“E=MC2, I thought of that while riding a bicycle” -Albert Einstein. You know, I’m thinking more people should ride a bike, especially bicycle industry-type people. Welcome to this year’s edition of the Eurobike Exposition, in Cologne, Germany. Leave your intelligence checked at the door, ‘cause “Cyclo-babel” is only spoken within...
So if steel is real, what the heck is Dogma? Pinarello’s new frame set is fabricated from what? Magnesium. But isn’t that the metal they make fireworks out of? Correct. And doesn’t it ignite like a match head when struck on a rough surface? Right again. All I can say is twilight crit crashes are going to be a real treat this year.
Specialized unveiled their S-works Roubaix technology, claiming a cure for cycling fatigue. Pardon me, but if your carbon-fibre frame is too stiff, poking elastomer gummy bears in your fork blades and seat post, sure doesn’t sound like you know how to work with carbon-fibre to me. Even wackier, their Body Geometry saddle proclaims to cure erectile disfunction. Eew!
And those fishy anglers also unveiled a new off road, strictly downhill, compressed air shifting system called “Airlines”. So let me get this right... I’m suppose to go blasting down a rock strewn mountain with a high pressure, compressed air cylinder tucked between my legs? Boy, and I thought their Octalink bottom bracket failures had it out for my family plans!
Fortunately I found Mimi at the MAVIC booth, and we were able to slip out the back and seek the mind-melding powers of “the green fairies”, from a bottle of Absinthe at a nearby speakeasy. We both simultaneously came to the conclusion that hallucinogenic hard liquor was the only real anecdote to bike marketing jive, as such elixirs render Cyclo-babel not so much ludicrous, as completely and utterly unrepeatable.
I tried to ask Mimi about MAVIC’s 2nd generation electronic, “Mektronic” shifting system, but that word just wasn’t conducive to speech at the particular time. She tried to talk to me about my travels on indigenous 3-speeds, but ended up giggling so much, we never got any headway beyond my moniker of Global Freddie. And so the conversation pleasantly degenerated into an evening of sign language, punctuated by frequent outbursts of snickering, and culminating in the back seat of a taxi, where from the rear view mirror, we became hysterical to find that we had somehow, through the course of the evening, both acquired Einstein hairdos.
So until next month, keep your diatribe clear headed, and try to remember to carry a comb -Euro Freddie.