Cycling

Five-time maillot jaune was visiting schools in Yorkshire city with race director Christian Prudhomme read more

Passed through cycling families, old, creaky bikes bring us together like little else. Photo: Matthew Beaudin | VeloNews.comSTEAMBOAT SPRINGS, Colo. (VN) — The mechanic was visibly cynical about this machine and its ornaments, and perhaps rightfully so. It’s aging without the grace of classic steel, and it hasn’t been put to the Cat. 4 pastures and collegiate B races with the other carbon hand-me downs of its generation. He ticked off the laundry list of maladies: toasted chain, torched front rings, sagging cables. He didn’t mention the worn yellow bar tape. He didn’t have to. Services were arranged. Because this isn’t any 15-year old bike. This is the Hornet, an American-made machine of carbon and titanium that’s passed through my family to riders of varied states of ability and purpose. It took the name of the Hornet for obvious reasons. A yellow front triangle, and some lamentable yellow tape my mechanic and friend found in the Telluride Free Box — a bin for outcast objects, one last chance before the dumpster. It began its life as something I coveted immensely. A Douglas, painted in my father’s team colors for a club that’s gone the way of the dumpster itself, the Garden of the Gods Breakfast Club, out of Colorado Springs, it even had my father’s name painted on the top tube: “Chris Beaudin,” in silver upon a blue streak. He raced it for a few years, and then relegated it to the trainer bike, where he talked to the top tube and to himself, as we all do when we ride both indoors and out. It was eventually passed to me to ride in Telluride’s shoulder seasons, which are more like plateaus, and I rode it from time to time, more a flirtation with fitness for the trails than anything else. I think our third ride together was some 130 miles from Telluride to Moab in a charity ride in which I flatted on the first descent out of town, was dropped by the large group and rode 80 or so miles alone, just me and the Douglas, until I found a friend in Paradox Valley who’d promised to stay with me about 10 hours prior. We came to know each other that day, the bike and I. But mostly, it sat unloved underneath my stairs, collecting dust on its ever-still cranks and once-coveted silver Mavic wheels. If a bike could cry, it would have. There’s no telling what it thought of me, though I’m certain it protested my inability to descend. The fact that people were able to ride 60 miles per hour on only suggestions of tires shocked me. But last spring, when I took this job, I began to ride it, trying to stuff my eyes and legs with the language of the road. I’d been a mountain biker only, and lacked the literacy of the road. I was a fan and spectator of racing, but never anything more. Slowly, I began to speak it. First in the lower back agony of a road rookie, then in timid descents, and slow progressions stalled by overestimations of my ability. The Douglas never protested to these injustices, having gone from my father’s skilled hands to my bumbling newness, its only trepidations voiced in a creaky bottom bracket, or cables that had seemed to turn from metal braids to elastic bands. I took care of it. My friend Max added yellow tape to its mélange of color last spring, and the Hornet was born. I showed up in Boulder with it — a kid on his first day at school in old clothes — but I threw it into the mountains here nonetheless. Its days were numbered in Boulder and we both knew it. I had a bike built for me by Independent Fabrication, a dream I’d had for sometime. The Hornet returned to its yellow and blue still life, leaning against a wall in semi-permanence, its tires leaking their secrets over months, its stem still turned slightly upward, an imagined turning up of its nose at me and the Indy Fab, white as a cue ball. What the Hornet had in misguided color, the Indy had in understated elegance and a flawless new Dura-Ace group. The Hornet had come to the end of its second chance, and its days on the road paused. And for once, the bot

