New bike! Yes, it’s that most exciting time in a triathlete’s life when I’ve decided that the moment has come to install some lovely new carbon componentry between my undeserving, celery-like legs.
Unlike many triathletes, I am not a serial new-bike-purchaser. I realise I’m probably out of step with the majority but rather than kick-start my season with a lean, mean, racing machine each spring, I tend to flog my bikes to death over the course of many years, only reluctantly parting with them when I’m starting to repair my repairs, and when the frame consists of more than 60% insulation tape.
Brunty's bikes
A quick look at the current stable of bikes in my garage should give you some idea of what I mean:
• Alan Cycles road bike purchased in 2004, with a one-off sky blue paint job on the frame, done for me by my local bike shop ‘Ride’ in honour of the mighty Coventry City.
We’ve completed 10 Ironmans together, countless half Irons and standard-distance races, plus the Fred Whitton, the GranFondo Cymru, the Legbreaker, Mont Ventoux, Alpe D’Huez, The Galibier and The Tourmalet. When I eventually croak I’m having it buried with me.
• Bianchi Nirone C2C road bike purchased in 2008 and (mis)used as my winter training bikes for the past 15 years.
• Brompton folding bike, purchased in 2010 and used by me on 1,000 commutes in 1,000 races against Deliveroo couriers. It also graced the Brompton World Champs in 2014 and 2018. I opted for the basic two-speed model, a decision I bitterly regret on any hill steeper than 10%.
• 1980 Pashley Roadster with 3-speed Sturmey Archer gears, purchased in 2019 after being found languishing in a barn, and restored to roadworthiness by me in 2020 just in time to become my lockdown bike of choice. It’s a beautiful ride apart from one annoying clicking sound, which might easily be my knees.
• A Ridgeback Rapide hybrid, ‘acquired’ second hand in 2020 and used as my daily bike for work, shopping, going to the pub and visiting my mum. It has the advantage that I can leave it anywhere without worrying about it being nicked, because not only is it worth absolutely nothing, you’d need a 34-inch inside leg just to reach the pedals, and only I know how to get the gears to change.
You’ll notice there’s no TT bike in that lot. I had a Kuota for many years but sold it when I realised that me sitting up every five minutes and saying ‘Oooh my f’ing back’ were nullifying its aero advantages.
Decisions, decisions
Despite having been cycling since the days of triathletes in Speedos I’ve always found buying new bikes a bit of a minefield, because I’m never entirely sure what I want.
I’m not someone who immediately goes for the most expensive bike I can afford, partly because in typically British fashion I think if you’re going to buy something flash you need to be good enough to use it.
And partly because it would detract from the beauty of the bike by having someone who looks like a lego Art Garfunkel perched on top of it.
My initial thought was to finally buy the bike of my dreams, a Colnago Mapei Master. But I honestly don’t think I’d ever have the courage to ride it because I’d be terrified of getting a microbe of dirt on it.
I’m also conscious that componentry has moved on since I last dipped my hand in my pocket, and things like Di2 electronic groupsets and disc brakes now come as standard.
I’ve never owned a bike with either of these, and I have a middle-aged man’s innate suspicion of any new technology I can’t repair with a hammer.
So somewhere out there some poor bike-shop assistant is going to be condemned to a long and tedious conversation with a bloke who clearly believes every new innovation is just something else to go expensively wrong.
While I'm deciding, I’ll continue to ride round on one of my existing ancient steeds, greeting each successful gear change with mild surprise and every frame creak with a look of worried suspicion.
Illustration: Dan Seex
