Hate Disclaimer
Hate Volume 2 here
Hate Volume 1 here
Schwag list here

The Bike Continued
So, my bike progression went as follows:
Bianchi
Cannondale
DeRosa
Guru
And Cannondale again.

I’ve already written about my quasi-obsession with the Bianchi, so no need to whip that horse any more. It was my first bike and I really couldn’t tell you much about the ride qualities, other than it was steel and I really liked the celeste paint – that’s enough for me.

The First Cannondale
I bought this bike at a bike shop in Kansas City, and unbeknownst to me at the time, the shop owner decides to dump an extra 54cm (I ride a 56) frame on a sucker (me). So, the bike was extra tiny, but I really didn’t know that. The bike was white and had really big tubes – which I thought was cool and technically advanced.

I had this bike for about 5 years or so, it was as solid as a rock and transferred every bump and nook and cranny on the road to my ass, as it was super stiff and two sizes too small for me.

Overall review:
Ow, my butt!

The DeRosa
I got this bike when I lived in Connecticut; I went for easy riding steel after the Cannondale beating I took. This bike had a classic paint job and was blue and white. It was a pretty machine. Probably heavier than a lot of machines out there, but I liked it. I had this bike about 5 years or so also (are you sensing a pattern here?). One thing about this bike, whenever I hit over 40 mph or so on a descent, the bike would get a wicked speed wobble. I tried everything I could to remedy this, but never seemed to get it right. Not sure if it was my idiocy or the bike itself. That one’s a toss up.

Overall review:
Nice vintage look, didn’t appreciate the way it filled my chamois with fear poop on descents.

The Guru
I went for the team bike with the Guru. It was significantly lighter than the DeRosa, and had a nice ride as it had carbon forks and seat stays with its aluminum tubes. It had a yellow and black flame job. I have to say this bike rode very well and I only had one real problem when one of the cable holder thingies popped off. It was replaced and things were fine. But I saw the writing on the wall and saw it was time to replace the flaming Guru. It lasted 4 seasons, I think.

Overall review:
Good bike, bad paint. You’d think I’d get over the paint, but I never did.

The New Cannondale

“Bike kinda looks like this, but not really.”

I was able to acquire this bike through attaching myself to a deal. My requirements for bikes have gone from “sweet” to “cheap.” Am I a jaded bike consumer? Not really. I just have two daughters to put through school. I suppose one day I’ll become that guy – the empty nester with a flash bike with nice equipment, but for the next 20 years or so, I’ll take what I can get. Unless, some company decides to send me a free bike (consider that hint dropped.) The odds of that happening are right next to the odds of Salvatore Commesso ski jumping his way to gold.

Let me start by saying that I’m the savviest technical person – anyone who’s read any review of mine can attest to that. But I can’t help but wonder whether you conform to your bike’s characteristics after a while. I think maybe you get used to your bike and it becomes familiar – unless it has a speed wobble that fills your spandex with panic.

What I think I’m trying to say is that most bikes these days are very similar. Unless you have them side by side and can hop from one to another and ride them, I don’t think you can tell them apart easily. The Cannondale is comfortable and steady and light, what else do I need? Oh, and the paint is petty, blue and aluminum finish showing through.

I suppose I should mention the frame is a CAAD 8. It’s aluminum with a carbon fork, and the tubes are shaped and bent and aero looking. I can’t really say they are aero without a wind tunnel, but they look fast. This Cannondale doesn’t beat me up at all and I can do my standing no hands trick on it.

Overall Review:
I don’t ask much of a bike. It’s light, doesn’t wobble, has nice paint and I can perform tricks with it.

Time for hate…
Where’s my free bike?

Where does this leave us?
Buy a bike – enjoy it, don’t fall off of it.

Special guest hate
Since I despise working on headsets and bottom brackets – not to mention the fact that I have an integrated headset on my bike – this week’s hate will be done by none other than Mr. Andy Shen! He has the technical expertise and tools to do this one, and if he does well, maybe he’ll get to work his way up the food chain and review a kickstand next time! What an incentive! Don’t tell me I don’t know how to motivate. Plus, he takes photos! – schmalz

American Classic Ultra-light Headset
The motivation for starting this site, aside from our undying love for you, O amateur bike racer, was the hope that someday we’d be inundated by schwag. For now, however, our schwag is commensurate with our stature in the e-world. So while Mr. Pez tools around on a freebie custom painted bike, American Classic sends Schmalz a headset to test, which is then kicked down to me.

American Classic is known for making light stuff, and for it’s refusal to bow to trends and marketing. Their product names are notoriously dry and the products themselves are likewise blocky and spartan. The Ultra-light headset is no different. Unlike a Chris King Nothreadset, which sets bike nerds’ hearts atwitter with it’s curvaceous lines and iridescent colors, the AC is black and barely designed. Even the packaging is minimal – a nondescript white box and an instruction sheet that looks like it was xeroxed two up to save paper. There’s no danger that your hard earned $80 went to pay for graphic designers, industrial designers, copywriters, ad execs, or marketing hacks.

The most touted feature of the Ultra-light is that it’s top cap is also it’s upper race, a feature it shares with the Nothreadset. In other headsets, such as Aheadset, Cane Creek, or Campy, the upper race slips tightly over the steerer, and the top cap pushes down on the race. One provides the preload force, the other grips and centers the steerer. Presumably, by combining the two elements, preload can be reduced, allowing the bars to turn more freely. The AC’s top cap has two O-rings to center and grip the steerer tube, while the King has one.

