I think it’s a well documented fact that I dislike writing reviews. I find writing reviews to be tedious and boring, but right now we’re all on house arrest and the world is about five weeks away from reverting to an economy based on trading salt and spices, so I thought I’d suspend my normal review writing revulsion and share my thoughts with the world. Today I will be writing a review of my 1988 Bianchi Sport SX bicycle because I can’t be bothered to review anything else.

The story of this particular Bianchi

The year was 1988 and I was a sophomore at the Kansas City Art Institute. I was going to school full time, renting a home with as many roommates as possible and working an array of odd jobs to pay for food, art supplies (we used to have to actually buy sheets of Letraset and sheets of Pantone paper to complete design projects—what a goddam scam that was—thank heaven for computers) and shelter. Somehow I found myself with some extra money and did what I still do to this day when I find myself with extra cash—I blew it on bikes.

I found the object of my desire at the Midwest Cyclery. It was a celeste Bianchi and i wanted it because of those two words. Celeste. Bianchi. What, did you think I was going to buy a red Bianchi? The only properly colored Bianchi in my college student price range was the Sport SX model, which was outfitted with—wait for it—Shimano Exage components. With Biopace chanirings.  I couldn’t even afford the ubiquitous and affordable Shimano 105 gruppo. But I didn’t care, I was buying my first “real” bike, it was the right color and I had no idea that Biopace was ovalized trash.

My time with that bike lasted about six months. School costs were piling up and I was forced to sell my beloved Bianchi. I sold the bike to my friend and schoolmate Dale, and bade my Bianchi goodbye. I held out hope that I might one day purchase the bike from Dale, but he refused to sell the bike back to me, so I moved on to a Cannondale. I stayed in touch with Dale, and he kept the Bianchi for the next 30 years, even though I asked to purchase the bike from him no less than 50 times, his answer was always, “No.”, often accompanied with an evil laugh, as Dale enjoyed taunting me about the bike.

After about 25 years, I gave up on ever possessing the Bianchi, but then fate intervened. I got old. Exactly fifty years old to be precise. Dale took pity on me in my decrepitude and agreed to give up the Bianchi as a fiftieth birthday gift. It was one of the best gifts I’ve ever received, right up there with the AFX set I got for Christmas in 1977.

Now that you have a 30 year old bike, what do you do with it?

After I took possession of the prodigal Bianchi, I decided to replace the components. As mentioned before, the bike came with Shimano Exage parts, and I decided the Bianchi needed an upgrade. For this upgrade, I chose to outfit my bike with a Shimano Dura Ace 7400 gruppo. Now, many of you may think that putting Japanese parts on a mid-level Italian frame is akin to a hate crime, but Shimano was good enough for Bianchi to spec in 1988, so who am I to argue? Also, I’ve never owned anything made by Campagnolo, and I never plan to, not out of any malice, it’s just that I know and enjoy Shimano parts—I’m old, what am I going to do, learn Italian stuff?

Now that I had hatched my plot, it was time to abscond to eBay to acquire the parts needed to complete my plan. I soon learned the pornographic thrill of seeing the letters “n” “o” and “s” together on a listing. NOS is an acronym for “new old stock”, and it indicates that a part has been squirreled away for decades by what I can only assume is an obsessive lunatic. I was able to get a set of NOS Dura Ace brake calipers, and acquiring them was NOT, I repeat NOT as rewarding as graduating from college. I was not as fortunate with the rest of my Dura Ace gruppo, and had to carefully peruse listing photos for signs of wear. After about $400-ish dollars, I had my parts.

Well, I had most of my parts. I made an exception in my old parts menagerie when I opted for a set of TRP drilled brake levels. I did this because they are glorious piece of equipment, and they are so beautiful that I find it creepy how much I enjoy ogling them. The levers also have an ingenious push button quick release system that I HAVE to push every time I walk by the bike, as it delights me to no end. I wish every set of brake levers did this, but that would require rim brakes, which are going to die a slow death.

Riding a thirty year old mid-level bike

Well, it’s a thirty year old mid level steel bike, there’s no way it compares with the speed and capability of my Specialized Venge. My Venge has electronic shifting, hydraulic disk brakes, aero wheels and a carbon frame (I’ve substituted this bike for a year of college for each of my daughters, but don’t mention that to them—I plan on surprising them with that information), its ride characteristics are truly extraordinary, but this isn’t about riding a fast bike, this review is about riding an old bike.

The Bianchi is a 56 cm frame, and as a caveat I should mention that ideally I would ride a size 55 frame, but almost no manufacturers make a size 55 frame—these days they solve fit issues with the dual solutions of MOAR SEATPOST and MOAR STEM. Since the Bianchi is a 56, I feel much higher off the ground, up in the thin air of the two additional vertical centimeters. This higher perch feels less responsive, but I can’t fault the frame for being big, I can only shame myself for being too short to deserve the Bianchi.

The Bianchi is also comically heavy when compared to any modern bike. It weighs in at 23 pounds, for comparison’s sake, my Venge weighs 17.6 pounds. Carrying it out of my basement for a ride feels like a Cross Fit session. The bike’s weight also contributes to the decrease in responsiveness, but I’m not here to fat shame my celeste darling.

I opted for friction instead of indexed shifting for my downtube levers. I did this for two reasons: one, it’s super cool and retro to friction shift and two, I couldn’t get the indexing dialed in correctly. My shift lever and rear derailleur would not play well together, so I turned the car around and drove to friction town. The front derailleur is friction also, and it shifts like the smoothest butter. Seriously, shifting to the big ring is a sensual experience, soooooo satisfying.

As far as the brakes go, they’re side-pull garbage. If you ever want to talk yourself into disk brakes, you can borrow my Bianchi and feel the terror of vintage rim brakes. I have no idea how racers the past didn’t end up getting flung off the road on every mountain descent. 

I can almost hear you saying right now, “But Dan, what about that smooth steel ride?” Well, voice in my head, yes, the ride is much less, shall we say “sharp” than my Venge. Riding the Bianchi is like riding an old Buick, you can roll over things and simply not ever notice. Road chatter is not a thing on the Bianchi, which is nice, but it’s weird to be that disconnected from the road, it’s like riding with a numb ass. 

In conclusion, the Bianchi is heavy, slow, unresponsive and antiquated. Should you buy one? Lord, no! New bikes are better in every way. I have this bike because it was my first be-pedaled love, and I am willing to forgive any of its flaws. I hope to hang on to it forever, because if I have to sell it to Dale again, I’ll have to wait until I’m 90 to get another shot at owning it.