It was over Seventy (70) American Freedom Degrees yesterday, and to celebrate I went Full Easter:
They say you should never go Full Easter, but after weeks of pursuing the Spirit of Gravel on fattish tires the bike felt impossibly lithe and fast, even if it does look like what would happen if you left a bag of Skittles out on the dashboard of your car for several hours, but then ate them anyway, and then threw them right back up onto the passenger seat.
And yes, I do also have black hoods for the bike, but I mocked it up and, sorry, BO-ring!
By the way, I should remind you that the Record…sorry, SUPER Record components on the Faggin were given to me by the commenter who goes by the name of “Grouchy Doc,” who has since gone electronic and not looked back. So while I may malign the digitization of cycling, if this is the sort of stuff people get rid of when they make the switch then I say bring on the batteries!
Thank you once again, Grouchy Doc, for easily the most lavish gift I’ve ever received from a reader…though if anyone else would like to try and outdo it you’re more than welcome.
But yes, as I’ve said before but am too lazy to look up where, there is just Something About The Faggin, though I’m always reluctant to ascribe magical qualities to the way a bicycle rides since I never know where the material properties end and the psychological stuff begins. Also, as soon as you start talking about that stuff you start to sound like a wine enthusiast, and, oenophiles are easily the most punchable group in modern society, because as soon as they start going on about “mouthfeel” you want to put your fist in there to add some texture:
By the way, that’s the AI’s take on “A oenophile sampling a new vintage and opining on it at great length.” Apparently it can get an oenophile right but not a cyclist…though I’m sure an oenophile will find at least a thousand things wrong with that image.
So yes, I’m not going to go on about the Faggin’s crotchfeel, except to say that getting on it is like putting on those old worn-out sneakers you still like to wear even though you’ve since gotten new sneakers…but I don’t know if that’s some wondrous property of the Italian lugged steel frame, or just because you expect it to ride like that because it’s an Italian lugged steel frame that literally looks like a worn-out sneaker.
Speaking of aesthetics, while it’s old and dinged up (and, at least according to my own amateur appraisal, constructed using “low-end” tubing, not like you could actually tell from riding it), I do think the Faggin deserves at least a new paint job one day, though I don’t know if I’d ever get around to it. See, the truth is I can’t do the pretty bike thing, it doesn’t work. I see pictures of immaculate color-coordinated road bikes, and well-considered gravel bikes in earthen hues, and Rivendae with special brass fasteners and bar tape finished in twine, but every bike I ride eventually gets ground into mundanity:
Nor for that matter can I do the while Ultraromance “studied dishevelment” thing. No, when I start to get creative things get dangerous…literally:
It’s all fun and games until Bartoli loses a kneecap.
Still, I admit I do occasionally fantasize about taking some exotic Italian cycling vacation that involves picking up a brand new Faggin:
No subject sets cyclists a-bickering like classic bikes versus modern bikes. Rim brake apologists and disc brake adherents resent each other only marginally less than [insert your favorite warring religious and/or ethnic groups here]. So it’s not just refreshing but downright inspiring that Faggin will make-a you a bike like-a ‘dis:
Or they’ll make-a you a bike like-a ‘dis:
And yes, that’s an ersatz Italian accent, don’t get all bent outta shape about it:
Still, something must be going on if a bike rides this smoothly with 23mm tires, right?
I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to ride 23mm tires now, but it feels delightfully transgressive:
So too does mixing a Super Record rear derailleur with a Shimano 105 hub:
Certainly nobody needed 11 speed, but at least the unintended result was that Campagnolo and Shimano ran out of room to create proprietary spacing that kept you from mixing and matching their cassettes and wheels.
Oops!
And if all that wasn’t thrilling enough, I squeeze a Campagnolo lever…
…and a Shimano brake stops the bike:
See that? Maybe the [insert your favorite warring religious and/or ethnic groups here] really can get along.
Speaking of skinny tires, everyone likes to point out that wider tires are faster, and wider tires are more comfortable, and wider tires are safer…and of course all that stuff is true. For the aging cyclist, riding skinny tires is like wearing a thong on the beach: tempting perhaps, but ultimately a bad idea. But you know what feels undeniably better on the skinny road tires of yesteryear? Climbing. I mean I doubt I’m actually any faster, but I sure feel like I’m dancing up those hills on a pair of skinny deer legs:
And isn’t cycling ultimately about deluding yourself?