American Classic's new Argent Road Tubeless is one of the latest entries into the new school of road wheelsets. They're light, they're wide, and, as the name suggests, they're also tubeless compatible. Add in a sturdy build, a good ride quality, and a fairly reasonable price and the result is an excellent choice for everyday riding or racing.American Classic founder Bill Shook might object to this sort of analogy but the Argent Road Tubeless rims are essentially the road equivalent of Stan's NoTubes' venerable mountain bike hoops. The internal width is unusually generous at 19.4mm (Mavic's latest Cosmic Carbone 40 C is still just 15mm across), the effective diameter is slightly larger than the usual ETRTO-regulated 622mm, and the bead hooks are lower and thinner than usual.As a result, any tire you use will measure considerably wider than it otherwise would on a more conventional rim, while tubeless models will inflate more readily (and seat more securely). The Argent Road Tubeless rims require tape to be airtightWe tested the Argent wheels with a familiar pair of Bontrager R3 TLR tubeless-ready road tires, which are labeled as 25mm wide but measured more than 27mm across once installed – and we inflated them with a floor pump, too.Armed with such volume and girth, it's no wonder that ride quality is impressively smooth, with a sublime glide over broken tarmac and still a reasonably composed feel when we hammered the Argents across Belgian pavé. Cornering performance is confidence inspiring, with the broad contact patch offering up heaps of reassuring traction and the wide rim providing excellent casing support at more extreme lean angles.More conventionally sized tires obviously decrease the volume and cushioning, but we the Argents still ride well.Durability has been very good, with just a slight touch-up required after the Argents made a trans-Atlantic journey stuffed in a Ritchey Breakaway case. Thanks to half a scoop of Stan's NoTubes sealant, we've rarely had to pump these up, either; nor did we suffer any flats during testing.American Classic doesn't make any specific aerodynamic claims with the Argent Road Tubeless, and if there are any measurable gains over a box-section rim, they were tough to discern. That being said, crosswind stability is good, with a stiff Belgian spring crosswind generating just a modest tug on the bar.American Classic includes ultralight aluminum valves of its own design The Argents are admirably light – especially so when you consider the generous width and medium 30mm depth. Claimed weight is 390g for the bare rim or 1,372g for a complete wheelset. At an actual weight of 1,400g for our test set (with tubeless tape pre-installed), the figures are very believable. With the reasonable spoke count (18 front, 24 rear), two-to-one rear lacing pattern, and thick bladed stainless steel spokes they're fairly solid, with minimal flex under hard cornering and quick reflexes when you lay down the power. Part of that fantastically low weight is due to the Argent's unusually thin aluminum extrusion. As a result, Shook prefers an older-style pinned rim joint over a welded one, saying the latter introduces heat-related shape changes that then have to be corrected afterwards.The Argents' sidewalls thus aren't machined, either, but braking performance was still excellent in both wet and dry conditions. We did, however, notice some brake pulsing on the front rim due to a slightly imperfect seam. However, just like in the old days, it eventually went away as things wore down a bit. While we'd prefer this issue didn't exist at all, it's at least a temporary one (the rear one was fine).American Classic seems to have exorcised the demons from its innovative rear hub design as we had no problems with the clever cam-actuated, six-pawl mechanism. It engages securely, coasts with just the slightest buzz, and is easy to service when required. The rear hub features differential spoke flange diameters t

When a bicycle leaves you at a loss for words, is that a good thing? With hundreds of miles now on this Honey Cyclocross demo bike, I am leaning toward yes. Because I'm not exactly itching to give it back.Last summer I was briefly without a suitable bike for dirt and gravel. When a local unpaved ride came around, a buddy lent me her Honey Cyclocross racing bike. I wrote about that bike here, then rode the Kearsarge Klassic on it successfully. And that should have been that. But months later, even as I happily rode my own bike, memories of that CX Honey kept haunting me. In my first impressions write-up I described how "different" the handling felt from anything I'd tried before. As a wannabe bicycle designer, this gnawed at me. What was it about that Honey? Enter geographical luck of the draw. Honey Bikes are local to me, the project of Rob Vandermark whom I know through the Ride Studio Cafe bicycle shop and Seven Cycles. Last Fall, we had occasion to talk about the cyclocross bike I'd tried, and I struggled to articulate why I found its handling so "different." At this time, a batch of Honey demo bikes was being prepared for the Ride Studio Cafe, and one of them was set up for me. The idea was a long-term test ride: I would ride the bike until it became familiar, allowing me to articulate what I found so striking about its handling. In particular, we discussed how appropriate a bike like it might be for unpaved rides, and how it compared to the 650B low trail model I was comfortable with.The bike arrived just as a series of snow storms hit the Northeast, which made for some beautiful pictures of the "winter lilac" colour.I should note here that the bicycle reviewed here is completely stock in everything from size and geometry to component group and finish. Honey bikes are not custom, but made-to-order stock bikes, available in a variety of sizes and option packages. This production method allows them to keep prices in the $2,400-4,000 range for complete bikes, and to offer quick turn-around. The bicycles are steel, with carbon fiber forks (though steel forks are also available). Models include road, utility, mixed terrain, mountain, cyclocross and more. All frames are handmade in the USA, the current series produced by Seven Cycles in Watertown, MA.Honey bikes are offered in two types of finishes. The standard finishes are tone-on-tone, and so subtle that the logos and other markings are virtually invisible unless you stand inches from the bike or intentionally bump up the contrast in pictures to draw them out. For those who prefer a finish with visible logos, Honey also makes "team" colour schemes, where the panels and lettering contrast the main finish.Like the bike I had borrowed last summer, this is a stock 52.5cm Honey Cyclocross frame - the sizing figure referring to the virtual top tube length. But because this bike was set up for me from the get-go, it fit me much better than the one I'd ridden previously. The handlebar height and width, the stem length, and the saddle position were configured with my fit in mind. The brakes were routed right=front, the way I set up my own. When I got on the bike, everything immediately felt natural. The bike was set up with a SRAM Rival group and TRP mini-v brakes. The brakes work excellently (more on that here). And while I have a Campagnolo setup on my own bikes, I am also comfortable with SRAM levers and have no problem switching back and forth between the two systems. As I see it, going with SRAM on a bicycle like this has several benefits. The main one, is that SRAM now makes it possible to use low gears with a road drivetrain and modern integrated shifters. Their new wifli system, despite the silly name, is extremely useful in that it allows for a 12-32t cassette. Paired with a 50/34t crankset, that almost gives you a 1:1 low gear, without having to do anything unconventional to the drivetrain. Unofficially, I am told that the wifli derailleur will also handle a 34t cog from a

