence that LNDD got the much more complicated IRMS test correct?"

Here’s the scary part. This process shows that labs are allowed to execute the shoddiest of work in order to get some sort of positive test. Once they achieve that result, they can then begin a fishing expedition employing all means necessary (including character assassination) in order to prove their case.

One last question: Would you want to be a pro cyclist right now?

Photo courtesy: msnbc

Cobbles Baby!

Director: Scott Coady

Feature Running Time: 37:20 min.

The entire concept behind BKW is to focus on the small things that make our sport so interesting. I always look for articles or films that cover the "behind the scenes" and that go beyond the simple race coverage to explore what life is like inside the world of PRO cycling.

I had heard good things about Scott's first film Tour Baby!, but I never got around to viewing it. When I heard he was putting the finishing touches on his second film Cobbles Baby! I knew it was time to acquaint myself with Scott's work.

Let me start by writing this: I had no idea what to expect. I didn't bother researching the film in advance, but anything that focuses solely on the Queen of the Classics is worth purchasing.

I stumbled into Scott's filmography while reading some related blogs and saw the film had just been released. I purchased the video on Saturday and received it 4 days later.

This film is "pissah". Scott has a tendancy to focus on "all the little things," just like the team here at BKW. Cobbles Baby! covers the action surrounding the 2004 Paris Roubaix. Scott does an excellent job of getting right into the thick of the action, from the inside tour of the Postal bus to the run-down on what machine modifications are required to prepare for PR. This film is a combination of many of the previous BKW posts.

I will not bore you with a step-by-step recount of the action. However, I will have to say that Scott manages to capture the reaction of the Postal team to Floyd's new moustache as he arrives for Saturday's pre-ride. Scott showers in the famous concrete showers in Roubaix and has a roadside discussion regarding Belgium knee warmers alongside a section of Pave. This is the stuff we are made of, I say!

I give this film the thumbs up for Scott succinctly captures the small things that you and I look for. Scott is a cyclist and his eye for the details proves it. The film has a raw production quality, similar at times to a family vacation video, but this is what makes the film so gripping. No high budget production team, no fancy cameras or entourage of lighting and sound PROs. Think Warren Miller meets WCP meets Blair Witch Project.

Scott's enthusiasm is evident and there may be no better host to show you around the Hell of the North. Go online and get yourself a copy. This is a great film for riding the rollers and, in the weeks leading up to PR, it will be the perfect thing to get you prepared for the action. The DVD includes some extra footage which is equally cool, Scott pays tribute to the heros who gave their lives at Omaha Beach in WWII and drops by Belgium's Cycling Center which serves as a development center for US cyclists.

For more info, visit ww.bigringfilms.com

Photo courtesy Scott Coady

Interbike 2007

I have attended bicycle trades shows since I was a wee-lad. Some families have memories of road trips to the Grand Canyon or the annual trek to visit the Smithsonians. For me, it was bicycle trade shows. Year after year, I would file up and down the aisles, trudging through the endless maze of indoor/outdoor carpets, all while breathing in the noxious fumes of the countless rubber tires. As a kid, I loathed "the show," as a teen I embraced it, and as an adult I worked them.

Five years into my hiatus from the industry, I continue to feel its pull. So, with bindles packed, the staff at BKW is taking this show on the road and heading out into the arid vastness of Nevada to take on yet another year of Interbike. September is the time of year when the North American bicycle industry squeezes itself under one roof for three days to sell, buy, catch up, and burn out. BKW has managed to bamboozle some unassuming industry folk into providing us with legitimate credentials for the three-day, bike extravaganza. We plan to go deep into the thick of it to scout out the coolest gear for the coming season; hopefully, there will be more than just carbon fiber stuff. Along the way, we'll get the chance to hang with some PROs and leading figures of the industry.

Stay tuned... 'cause "when the soup is good, all is good."

1989 World Championships

Bob Cat Crit

In January 1994, I moved to Southern California in pursuit of the endless summer. I was searching specifically for the trails and roads I had seen featured in the countless cycling magazines I read. Little did I know, I was four years and 3,000 miles off. In 1998, I moved to Boston and blindly stumbled into a cycling hotbed.

I had been working in Boston for a little over a year when on a hot and humid summer day I came face-to-face with one of the few pinnacle events of my years in the bike industry. There have been a number of experiences that stood out from crazy customers, cool products, and epic schwag to monumental rides. But today was different, it was natural, not forced, I had just met head-on my first impromptu race.

In each micro-cycling community, there are different names for similar events. In the messenger community, it is called an alley cat, in the cyclocross world, it is known as bandit cross. But all are based on the same principal: Friends and co-riders show up at a designated point, line up behind a drawn line and wait for someone to yell "Go!". The magic of this event is that there is a genuine love for the sport. There are no points awarded, no prizes, no team obligations. Just a desire to ride with your friends and kick each others' asses.

