The more we dig through the old magazines, the more interest there is in the clothing worn by racers when they were training in winter, or just riding around during the off-season. Heavy tweed plus-fours, sometimes without socks, but more often worn with long argyles, are certainly the most distinctive items donned by riders during that era. And unless it's a rainy day, wool knit sweaters in patterns and colors have always made sense. My favorite winter top was a slightly baggy old Castelli wool knit jacket - perhaps the most comfortable and rewarding piece of clothing I've ever owned.
Hats, caps, and berets seem to have a great deal of appeal. Worn black and square on the cranium ala Fausto and Serse Coppi, or something plaid at a rakish angle like Maurice Chevalier in "Love Me Tender", such styles could certainly say allot about the wearer. Tough guy or fashion horse, bon vivant or bonehead... take your pick.
More and more I appreciate the fashion statement our late friend Chris Beyer was making when he wore plus-fours at CdC a few years ago. Who will be the most stylish attendee at CdC'05?
A few weeks ago someone said they couldn't understand the attraction of riding a bike with primitive cambio Corsa shifter, and asked could I please explain what part of it was "fun". I've spent some time contemplating that, especially at the beginning of each ride, trying to think of how to define that aspect of Fun. I've also tried the opposite approach, grumbling to myself in mild frustration over difficult and inaccurate shifting, lackadaisical braking, and inadequate gear ranges. I still have no answer... perhaps it is beyond description or definition.
It's not like that with my wool jerseys - I know they're comfortable, warm in winter, cool in summer, neither clammy nor cauldron-like, but some people still don't believe me. Most clothing manufacturers certainly don't, as each year they introduce new and improved fabrics and methods of manufacture that are supposed to be so much better than anything available before. But it's just like with laundry detergents - if they were really "new and improved" as often as they say they are, by now all I'd have to do is open the bottle, pour it into the dirty clothes hamper, and my shirts would pop out the top, bright white and neatly folded, with little paper tags on the cuffs and collars. (And in a related story, items labeled "new larger size" would occupy fully half of the earth's surface.
I've been riding the Ancora all week, fine-tuning the parts and positions. It shifts, it stops, it rolls, the pedals spin, the crank rotates and move the chain. What more should I expect from a 60-years-old bike?... hold me up, move me from here to there, and back again, turn at the corners, and stop (well... slow down, at least) at the intersections. As a bicycle, it is functional.
Why would I choose the Ancora, rather than one of my modern bikes, for my daily evening (eveningly?) ride? I don't know how else to answer, so for today I'll just say it's because of the wheels. FB three-piece hubs, vintage wood rims, Clement Paris-Roubaix sausages. I've never ridden a more comfortable set of hoops. "The wide-section tubulars and light wooden rims combine into a magnificent mechanism for dampening the irregularities of various road surfaces."
Besides that, wood rims are really extraordinarily beautiful. Layers of laminate flowing in and out of the surface, wood grain patterns forming subtle lines and vees. When they're rolling, they loose the visual interest and become brown circles, but stop for a red light, and there they are again, shining up at you, warm and smooth and pleasant. And in the center, the thin chrome barrel of the 3-piece hubs, brilliant in the sun. No thousand-dollar wheelset makes a more lasting positive impression.
Aldo Ross
Blue Ball, Ohio