For many years in America, the brand “Schwinn” was synonymous with the bicycle:
However, since the 1980s, the big domestic names have been Specialized, Cannondale, and Trek.
Of those, Trek has always been the nerdiest–not because of their offerings, but because of their name. See, the name “Specialized” is hyper-focussed and they have that angry “S” logo:
As for Cannondale, while the “-dale” part is kinda wimpy-sounding, the CANNON on that big fat downtube makes you think of cannons:
But the word “Trek” just makes you think of trekking, which then makes you think of hiking, which in turn makes you think of stuff like Tevas and trail mix and weird hats that cover your neck and people who carry large heavy sticks for no reason:
Over the years Trek tried to overcome this by doing deals with Gary Fisher and Gary Klein and using their names on bikes instead, but this only made things worse, because the only thing less cool than the name Trek is the name Gary, and while Trek may sound all nature-nerdy, Fisher and Klein just sounds like the name of a law firm.
[Injured? Call the Law Firm of Fisher and Klein!]
So in the late 1990s, Trek decided to stop fighting against their nerdy image and instead decided to capture 100% of the dorky cycling market. How would they do this? By creating a rideable Star Trek symbol:
[“Uh, it’s not the ‘Star Trek logo,’ it’s the emblem of Starfleet.”–A Giant Dork, probably]
Early attempts were unsuccessful:
But in 1998 engineers finally hit upon the brilliant idea of putting the logo on its side:
And the Y-Foil was born:
As you know, I am currently in possession of not just any Y-Foil, but George Plimpton’s Y-Foil:
On one hand, I appreciate the way Trek explored the potential of carbon fiber by breaking with tradition and trying something new, but on the other hand the frame kind of makes it look less like a bike and more like a bunch of parts that got stuck in a matrix of hardening slime:
So in order to somewhat mitigate its mucus-like appearance, I recently changed the Tri Spokes for the Ralph wheels that came with the LeMond (another Trek, come to think of it):
It’s still exuberantly a Y-Foil, but at least the fact that the wheels don’t make a helicopter sound as they beat the air makes me feel more like I’m riding a normal bike. Plus, with the Ralphs I don’t have to worry about accessing the valve if I get a flat:
Note how it sits beatifically in its crabon recess like a Virgin Mary lawn statue:
Oh, sure, Paul included the adapter, but depending on where I’m riding I’m liable to get arrested for criminal use of drug paraphernalia:
So yes, apart from the fact you can only carry one small water bottle (which if I’m to be honest is usually all I carry anyway) the Y-Foil very much offers a premium turn-of-the-century cycling experience:
In Paul’s description of the bike he says the Zero Gravity brakes don’t work well, but I haven’t found that to be the case at all:
Then again after all the classic bikes he’s sent me to ride over the years my expectations in the stopping department are admittedly quite low.
But yes, between the subtle suspension effect of the frame and the 7700 components, there’s not much to dislike…
…apart from the polarizing appearance, that is. But even that is highly subjective, and maybe instead of fighting it the answer is to lean into it:
You’ve got to give Trek credit for boldly going where no bike company had gone before, even if you’re kind of relieved they haven’t been back since.