In practice, it’s pretty hard to discern a difference between the AC and the cheapo Aheadset it replaced. In fact, those twin O-rings grip the steerer so well that once I cinched everything up, I wasn’t able to decrease the preload while rocking the bike, even with the top bolt completely loosened. It seems to me that the difference between perfect preload and excessive preload is so minute, that a top cap with so much drag makes it impossible to do much fine tuning. In any case, cartridge bearings aren’t that finicky, and it was pretty easy to get the bars to turn freely with no play.

@##=#<3,r>@##=#Compared to the industry standard, the King Nothreadset, the Ultra-light is lighter and $50 cheaper. The AC is 77 grams (claimed), not including stem cap or star nut. (Why would you list a weight minus essential parts?) Weight Weenies has it at 81 grams, the King at 98 grams. The King does have a very robust crown race, far more likely to stand up to multiple installations and removals. Unlike the King, the AC’s bearings pop right out of the cups, making them easier to service or replace (then again, I’ve never had a problem with King bearings).

So where does that leave us? Headsets either work or they don’t. With the advent of integrated headsets, they’re even more ‘out of sight out of mind’. The only time I think about a headset is when I’m building a bike, when it fails, or if it’s pretty. The Ultra-light was fairly straightforward to install, though you’ll need a mallet to get that top cap down the steerer. I won’t be able to comment on it’s longevity for quite a while. Which brings us to aesthetics. You might applaud AC for taking a stand against curves, colors, and style (lighter, cheaper, and maybe as durable is nothing to sneeze at), but bike components don’t sit under a hood. I for one will always be a sucker for pretty anodization and beautiful lines. If you have a heart of stone then the AC is your headset, but my dream bike will probably sport a King in a matching color, $50 be damned.

The Bike
It was bound to happen, one day I was going to have to review my bike frame. I’m going to save the detailed technical explanation (well, as technical as I get) for next week. Because I’ve already written thousands of words (Toyota-United interviews) for the site this week, I’m going to quasi-mail this one in. This week will be a brief history of my bikes through the ages.

My bike obsession began in my junior year of high school, that summer I attended a summer program at the University of Iowa, and one of the instructors was a sculptor who was also a cyclist. His name was Steve and he was a cool guy who everyone loved, and he also rode everywhere on a bike, but not just any bike – he was always on his road bike. I wish I could remember what frame he rode, but I can’t as I wasn’t as savvy or as geeky as I am now. I do remember it made an impression – a strong impression. In fact Steve was probably responsible for at least three people I know acquiring road bike, and, yes it was a cult – what’s your point?

I wouldn’t be able to afford a bike of my own until my second year of college two years later. I had been watching the Tour for years at that point, and when it was time to get my first road bike, I think I made a good choice – a steel Celeste Bianchi. It boasted the newest Biopace technology on it from Shimano.

I loved riding that bike, I paraded it around school and out into the Kansas City countryside, but college financial boondoggles caught up to me and I had to relinquish my ride to pay the bills and tuition and such (um, beer).

So I sold my beloved Bianchi to my cousin who also happened to go to the same school as I did. A couple of years later, I was able to afford another bike and my bikes since then have been as follows:
Cannondale
DeRosa
Guru
And Cannondale again.

And that’s where we find ourselves today.

Time for hate…
My cousin still has that Bianchi, he has developed the annoying habit of collecting bikes and he won’t let go of it. I still keep trying to buy it back. Dale, sell me my damn bike back!

Where does this leave us?
Dale, sell me my damn bike back!

Pearl Izumi AmFIB Gloves@##=#<1,R>@##=#
Since we’re currently engulfed in the winter that never was – it doesn’t seem quite appropriate to review winter gloves, but if I’m about anything it’s being inappropriate. Since no cycling-related companies fell for the hate bait
lately, this week’s review focuses on my Pearl Izumi AmFIB gloves, purchased by yours truly about two years ago or so.

The Finger(s)
These are good gloves; I was forced to buy them after my Pearl Izumi Lobster gloves finally left this earth. I wanted to get regular old “fingered” gloves because on the first cold ride of the year, I would forget I had the Lobsters on and when I would brake my two fingers in the “claw” would get between the brake lever and the handle bar, serving to make braking all but ineffective. Panic would follow and an annual lesson would be re-learned, it went this way every year, because well, I’m not smart.

By this time of year I usually have my temperature zones worked out. I have different sets of clothes mentally configured for 5 degree increments going up from 30 degrees. I don’t train in less than 30 degree weather (I will race in any weather, though), I used to go down to 25 degrees, but frankly, I can’t be bothered to dress that much anymore, plus I have the draw of my undead Kreitlers to contend with. Oh, and I forget my temperature zone clothing set up every year also, reference the “not smart” verbiage from above.

So, these gloves are for my 30-45 degree range. They can be used solo down to 35 degrees without any chilly digits, but to go lower than 35, I add some Craft glove liners. Then I’m good down to about 20 degrees or so.

Time for hate…
The problem I have with winter gloves is that when you pull your sweaty hands out of them after a ride the fuzzy liner pulls out and turns inside out. This forces your to shove your hands into the liner and do the finger wiggle tango until the liner is properly situated into the shell again. I hate having to do this, plus (due to being not smart) I forget how to do it properly afterwards.

Where does this leave us?
Get some and do your own 35 degree finger wiggle tango.