dbrk
05-18-2006, 10:14 PM
Yesterday's three hour plus ride began in Mendon, New York, which sits at the bottom of the Lake Ontario basin about ten miles south of the eastern edge of the city of Rochester. Once farms, much of Mendon turning into fancy sprawl with some McMansion sub-divisions but there are still many charming houses, fields of green, and horse farms, and lots of swirling, nearly directionless empty roads. We usually head south deeper into the Finger Lakes, back towards my house in Bristol. My riding pal Jim is not keen to ride the steep hills out of my driveway, which is a requirement in Bristol, so we usually start somewhere rolling, like Mendon or Canandaigua. It's about ten miles or twelve miles of rolling east and west to make the next major southern point, which is the old 5&20 paralleling the Thruway but south of it some miles. Anyway the riding and the weather changes dramatically south of the village of Bloomfield and into Bristol. There are at least five zones of weather over this course. Rolling hills take the place of any flats and it becomes impossible to avoid long, steady climbs and descents as you move south into the Finger Lakes. This is, imho, some of the best riding in America, comparable to Italy and France: many, many empty roads, green fields, sparse population, nice lake views. It's easy to stay off the major roads if you know where you are going. Pays to be a local.
I noticed I was feeling good about 45 minutes out. Ever notice that you have NO IDEA how you are going to feel until you actually ride? The morning had sent no signals and sometimes when I think, "Gee, it should be good today..." I find that it's just average and others when I feel numb, tired, or preoccupied I end up happy as a clam (on a bike). The bike was tuned superbly and my mix and match of parts was working just fine. But I was working pretty okay too.
The Legend is mostly DA9 but for the Campagnolo front derailleur, TA Zephyr crankset and bb, and Campagnolo Proton wheelset (with a 13-26 rear). I have 28mm Continental 2000 Ultras mounted, some of my favorite tires. Shifting was consistent and three previous rides had worked out saddle placement and height and that elusive piece of the reach. No two of my bikes are set up identically and I aspire to no such thing. I find the fit I like on each bike and for the most part this is close, but I adjust my points of contact and feel comfortable on nearly any bike after awhile. To love a bike, it has to have a _familiar_ fit, as if I am sitting _in_ it rather than just _on_ it. I can make this out in a few rides. Some bikes, like the mithral-colored Rivendell or the Ebisu Road push you back _into_ the Brooks B17 and you want to stay planted, settled, in the hammock. Others, like the Sachs invite you to a groove that lets you find comfort in many, many spots, as if the _whole_ bike were as one with you and the fit. The Legend falls into this second category. I can plant myself but unlike the randonneurs that want to you to _stay_ in the saddle, the Legend wants you to take advantage of its multiple positions and dynamics. The bike lives and moves with you and as you move the bike, so the bike makes you feel comfortable, at ease, and so allows you to take further advantage of its virtues. I found myself seated on some long climbs but then attacking and rising easily out of the saddle on others. I found myself deep in the drops for miles and then sitting up, hands off the bars, changing my jacket, eating a bar, and taking a virtual snooze while not losing a stroke. The Legend was happy holding a tight line, absorbing an importunate pavement, and responding when asked. When I wanted the bike to do nothing but go easy and straight without any effort, it did. When I wanted it to turn hard or accelerate at the crest of a climb out of the saddle, it did so perfectly.
I've not owned a Legend so gentle on my person or easy on my mind. It's truly a pleasure. Now, I love the ride of titanium bicycles. No doubt I prefer the ride of titanium to anything but the sweetest steel. The aesthetics of ti don't match lugged steel but that's a bit like comparing Boccherini to Shankar: different sorts of music, both virtuosi and wonderous but not one "over" the other. Serotta has delivered a Legend that works beautifully for me.
We rode down into Bristol, less than a mile from our house, avoiding the last big climb it takes to reach our spot (second highest in the county), and then turned north again back to Mendon. It's sort of downhill back to Mendon but more rolling, nothing flat for long. The wind changed from SSE to a strong westerly and kicked up something fierce for the last twenty minutes. I was tired and riding into the teeth of the wind but the bike was steady and happy, nothing could move it from its line, a good sign that the F3 fork is stellar and the frame is straight. We'd gone hard and sometimes fast. I was taking each sort of opportunity: long descents, long, steady climbs, sharp turns with gravel spots, rollers, and turns to make the bike respond, trying to do each differently. Again, my overall impression was that the Legend welcomed input, responded to however you _wanted_ to ride the bike, and so behaved perfectly under the exact circumstances to which you put it. It is a lively, active bike but not one that tells you how to ride it or invites you to pay attention or suffer the consequences. The ride was compliant and soft but never did it rub, skip, or fail to please. But most of all, the ride was fun and easy to love: ride the bike hard, the bike loves you back. Go so far as to ignore the bike and still the bike loves you back.
