My mate Andy Booth recently sold his Klein Attitude Comp 2000, and I feel the time is right to salute man and rig.
The details are hazy, but as I remember Andy bought the Klein in 2000 with some insurance money. He’d had his previous bike stolen on York University campus, but that wasn’t the source of the windfall – something to do with a traffic accident, a sore neck (I’m feeling in the dark here)?
Anyway, he bought the Klein. Andy’s a tall chap with a penchant for brightly coloured bikes – hence the crane geometry and lurid paint job. Yet the Klein was lean and fast, and over time, as is to be expected, the frame was adorned with all manner of trick upgrades, including Hope hubs in gun-metal grey, and – the jewel in the crown – a Chris King headset.
The Chris King headset, in silver - still as smooth as the day it was fitted, etc. etc.
This bike experienced a golden age in the early noughties, accompanying us on some memorable rides with the University of York Cycle Club (UYCC) in Yorkshire, the Lake District, and beyond.
Still going strong: riding the Klein in Borrowdale, August 2005.
Crag-top stunts - Helvellyn?
Latterly though, the Klein fell from grace, and became rather a sad figure, its whale-like Serfas saddle in particular becoming the butt of many a trailside joke. In the end, the Klein was replaced by a younger, sleeker model, and its once glossy sheen became covered in the dust of neglect. That Andy eventually put it up for sale without even cleaning it was an indication of just how bad things had got.
On the Wednesday after the Maratona, Jonny and I rode around the whole of Lake Garda, where we were supposed to be having some R&R with our respective girlfriends (and Millsy).
Despite being told by a local rider at the hotel that the route was 90km, it was in fact 138km, i.e. as long as the Maratona. ‘We’ll see for you lunch’ became ‘See you for dinner’ as the planned 3-hour spin became a tough 4hr45 loop (albeit mostly flat) with 2hrs of time trial thrown in. Diving into the lake in full lycra back in Desenzano, after hammering it in the midday sun, was possibly the highlight of the trip.
Tunnels
I would warn anyone considering riding this loop to beware of the tunnels at the north end of the lake. At best, these are quite narrow but short, but others are much longer, and the worst has no lighting at all. Seriously, it was like riding into a black hole for 20 seconds, and that’s longer than it sounds when you literally can’t see anything. Take lights.
Ah. How many times do I have to ride in the cold, wet and grey before I get a day like this? Yesterday was a cheat-the-week classic: 3 hours, 45 miles or so, plenty of hills, bits of tempo. I was test-riding the new Easton EA90 SLXs (of which more later), it was warm enough for a single layer, traffic was sparse, my legs felt strong.
My girlfriend asked me, as I was pulling on my lycra after lunch:
Shouldn’t you be working?
My answer was yes, I probably should. However I have a real problem not riding when I’m inside and the sun starts shining. This may be the one factor that prevents me becoming the next Mark Zuckerberg: when he was coding, I was out riding.
Riding comes first. I realised this 45 minutes into the ride, as I broke my first sweat of the day, and heard my phone ringing from my jersey pocket. It was a call from a client. I knew who it was – I had even asked them to call that afternoon, before I decided to go riding. I listened to the call ring off, imagining the testy voicemail, the urgent deadline reminder. At the sound of the message alert I kicked up a gear, filled my chest with air, and rode on into the afternoon sunshine.
Cycling is higher up in my pyramid of needs than work. Naturally, I need some work to have money to buy a bike in the first place – but if you offered me 50% extra salary with no more riding, or even with only 1 ride permitted per fortnight, I’d turn you down flat. I need to ride. Riding bikes has been something fixed in me since I was a young boy. Cycling has been a hobby, then a pursuit, then an obsession. Sometimes it’s a yoke I feel compelled to put my shoulders into (training – it has to happen, lots of it).
Sometimes I wonder if I could ever sit inside on a sunny day with a bike waiting to be ridden, and just not ride. Currently it’s not possible.
Yesterday was my first ride out of the new decade. Following a period of 2 months out of the saddle (a trip to Nepal was partly to blame), which itself included a 2 week drinking marathon (the party season) and a 1 week eating marathon (the Mucklow family Christmas), it wasn’t surprising that my form stank.
My leg strength deserted me; my heart rate pootled along in zone 2; my blood sugar levels bonked as my stomach craved cake and turkey trimmings. Compare this graph from yesterday (peak HR 157):
Heart rate graph 2-1-10
with this one from 18 July last year (peak HR 177).
Heart rate graph 18-7-09
I remember this ride. I never blogged about it because I was just back from La Marmotte and I couldn’t be bothered. But it was the ride of the year. I was out with Millsy on a 4hr+ circuit from Sevenoaks (possibly the Hell of the Ashdown route). I was rested from my trip to France, but still held the form from months of training. I was hitting the hills hard, and just kept feeling stronger. Then came a truly epic half-hour stretch in the closing stages of the ride, on a gradual climb up to Sevenoaks Weald. My heart rate climbed from 160 into the 170s, and I recall looking down at my wrist to check the effort and seeing 177. There was an almost other-worldly absence of pressure.
But back to yesterday. In a nutshell, I followed Millsy all the way up to Woolmer Green, whereupon he binned it on the ice, and I followed his bloodied carcass all the way back to London. My flabby core is so out of shape that it’s all achey today, and I’m saddle-sore into the bargain.
The hour approaches for my house move from North to South London. As is the way with house-hunting and flat-hunting and home-buying, last minute glitches and complications make the whole thing a nail-biting experience. However, it will happen. At some point in January I will be hauling my kit from Hornsey Lane N6 to West Norwood – SE27.
One of the reasons I headed south was the proximity to hills. Much as I love being close to Hampstead Heath and training on Regent’s Park and Swain’s Lane, there’s no contest between the quality of riding around say, Stevenage, and the riding around Sevenoaks (comparable distances away from Archway and West Norwood respectively). I’m already planning 3-hour training loops from my door to Toy’s Hill, for example:
Not to mention quick spins down to Brighton, training at Crystal Palace and Richmond Park, and the odd razz around the track at Herne Hill. The reality of all this outweighs a good chunk of my anxieties about buying and owning a property.
Millsy and I had a good ride out from Denham today. The weather was overcast, and a bit chilly even in 3/4 fleece-lined bibs and Rapha long sleeve.
We did 67 miles – longer than the distance on Google maps owing to an early map SNAFU on my part – in 4hrs 15. I felt OK, but as the hours wore on I was treated to an extended viewing of Millsy’s ass as he showed some solid form on the flat. I still had the edge over Whiteleaf Hill though.
In response to my shout out for a midnight blue Kona Lava Dome, Chris from Aldershot got in touch to offer me first refusal (or swapsies) on his purple weapon.
Unfortunately, according to the hazy pics on Bikepedia, I reckon this is 2002 vintage, officially after Kona lost the plot with its frame designs. Let’s keep it old-skool, Chris. But good luck with off-loading the rig – and nice shed by the way!
For the last 5 or so years of living in London, I’ve got by on a motley crew of unreliable commute bikes, piecing together old broken frames with hand-me-down componentry and bottom-dollar bits. I’ve only ever ridden nice, smooth bikes on the weekend. No longer.
Anyhow, I’ve now ridden the bike home. First impressions:
it’s heavy (frankly)
pretty wishy-washy steering BUT
it’s sturdy
it’s fast
the brakes are solid
it fits
The steering issue is probably more to do with my having ridden a bike with bent forks for 18 months, and I’ll get used to it over time. I’ve now fitted mudguards, SPDs and light mounts – bring on the autumn!
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