Endurance bikes and serene slipstreams

As you’ll be aware, back in 2008 there was a global financial crisis. The UK economy leapt off the edge of the cliff with the enthusiasm of a hedge fund manager ordering a new Bentley, and most of us are still feeling the effects.

For example, all available evidence suggests that the local coffers here in the north of England are empty when it comes to road repairs. Give it another year or two and, speaking as a cyclist, the potholes of Lancashire will begin to rival the cobbles of Roubaix as a brutal test of man and bike.

Back when the term ‘credit crunch’ was first being coined, I can’t help thinking the big bike manufacturers saw this coming. Their developers silently observed the UK economy heading south and concluded that by 2016 the roads of northern England would be in a state of disarray. Cyclists would be crying out for an all singing all dancing solution to their increasing discomfort. So they got to work.

The current glut of ‘endurance’ road bikes is the result; basically, more comfortable versions of race orientated bikes.

The Trek Domane SLR, for example.

It’s designed, according to the coffee-drinking-haircut-wielding marketing types, to propel the likes of Fabian Cancellara over the cobbled and rutted roads of northern Europe during the spring classics. With its forgiving geometry and ability to flex, suspension like, through the seat post and the front end, it also looks like the solution to the rutted and ragged lanes of Lancashire.

It’s very clever.

In recent weeks I’ve been able to watch this at first hand, tucked in the serene slipstream of my friend and Sunday morning riding partner. The Domane SLR is his winter bike of choice.

Mine, on the other hand, is a ten year old Pinarello Angliru. It’s not a bad bike, but in comparison to the all-terrain SUV of my friend’s Trek it’s a battered old Vauxhall Cavalier. It’s also a size too big for me, and is made of ageing aluminium.

I’m sure the carbon forks make a difference, but try telling that to my arse as I clatter along with all the grace of a celebrity politician in a televised dance competition. Every imperfection in the road creates a judder through my hands and up my spine. The sight of my friend gliding effortlessly doesn’t help.

The Winter Bike
Pinarello Angliru (Image: http://www.ragtimecyclist.com)

Despite its shortcomings I still claim some deep attachment to, and love for, this veteran winter steed of mine. I convince myself that the Domane would be too polished and technical for my taste, and wasted as a workhorse winter ride. This is only because I can’t currently justify the purchase.

Having said that, here in my home town of Lancaster I regularly find myself wandering past the window of The Edge Cycleworks. The purchase is only ever a reckless insertion of a pin number away.

The silver lining to this bike envy is that I feel fully justified in wheel-sucking my friend every time we head out for a ride. There might not be a motor in it (as far as I know) but from where I’m sitting, riding a Trek Domane is practically mechanical doping.

The least he can do is let me have his slipstream.

Advertisements

5 comments

  1. Steel is real. Carbone fanciness is akin to an officer mucking out in a WW1 Flanders trench. It’s just not cricket and wouldn’t have happened. Were your watts ‘proper’ WATTS, you’d have no trouble seeing off this MAMIL

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Every time I go to a sportive I get serious bike envy before the start. Carbon everywhere, some fancy road bikes with disc brakes and the odd steed with Di2… I may venture down that road some day but either way I still need to pedal to get up the hill just like those fancy dans. The envy turns to smugness when I’m cruising past them on my alloy ride with middle of the road 105 groupset and low end wheels. It’s all about the engine!

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s