When I think of my Keepers, I think of bikes that never fail to please no matter how I feel. Some of these tell you what to expect as soon as you get on them. Others invite you to create the experience. The Legend does the latter.
There are so many ways to love cycling but this Serotta is surely an unmistakeable choice that cannot fail to make you love it even more.
dbrk
p.s. Pictures of the bike in the Gallery
I noticed I was feeling good about 45 minutes out. Ever notice that you have NO IDEA how you are going to feel until you actually ride? The morning had sent no signals and sometimes when I think, "Gee, it should be good today..." I find that it's just average and others when I feel numb, tired, or preoccupied I end up happy as a clam (on a bike). The bike was tuned superbly and my mix and match of parts was working just fine. But I was working pretty okay too.
The Legend is mostly DA9 but for the Campagnolo front derailleur, TA Zephyr crankset and bb, and Campagnolo Proton wheelset (with a 13-26 rear). I have 28mm Continental 2000 Ultras mounted, some of my favorite tires. Shifting was consistent and three previous rides had worked out saddle placement and height and that elusive piece of the reach. No two of my bikes are set up identically and I aspire to no such thing. I find the fit I like on each bike and for the most part this is close, but I adjust my points of contact and feel comfortable on nearly any bike after awhile. To love a bike, it has to have a _familiar_ fit, as if I am sitting _in_ it rather than just _on_ it. I can make this out in a few rides. Some bikes, like the mithral-colored Rivendell or the Ebisu Road push you back _into_ the Brooks B17 and you want to stay planted, settled, in the hammock. Others, like the Sachs invite you to a groove that lets you find comfort in many, many spots, as if the _whole_ bike were as one with you and the fit. The Legend falls into this second category. I can plant myself but unlike the randonneurs that want to you to _stay_ in the saddle, the Legend wants you to take advantage of its multiple positions and dynamics. The bike lives and moves with you and as you move the bike, so the bike makes you feel comfortable, at ease, and so allows you to take further advantage of its virtues. I found myself seated on some long climbs but then attacking and rising easily out of the saddle on others. I found myself deep in the drops for miles and then sitting up, hands off the bars, changing my jacket, eating a bar, and taking a virtual snooze while not losing a stroke. The Legend was happy holding a tight line, absorbing an importunate pavement, and responding when asked. When I wanted the bike to do nothing but go easy and straight without any effort, it did. When I wanted it to turn hard or accelerate at the crest of a climb out of the saddle, it did so perfectly.
I've not owned a Legend so gentle on my person or easy on my mind. It's truly a pleasure. Now, I love the ride of titanium bicycles. No doubt I prefer the ride of titanium to anything but the sweetest steel. The aesthetics of ti don't match lugged steel but that's a bit like comparing Boccherini to Shankar: different sorts of music, both virtuosi and wonderous but not one "over" the other. Serotta has delivered a Legend that works beautifully for me.
We rode down into Bristol, less than a mile from our house, avoiding the last big climb it takes to reach our spot (second highest in the county), and then turned north again back to Mendon. It's sort of downhill back to Mendon but more rolling, nothing flat for long. The wind changed from SSE to a strong westerly and kicked up something fierce for the last twenty minutes. I was tired and riding into the teeth of the wind but the bike was steady and happy, nothing could move it from its line, a good sign that the F3 fork is stellar and the frame is straight. We'd gone hard and sometimes fast. I was taking each sort of opportunity: long descents, long, steady climbs, sharp turns with gravel spots, rollers, and turns to make the bike respond, trying to do each differently. Again, my overall impression was that the Legend welcomed input, responded to however you _wanted_ to ride the bike, and so behaved perfectly under the exact circumstances to which you put it. It is a lively, active bike but not one that tells you how to ride it or invites you to pay attention or suffer the consequences. The ride was compliant and soft but never did it rub, skip, or fail to please. But most of all, the ride was fun and easy to love: ride the bike hard, the bike loves you back. Go so far as to ignore the bike and still the bike loves you back.
When I think of my Keepers, I think of bikes that never fail to please no matter how I feel. Some of these tell you what to expect as soon as you get on them. Others invite you to create the experience. The Legend does the latter.
There are so many ways to love cycling but this Serotta is surely an unmistakeable choice that cannot fail to make you love it even more.
dbrk
p.s. Pictures of the bike in the Gallery