It's Alive.
I've been riding my new-to-me Cannondale almost exclusively this spring, allowing my other bikes to languish in the garage in various state of disrepair and neglect. Part of this was my usual pattern of riding less-expensive and fragile bikes while the weather and road conditions are less-than-optimal, part of it was the new-to-me experience the 2008 System Six provided, and the rest was the fact that I haven't done a road race this season.
The solid, dependable performance of the Cannondale was enough to keep me satisfied with what I was riding. Paired with mediocre performance of my pseudo-carbon wheels, it was everything my overweight, underpowered engine deserved. I further encumbered it with stuff like a mini frame pump, heavy bottle cages, and a saddle bag loaded with 18lbs of tube patches to make it a proper training bike.
To test out the backup race bike I had cleaned up for a stage race, I took it out for a lunchtime spin. It embodied every overused Bicycling magazine review catchphrase.
"Laterally stiff, yet vertically compliant."
"Stable, confidence-inspiring ride."
"Slices through the air like a samurai sword."
"Solidly transfers power from the pedals to the ground."
... and so on and so forth.
My position was low and aggressive. The wheels didn't flex into the brake pads when I applied anything over 35 watts to the pedals. I looked down at my wattage and speed and was amazed at how effortless it all felt. The bike was alive in a way that the Cannondale could never be, no matter how much high-end carbon I threw at it.
One of the reasons I buy and build as many frames as I can is that I am greedy. Another is that I am completely clueless as to what I like in a bike. I can't look at a spec sheet and geometry chart and tell if a bike will feel like a rocket or a wet noodle. Some bikes that others hate I absolutely love. There's no accounting for taste.
What I can say is that I like my backup race bike. It's the same vintage as the Cannondale, but light years more to my liking. I've ridden newer bikes with more of the latest-and-greatest technology and been less inspired to ride. For whatever reason, this bike just does it for me.
It's alive.
The solid, dependable performance of the Cannondale was enough to keep me satisfied with what I was riding. Paired with mediocre performance of my pseudo-carbon wheels, it was everything my overweight, underpowered engine deserved. I further encumbered it with stuff like a mini frame pump, heavy bottle cages, and a saddle bag loaded with 18lbs of tube patches to make it a proper training bike.
To test out the backup race bike I had cleaned up for a stage race, I took it out for a lunchtime spin. It embodied every overused Bicycling magazine review catchphrase.
"Laterally stiff, yet vertically compliant."
"Stable, confidence-inspiring ride."
"Slices through the air like a samurai sword."
"Solidly transfers power from the pedals to the ground."
... and so on and so forth.
My position was low and aggressive. The wheels didn't flex into the brake pads when I applied anything over 35 watts to the pedals. I looked down at my wattage and speed and was amazed at how effortless it all felt. The bike was alive in a way that the Cannondale could never be, no matter how much high-end carbon I threw at it.
One of the reasons I buy and build as many frames as I can is that I am greedy. Another is that I am completely clueless as to what I like in a bike. I can't look at a spec sheet and geometry chart and tell if a bike will feel like a rocket or a wet noodle. Some bikes that others hate I absolutely love. There's no accounting for taste.
What I can say is that I like my backup race bike. It's the same vintage as the Cannondale, but light years more to my liking. I've ridden newer bikes with more of the latest-and-greatest technology and been less inspired to ride. For whatever reason, this bike just does it for me.
It's alive.
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