Disc brakes continue to sweep through the indusry, Pinarello the next company to jump onboard read more

Announcement hoped for within 10 days, as both sides confirm discussions

Another day, another installment in our Car Industry Strikes Back series wherein the automobile industry, in their own quirky way, do what they can to ridicule the competition, be it bicycles or public transport.This Mercedes commercial is - by car industry standards - just plain goofy. Let it be a sign that they're slipping up and getting a bit desperate. Two pro drivers, Lewis Hamilton and Nico Rosberg, are cast in the roles of pro drivers who will never have careers as actors. The payoff at the end is classic Car Industry Strikes Back.Thanks to @CantuBicicletas on Twitter for the link.Copenhagenize the planet. And have a lovely day.

Last year’s Cannondale Scalpel 3 was a carbon framed, 80mm (3.1in) travel, lightweight whippet with 26in wheels, a sub-11kg (23lb) weight and a £3,000/US$4,100 price tag. It’s all change this year, with a move to big wheels and 100mm (3.9in) travel for the entire Scalpel range – and you’ll need to cough up a hefty £4,500/US$5,550 to score the carbon-framed Scalpel 29er Carbon 2. The new 3 gets an alu chassis instead, but retains Cannondale’s proprietary single-sided Lefty fork. Is it still a worthy racing snake?Ride & handling: Plush rear but heavy for a race weaponThe classic zero pivot, carbon-stayed Scalpel has a ride quality all of its own. Less full-blown full-susser than hardtail with added traction and comfort, the suspension’s unique geometry works with the bike’s low weight to deliver a fast, comfortable and ground-hugging ride. It’s an acquired taste. It’s also in a class of one. No other production bike offers quite the same combination of pace, weight and comfort.Replacing the carbon rear end with a conventional alu suspension setup has changed all that. The Scalpel 3’s suspension does everything that it ought to do without fuss, delivering 100mm of rear wheel travel with no nasty surprises. In that respect it’s arguably an improvement on the pivotless carbon alternative, which, last time we tested it in its 100mm travel guise, struggled to deliver the full range of travel. That’s the good news. The bad news is that the extra weight over last year’s carbon bike significantly blunts the Scalpel’s performance. With its conventional rear end and conventional weight, the Scalpel 3 doesn’t stand out in the way that it used to (or that the more expensive carbon versions arguably still do). It’s fighting for attention among a plethora of similarly priced and specced mid-travel bikes. And, although the Lefty fork gives it crowd-pulling potential, that’s not matched by the on-trail reality. The Lefty’s accurate steering and sound engineering principles aren’t in doubt, but it needs better internals to deliver on the promise of details such as roller bearing smoothness. All of which begs the question – what’s the point of the Scalpel 3? Without the comfort and weight advantages of a pivotless carbon rear end, it’s just another mid-travel mid-ranger with a below-par fork up front. If you want to race and you can afford the extra, the Scalpel 2 would be a better bet. But if you want a bike for more rounded trail duties, the harsh truth is there are better options available than the Scalpel 3.Frame & equipment: Alu chassis has piled on the poundsCannondale’s original Scalpel concept was all about a pivotless rear end. Carbon chainstays, shaped to flex at a certain point, were supported by the usual air shock and made a compliant rear end that’d stay better planted in the rough than a race hardtail. At the higher end of 2013’s Scalpel range, the same principles still apply, even if the wheels are now bigger and the travel – nominally, at least – a bit longer. But the budget-minded 3 and the cheaper 4 both feature alu frames, which changes more than the price.Carbon Scalpels of the past pivoted partway along the chainstays. No normal full susser does that (for good reason – it’s not a great place to put the main pivot). So the Scalpel 3 has a traditionally positioned main pivot at the bottom of the seat tube and a four-bar system driving a Fox Float shock with CTD. It gives the Scalpel 29er 3 a much more conventional suspension setup than previous incarnations – which is a good thing in terms of rear suspension performance.The trouble is that the conventional design and aluminium build pile on the pounds, literally. This year’s Scalpel 3 is more than 2.3kg (5lb) heavier than last year’s. That’s a huge difference that radic

Sky American on weather, the mountain time trial and future races

Blanco rider and chef explain daily meals