One upon a time, before the cycling industry invented the gravel bike, there used to be a type of bicycle called a “cyclocross bike:”
[RIP Surly Crosscheck: 1999-2023]
The cyclocross bike was basically a road racing bike that was optimized for something called “cyclocross racing,” one of the most graceful disciplines in all of cycledom:
Cyclocross bikes had the virtues of a road racing bike–light weight, snappy handling–while also being able to accept a wider, knobby tire. However, cyclocross was something of a niche sport–especially here in West Greenland were it was a niche sport within a niche sport–so for a long time if you wanted one you had to get it from Europe, or maybe have someone build you one:
[Via Classic Cycle]
This began to change in the late 1990s, when cyclocross started becoming more popular among amateur bike racers, and more and more bike companies began to offer stock cyclocross bikes. At the same time, plenty of people wanted to enjoy the versatility of the cyclocross bike but weren’t necessarily going to race cyclocross on them. So these stock bikes often included additional features such as mounts for fenders and racks. [See: Surly Crosscheck, above.]
As a participant in this turn-of-the-century cyclocross boom I contributed nothing to the sport, apart from getting in the way of better riders when they inevitably lapped me, and causing popular races to fill up more quickly. However, not only did playing bike racer make me feel special, but I also benefitted enormously from this bumper crop of versatile and relatively inexpensive off-the-shelf cyclocross bikes. When the fall came I’d switch from the road racing bike to the cyclocross bike and do my seven or eight races:
Then I’d put on fenders and slick tires and keep riding it all though the winter and early spring:
At a time when my austere bike holdings typically amounted to a road bike, a mountain bike, and a cyclocross bike, as the bike I rode for at least half the year my cyclocross bike was perhaps the most important one. I even took the above bike on my first book tour:
[Whither relevance?]
But then I stopped racing cyclocross and racing altogether, and acquired all sorts of other bikes, like cargo bikes, and Dutch bikes, and step-throughs, and a rotating cast of vintage test-cycles courtesy to Classic Cycle, and eventually I found myself without a cyclocross bike at all.
Then came the Roadini:
I’ve read various forum posters attempt to characterize the Roadini in various ways, but what I thought immediately when I got on it for the first time was, “This feels like a cyclocross bike!” (Or at least my old cyclocross bikes, which certainly weren’t purebreds.) I’m not one to pore over geometry charts or pretend to understand them, but glancing at the Roadini numbers they seem to bear this impression out, as the angles seem to be basically what I recall you used to find on a mainstream cyclocross bike. (That is to say a degree or so more relaxed than a road bike, with longer chainstays.) Basically, my cyclocross bikes used to feel like my road bikes, only more stable and more versatile, and that’s what the Roadini feels like too.
Really, the biggest difference between the Roadini and my cyclocross bikes of yore (apart from the lugs and the fancy paint) is that the Roadini uses sidepulls instead of cantilever brakes–and yet still accepts a wider tire than any of my cyclocross bikes would have, which is kind of ironic:
Speaking of tires, I’ve been using 43mm Paranacer Garvel Kigns since I happened to have them on hand when I first put the bike together. In general I’ve been pleased with them, though they are just a bit much for the road, and with all the snow and ice melting and turning the trails into mud I think it’ll probably be sticking to said road for the foreseeable future. So today I tried some “new” tires:
These:
Sorry, here you go:
In fact, they’re not new at all–I’ve had them for like eight years, but have never used them for long enough to wear them out. They were at the outer limit of what the Milwaukee would accept (that’s the bike I originally bought them for), but at 35mm they’re about as skinny as Rivendell suggests you go on the Roadini:
So far I agree with that assessment, because when I tried 32s they felt just a little bit too…little:
But I didn’t feel that way about the 35s, and in fact they felt pretty close to being just right.
Of course, I’m reluctant to trust my own impressions, because the difference between 32s and 35s is pretty small, especially when you consider those numbers are theoretical and I never actually measured the difference. I mean I guess they look wider than those 32mm Paselas:
But it’s not exactly a massive difference:
Either way the “new” tires have put a little more pep in the Roadini’s step (on the road at least) whilst still feeling sufficiently robust, though I do suspect that the perfect tire for the bike is something with just a bit more volume and little to no tread, like this:
I wholeheartedly endorse this note regarding “suppleness,” by the way:
Look, I tried the whole Rene Herse thing and I can see why people like them, but when I wasn’t struggling to get them seated or fixing flats caused by tiny pieces of glass I felt like I was walking outside wearing only sweatsocks with no shoes:
Though I’m the first to admit I probably just lack the requisite sophistication.