The Ride is the Ride
Yesterday the frame arrived. It actually did. A 61cm Burnt Amaranth Cervélo Solist Frame. Giddy as a Birthday Child I unpacked. There are few joys as deep and as joyful as unpacking a new set of wheels. Which in this case didn’t even come with wheels. It’s just the frame - and fork and seatpost. Of course. Now my original plan had been to secure the frame first. Why? I wanted the 2025 model in this particular Color. Cervélo has a horrific track record when it comes to liveries. Some model years are beautiful and coherent, whereas others induce aesthetic whiplash or are just bland. The inconsistency of their design arm is phenomenal. So when there does exist a serene and enjoyably liveried edition, chances are the next version will be garish, or unimaginative or in any other way impossible to own. It’s that bad. The year 2025 was the year Cervélo got it together. Either by design or by accident, they produced a uniquely elegant and unique version of their Soloist. In their parlance the color scheme is called ‘Dried Amaranth’, and in my parlance became 'Burnt Amaranth' I prefer that moniker. It is an off white, slightly bone colored base and a set of deep red decals that spell out the name and branding. It is simple, unusual and casually elegant. People online love it and I also think it looks rather fetching. The image of the warm sun reflecting on the paintwork adds to its appeal: a sleek race bike leaning against the wall of a coffee stop in late spring, catching rays and emanating a gentle glow. This image appealed to me. Deeply. Which is why I scoured the net for fully built bikes in my size - or at least a frameset. Eventually I found one. It was the last one this shop had. Other shops had ones in the size of 58, or 54, or 51. But not 61. The main component was getting scarce. So finally I made up my mind and ordered the frame. This was on Tuesday. Plan being I would then have until the end of the year - if I wanted - to source all other parts individually. I could take my time. Decisions are hard and options are manifold. Handlebars. I had never in my life had to decide which handlebar I wanted. A handlebar comes with the bike ! How else would I ride the damn thing ! You buy a bike, a handlebar is usually included. As are wheels, and a stem, and gear shifters and brakes and everything else you need to get going. Only I wasn’t buying a bike. I bought a frameset. Which means you have to decide which wheels to get, which handlebar, how long the stem should be: 70, 80, 90, 100, 110 or even 120 mm. Same with the bars: which width ? 38? 40? 42 ? 44 ? And which material. Carbon Fiber - as any pro would ride and any wannabe pro would recommend. Or aluminium, traditional and a tad heavier. And also not the price of a nine course three star Michelin dinner experience for two people. The plan was to take it slow. Take my time in making all these varied and complicated and important decisions. Why rush it. I could read up on which headset was actually better: a Ritchey 110 or maybe Zipp? There is even a brand called “Pro” that makes parts for non pros. Figure that. And this is the easy part. Because once you get to wheels - all hell breaks loose. Wheels are to cyclists what the Scala is to Opera enthusiasts. A place of worship and subliminal experience. Listening to fellow cyclists talk about wheels causes me to shift uncomfortably on my seat and scour the room for exits. When I bought my P3, admittedly a nerds bike, I was invited to look for a suitable wheelset to match my already outrageously expensive time trial bike. I indulged the mechanic - who was probably not a mechanic but rather a salesperson in functional work gear - and listened to his gentle sermon about carbon layups. He then went over to show me what he considered to be the best match for my high end bike. A wheelset that on its own was 1000£ more expensive than my complete bicycle. My scepticism was astronomical. And apt - as he continued to justify the price because the carbon Fiber technology had been invented by NASA. Hence the otherworldly price. I was unimpressed. How fast do these guys think I’m going to ride on this bicycle! I can barely hold 35km/h for any length of time. I’m not trying to re-enter the earths atmosphere! Sorry guys. I don’t need space grade technology on my road bike. It’s fine. I was convinced - and remain so - that good and sensible wheels are all I need. I’m not into hyperinflated narratives that dizzy you into spending a months wage on some rubber and spokes. That was my lesson from years back. Now I had accumulated extra time and experience on my own bikes. And the prospect of now spending the next months having these debates for each component didn’t appeal. Doesn’t appeal. I have trust in myself that I can make solid decisions quickly. Handlebars: I like the ones I have. That brand, that width and material - sorted. The stem. Turns out there is a Cervélo branded stem that is elegant and non flashy. Measured the length of my current one, adapted for the new geometry of the Soloist - Done. Wheels. I spent a few minutes - maybe 20, maybe more, looking at and researching wheels. I don’t need NASA tech and I’m also no fan of the Opera. The Scala can stay in Milan, my bike needs a set of elegant and non shouty wheels. Some queries later I found my pair. Newmen, subtle, modern, elegant. Done. They arrive today.
Turns out I’m not in love with the process of the build. For me, the ride is the ride. I want to get this bike in the road. No rush, but no procrastiphilophising about bearing technology and cockpit integration either. Get the parts, get on the road. The Ride is the Ride.