This race was called the Bob Cat Crit, (BCC) named after a local cyclist. The word went out in the afternoon on this particular Saturday, and it spread like wildfire. The BCC was on...

The Bob Cat was a mountain bike course, but people arrived on everything from road bikes to cruisers. The race has a true "Run what you brung" attitude. After all, it was as much about the social aspect and drinking beer as it was about winning. The entire concept is similar to when professional skateboarders get together to session a ramp or park. The experience is more about encouraging your mates, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere, and being around a close group of fellow cyclists.

The race itself proved to be as exciting as any I have ever been to. There were battles for positions, crashes, and a podium that included the "dark horse" as well as the "sure thing". But the magic of the BCC was not the race or the winners, it was about the passion and love that everyone felt for the sport. We stood in a dusty, overgrown lot adjacent to the train tracks, sweating, swatting mosquitoes, drinking beer, and talking about all things bikes. There was a mix of women and men, road and mountain. There were no categories, no points, and no pressure. It was truly an epic experience.

From Loved to Loathed

In a June interview on NPR timed with the release of his new book “From Lance to Landis,” author David Walsh asserted that there are two kinds of cyclists with respect to doping, those that are dragged into doping and those that drag. It’s not a remarkable assessment. To allege coercion into a forbidden practice could hardly raise eyebrows.
However, Walsh pointed to Lance Armstrong as an example of a dragger. Walsh would have us believe that the reputation of the sport of cycling has been damaged by the draggers of the world, as exemplified by Mr. Armstrong.

In his book, Walsh does what he can to convince the reader that his motivations are honest, that all he wants is to clean up the sport and restore cycling’s tarnished reputation. There’s a problem with his mission, though. In “From Lance to Landis” (FLL) he takes square aim at Armstrong; without him, there really would have been no motivation to write. It is true he catches other cyclists (most notably Floyd Landis and Tyler Hamilton) in his crosshairs, but they are more collateral damage, corollaries to his argument. Curious that he should reserve his effort for American riders.

Investigative journalism got its start in America and the American consciousness is perhaps better prepared to read first-time allegations in a newspaper than citizens of some other countries. However, real investigative journalism demands more of its practitioners than simply exposing one man’s secrets. Large segments of interviews are condensed in FLL into single paragraphs sporting a single quote at the end, which is to say that at times, the book is short on substance. More direct quotes would have served both author and audience.

Were the book to be compared to other works of investigative journalism, such as what happened at Enron as exemplified by “The Smartest Guys in the Room,” Walsh, in effect, devoted little time to Ken Lay while putting all his resources into chasing Jeff Skilling, even though any complete account should focus on Enron as a whole. Ultimately, Walsh’s pursuit of Armstrong begins to seem personal, and the investigation lacks the fair-handed detachment of the best investigative journalism.

Armstrong has been quoted saying “extraordinary allegations require extraordinary proof.” Fair enough. Because there is no smoking gun, readers will see what they wish to see. Those who want to believe Armstrong is innocent of doping will see mountains of slanderous but circumstantial allegations. Those who think he should be burned at the stake for alleged doping will see what they think is more than enough.

Walsh makes much of the 1994 Fleche-Wallonne where three members of the Gewiss team rode away from the field, leaving every other team to chase. He attempts to use this as a window into Armstrong’s soul, a reason to explain his anger, his motivation to begin using EPO. He even tries to play the compassion card pointing out how understandable it would have been for a rider to wish to be competing on a level playing field. If Armstrong did, in fact, take EPO and if he decided to do so in the wake of the trouncing he got at the ’94 Fleche-Wallonne, then he was no less coerced, no less dragged, than any other cyclist.

Walsh gets a fundamental assumption wrong. His belief that there are draggers and dragged is misguided. He believes that the draggers—those cyclists who go into doping with their eyes wide open and embracing all the doctor has to offer—are the sport’s great scourge and the source of our incredulity and disappointment. There is a division in cycling between cyclists, but the difference lies between those we aren’t surprised to hear doped and those who we are utterly shocked to learn doped.

The surprise we experienced when Bjarne Riis admitted he took EPO was not that Mr. Sixty had doped—there were plenty of rumors—no, our surprise was that he broke the Omerta and came clean. The shock we feel when a rider we believed or at least hoped was clean (say, Iban Mayo) is the real shock. That’s the tarnish on the sport. Most of us can accept that some athletes will try to cheat, but what sours so many on cycling is the revelation that doping became standard practice, ubiquitous, a fog crawling over the whole landscape of cycling itself. The whiteout makes many dizzy, unable to tell up from down, day from night, and for some, right from wrong.

This entry was written out of love and a desire to see some clean, healthy competition in the PRO peloton. A big thank you to Padraig for his great contribution.

Photo Courtesy: USA Today

2004 Olympic Road Race