The perfect bike

I was out on a solo training ride last Saturday. [Oh all right, it didn't start out as a solo ride but the bunch got too caught up in the sprint to hear my plaintive “wait for meeeee”.] Anyway, as it is wont to do, my mind started to wander. I began to think about what would go into making the perfect bike. Thought I would share my revelations with all who read this blog... all one of you. (Thanks Mum!)

My very first thought was that it would have to have a comfortable saddle. Might have something to do with the fact I'd just ridden 80 clicks. And had another 20 to go.

Is it just me or do bicycle saddles look like implements of torture? There must be hundreds of saddles out there but they all seem to be along similar lines: small, thin and sparsely padded. And that sparsely padded part seems to be optional – there are some available that have no padding at all! Nothing but carbon. Ouch!! Surely, surely such a saddle is only purchased by the my-rider-is-lazy-and-sitting-down-way-too-much-I'll-show-them type coach!?

Anyway, I'll take a nice big, well padded saddle. These are usually shied away from by serious bike riders. They claim that if a saddle is too padded then it rubs you up as you pedal. Hmm – I will have to think of a solution to that later...

The next thing I thought about were the brakes. [Thanks driver, I did have right of way there!!!] Yeah, I want brakes. Brakes that work. Even when it's wet. Especially when it's wet!!

Obviously I should go for disc brakes. Our mountain bike brethren long ago worked out that in anything less than perfect conditions it was wise to use something other than rubber on alloy rims. And they had never experienced the joys of rubber on carbon rims – wet carbon rims!! Well, I'm not too proud to copy. I'll have disc brakes thanks. And while I'm at it I may as well go for the closed system hydraulic ones. No cables getting gummed up that way. OK, good.

Now I'm going to enter the realms of the really uncool... mirrors. Yep, that's right – I want mirrors. Sure, they're dorky but they are also useful. How else do you enjoy the look of agony on the face of the rider behind you as you turn the screw. How else do you watch the pack disappear behind you as you put in a killer attack. How else do you spot the sag wagon in time to make sure they don't see you intentionally break you own spoke so you have excuse to get in the van?

I figure that lights would be a good idea too. For some reason cyclists need to start most rides in the dark. Evidence of this? When summer arrives and it starts to get light earlier the bunch departure times are adjusted so that we leave earlier. Perish the thought that I would get up in day light!?!

So I want a light. Not one of those piddly little LED jobs. I want a real light. One that lets me see more than a metre down the road. One that stays bright for more time than it takes to reach the bottom of my driveway. One that I can use to intimidate motorists. OK, better chuck in a decent battery too.

Speaking of lights, maybe I should throw in some indicators. Sticking my arm out is all very well but I've yet to work out how to keep it out whilst taking a round-a-bout at speed and dodging debris, potholes and the errant car or two. Indicators would be easier. And maybe if I had them then cars would respect me more too. Hey! Stop laughing!!

Now that I'm getting older I'm finding that my knees can get stirred up a bit from all the bending that comes with pedalling. So maybe I should add a couple of pegs where I can rest my feet when it all gets a bit much. That would also address the friction problem that supposedly comes with a cushy saddle.

At this point in my musing I started to ride up a hill. As I puffed and panted my way up I realised that all of these wonderful additions wouldn't do any favours to the weight of the bike. Maybe I should make one final addition. Add something that would give just a little bit of assistance.

When I arrived home I did some research on the net to see if my perfect bike was available. Lo and behold I found that someone was already producing it...


Yep, my perfect bike is a motor bike. Let's see them drop me now!!

Tortoise

An Introduction to Crashteriums

Daylight savings has arrived and all over the country it's criterium season.

For the uninitiated a criterium is a bicycle race that is conducted on a short road circuit. Short as in often less than one kilometre long and rarely more than 3 kilometres.

Though short, these circuits are often “technical.” When a cyclist uses the word technical what they really mean to say is “it'll be a miracle if you stay upright for one full lap let alone the whole race.” Course designers seem to delight in making sure there is at least one corner where a cyclist would have to defy the laws of physics to get around at any speed above a crawl. Guess it's a good thing that most cyclists don't study physics. You can tell the ones who do - they become course designers.

Races are either run over a set number of laps or for a set length of time and then a set number of laps. As in race for 40 minutes and then the next time you cross the start/finish line race for another three laps. My local races use the time + laps format. Now let's think about this for a minute. The faster you go, the further you have to race. You would think that there would be a gentleman's agreement that the bunch would proceed at a crawl for the first 40 minutes and then race for the last few. That would be the sensible approach... but cyclists were never known to be sensible. I mean they are trying to defy physics on that corner after all!

Criteriums are raced in a fast and furious manner. Given that the circuit is short and the straights are shorter it is vitally important to be up the front of the bunch. If you are caught down the back when the hammer goes down there is very little chance of moving up. What that means is everyone wants to be at the front... trouble is that there is only so much room up there. The end result is that everyone tries to move up by going faster than both the guy at the front and the others who are also trying to move up. In other words the sprint starts when the gun goes and keeps right on going until the finish.

The positioning problem is further compounded by the fact that a rider wants to be at the front but not on the front. If you ride on the front you are exposed to the wind and so do more work than everyone else in the pack. So you have the guy on the front desperately trying to get off the front, the guy in third desperately trying to move up a position and the guy in second desperately trying to hold his position. If you thought cycling is a non-contact sport you haven't been caught in the melee that is criterium racing.

My grade in the local criterium has taken an interesting approach to the positioning problem. We attempt to fit ten riders in the first few rows hence increasing the number who are in the “perfect” position. At first I thought this was a suicidal approach – those corners are bad enough single file. Then I worked out the thinking behind the tactic: packed so close there is no way a rider can fall – there just isn't the room! A side benefit is that there is no way an A grade rider could beat us – they wouldn't make it around the first corner!!

Where do I ride in a criterium? My usual place: off the back. I was embarrassed about this initially but after riding past the bodies strewn across the road the last couple of weeks (seems there is enough room to fall after all) I have kind of decided that I don't really want to catch the bunch after all.

Tortoise