Yesterday I mentioned building illegal mountain bike trails, but you know what’s really dumb?
Putting graffiti on a rock:
Seriously, even for a teenager that’s stupid.
Speaking of being stupid, yesterday’s ride reminded me that I shouldn’t turn the Farbman into a Roadini because…I already have a Roadini:
And a fine bicycle it is, too:
So fine I suppose I want to impose it on my other bicycles instead of letting them be themselves, like some overbearing parent who wants the younger son to play football just like his varsity quarterback older brother even though he hates sports.
[“Just let me be a cyclocross bike with a single-ring drivetrain. GOD I HATE YOU!!!”]
The Roadini also reminds me of a bicycle I’ve long admired, that being a Hampsten Strada Bianca:
I mean yes, they’re pretty different bikes, but not that different, and I’d argue that as fattish-tired road bikes that side-step the whole “gravel” thing they share the same spirit–and as I’ve mentioned before, Hampsten was doing the big tire thing long before it was cool:
They were so early they had to go to Rivendell to get their tires!
They were also early adopters of this very blog, which I started in June 2007. I was quite surprised when people started reading it, and I was even more surprised when I started getting emails from cycling world luminaries, among the first of whom was Steve Hampsten, who dropped me a line in August of that year. Andy Hampsten also gave me a huge can of olive oil once:
[Five (5) liters, or one (1) Cipollini, of olive oil. And yes, I used to have my own coffee.]
Not only that, but he also had me over for dinner when I was in Boulder for a BRA, which was shockingly gracious of him, and while my memory is hazy I’m pretty sure this is him on the BRA ride we did while I was there:
Anyway, I mention all of this partly because the Roadini makes me think of a Hampsten, but also because someone mentioned this in the comments the other day:
I don’t know if this means Hampsten Cycles is no more, or if it just means they’re relocating or something, but either way tempus certainly does fugit. It also amazes me how many incredible contacts I’ve made over the years and how little I have to show for it. Anyone with even the tiniest amount of ambition could easily have started dozens of cycling companies had they found themselves in my enviable position. (I mean my enviable position back then. Nobody envies me now.) Just look at that Ultraromance guy: a bike company, a tire company, a whole line of expensive hobo bindles… Meanwhile, I’ve squandered opportunities like a Fred squanders C02 cartridges because he doesn’t know he’s supposed to pull whatever caused the flat out of the tire.
But maybe it’s not too late. Maybe I should buy the Hampsten Cycles inventory and finally start a bike company that reflects my values:
I told the AI to create “The first bicycle model from Bike Snob NYC’s new bike company” and it’s…not bad? Extraordinarily boring, certainly, but not bad. Sure, I’d at least have started out with a geared bike, and if I were to offer a singlespeed road bike I’d put proper brake levers on there. But the truth is if I’d have come out with that bike in 2008 I’d have sold a crapload of them, and as much as I hate to admit it the only truly alarming thing about this image is I appear to be prototyping some sort of ultra-wide rim caliper rim brake:
There’s probably some alternate dimension in which I started a successful bike company, but ultimately tanked it by trying to market a fat bike with caliper brakes.
But when it comes to “falling off” as they say, I’ve got nothing on Campagnolo:
Yes, like body hair on women, Campagnolo has become increasingly difficult to find in France in the modern era:
The rituals of the Tour de France can seem immutable: Every morning during the three-week race, the leaders’ names echo from public-address speakers, technicians run gloved hands over chains, sprockets and derailleurs, and riders clip into their pedals at the starting line. To spectators pressed against the barriers, the bikes look almost identical — carbon frames, aerodynamic wheels and microcomputers blinking on handlebars.
But a less visible detail attests to a dramatic shift in the fortunes of one of cycling’s most hallowed names. Of the 23 teams in this year’s race, only one is using components from Campagnolo Srl, the legendary Italian supplier that once dominated the business. The same was true last year, and in 2024 none did. But as recently as 2021, Campagnolo supplied four tour squads, or almost a fifth of the riders. In the 1970s and ’80s, the Italian brand equipped about 80% of the peloton.
I think we all know the Litany of Campagnolo’s Failures by now, but here it is again:
Campagnolo yielded ground through a series of small, costly missteps. It eliminated its signature thumb shifter, only to bring it back when riders revolted. It lacks significant ties with mass-market bike manufacturers. It jumped into mountain bikes early but let the effort wither just as the category exploded. And it was late — four years behind Shimano — to offer disc brakes with their superior stopping power. While Campy kept the romance, Shimano and SRAM built 21st century businesses.
Campagnolo retains a devoted following among riders who prize its premium finish and Italian design heritage, but it’s struggled to retain its foothold at the top of the sport. Pro teams today serve as rolling laboratories as well as symbols of relevance; when a component maker disappears from the racing circuit, mechanics become less familiar with its products. Young riders see fewer heroes using the brand, and bike makers have less incentive to design around it.
And here are the numbers to drive it all home:
Its sales last year came in below €80 million, about 5% of Shimano’s bike-component revenue and a 10th of what analysts say privately held SRAM generates.
Campagnolo’s mistakes notwithstanding, I suspect what really did them in was their insistence on using their own hub spline, as a reader astutely noted at some point. Remember when SRAM came out and everyone using Shimano could try it out without having to get new wheels? Meanwhile, for all the cable anchoring tricks and Shimergo workarounds, Campagnolo and Shimano wheels were mutually exclusive until everyone went to 11-speed and you could switch wheels with abandon (and I believe Campagnolo even adopted Shimano’s brake pad insert shape), but by then it was too late.
Of course, there is still one thing Campagnolo can still do to save itself, and that’s stop chasing those tacky companies with their radio-controlled plastic parts, pare down their operations, and and just make something classy like this until the end of time:
They’ll never do it, but at least a small and loyal following is better than courting millions of fickle dilettantes.
Or at least that’s what I tell myself.