Welcome to the 10th edition of Group Ride. So far, this newsletter has been a fun little experiment that seems to be achieving the desired result. I’m learning more about my favorite outdoor activity and you're getting my favorite nuggets right in your inbox.
Feedback thus far has been overwhelmingly positive. Looking to the future, here’s some critical acclaim I’m expecting:
“Beautifully written. Good for the country, good for humanity.” – Barack
“Because of this newsletter, my heart will go on.” – Celine
“Cycling content at its best. A real slam-dunk.” – LeBron
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Warm Up
Paramount's Pedigree
Photo credit: Justin Prugh
Last week’s trip to Traverse City was consistent with all previous trips, which is to say it was exquisite. Despite a few days limited by thunder showers and oppressive humidity, I got out on my father-in-law’s Schwinn Paramount Series 9c PDG (pictured above) for some spectacular rides.
This road bike has an interesting backstory. The Schwinn Bicycle Company was founded by German-born mechanical engineer Ignaz Schwinn (1860–1948) in Chicago in 1895. Schwinn became the dominant manufacturer of American bicycles through most of the 20th century. In the late 1980s, Paramount Design Group (PDG) grew as a sub-brand of Schwinn focused on parts, accessories, and clothing. Schwinn successfully expanded PDG, applying the recognized Paramount name to high-end niche bikes, a growing product category at the time.
By then, Schwinn had started to lose its footing as an industry leader, and the writing was on the walls. It needed to do something drastic to save its own hide. One such effort was a partnership with Kestral, which helped to manufacture the Series 9c carbon road bike. Fewer than 1,000 were produced. Still, less than a century after its founding, in 1992, Schwinn declared bankruptcy.
Nearly 30 years after my father-in-law's bike rolled off the assembly line, it continues to ride exceedingly well. The featherweight frame, 25mm tires, and high-end drivetrain add up to a package that gobbles up Michigan roads like tart cherry pie. Twice, I achieved an average speed 3 mph faster than on my typical road outing in San Diego. Granted, Michigan offers flatter terrain than I typically ride in SD as well as smoother pavement, windless conditions, and so forth. Nevertheless, I still chalk it up to just being a great bike.
Paramount calls the paint job on this particular model “Blue Flash”. With a hat tip to John Mayer, I call it “The Black One.” Whatever you call it, it’s a “vintage” bike that wears its age well, and I look forward to riding it each year.
Crank It
Just for Show
Photo credit: Justin Prugh
As a direct-to-consumer company, Canyon doesn’t really do the whole “buy a bike in a store” thing. Instead, they sell their bikes online and ship them directly to the residences of their customers. As a result, entering their only brick-and-mortar showroom in the U.S. feels inherently special. Like maybe you’ve discovered a physical backdoor to the internet, and everything you see before you is made of ones and zeros.
I'd intended to check out Canyon's Carlsbad-based showroom years ago, but the pandemic forced them to close up for well over a year. They reopened last weekend with a party of the thoroughly sanitized, socially distanced variety.
Canyon keeps about 20 bikes on display in its showroom, more or less one of each model they sell, plus a couple gorgeous trophy bikes ridden by Valverde and other pros on the Canyon roster. The bikes are distributed comfortably around the store, inviting visitors to mosey among them as if in a museum. The space itself is dark, a sharp contrast to the radiance of the bikes which are brightly illuminated from top and bottom in a heavenly glow. I looked for fog machines, but didn’t see any.
One does not just pick up a bike in the showroom and ride it, as one might do in a typical bike shop. These are look-but-don’t-touch bikes. Demo bikes can be ridden upon request.
My brother-in-law came with me and he happens to be in the market for a new bike. He test-rode a gravel bike, the Grail CF SL, and loved it. I did not ride it, and in spite of that, I now want one too. It’s a great-looking, trim, capable set of wheels.
The only problem is we can’t buy one. Odds are, neither can you. Like so many other bike shops and manufacturers, Canyon’s inventory has been cleaned out, save for a handful of XXL bikes. Good news for NBA athletes looking for a lower-impact sport, but disappointing for the rest of us.
As a result, my brother-in-law and I are actually considering a visit to Canyon HQ in Koblenz, Germany, as a side trip while I’m in Switzerland. It’s a long way to go for a bike, but then again, it’s Europe, so there’s surely a lot to see in between. And if you come home with your two-wheeled dream machine, it seems worthwhile.
Coffee Stop
L'eggo My Stroopwafel
Photo credit: Grooveland Design
Move over, Eggo. Stroopwafel are the much more cycling-friendly version of the store-bought or homemade waffles you already love, but with no mess and the added convenience of fitting easily into your jersey pocket.
The ones I tried from GU last week are the best I’ve had outside of Amsterdam. They’re sweet, with a good bit of salt, wonderfully textured, and available in a variety of flavors that read like my six-year-old niece's wish list: s’mores, salted caramel, salted chocolate, coconut, wild berry, and caramel coffee (my fave).
GU recommends eating them warmed up over a hot cup of coffee or tea, but for me, body heat and summer sunshine work just fine.
Jaunt Back
Li-bib-erated
Photo credit: Sebastian Graser
Cycling bibs play a more important role than any other apparel item while you ride. Not only do they bear the brunt of your weight, they also take a lot of punishment in the form of sweat, sunscreen, heat, friction, and trips through the washing machine. They need to be made well and fit well. If you don’t pay good money for a bib, your undercarriage will.
Consequently, when you shop for a cycling bib, the thinking goes that you should bring your friend Ben Franklin. Entry-level bibs start around $100. Two hundo gets you into premium territory. Incredibly, dropping well over $300 isn’t out of the question. With this in mind, it’s no wonder cycling is perceived by many as cost-prohibitive.
Fortunately, the folks over at The Black Bibs are making cycling more accessible to everyday riders. In their words, “We believe that no one should be kept from enjoying the sport that we love because of financial barriers.” Their mid-level bib is only $65, and I have it on good authority from a very trusted source (who I happen to be married to) that they’re as good as more expensive options.
I expect my next pair of black bibs will be the Ultimates – still a steal at $80 – and though they aren’t as eye-catching as others, “no labels, no B.S.” is a style that never goes out of fashion.
Cool Down
Grind Gossip
Photo credit: Coen van de Broek
If Group Ride is truly a newsletter for the social cyclist, then it's my duty to provide some kindling to get the conversation going. Here are a few things I’ve overheard on my rides recently:
Music and/or podcasts while riding – speakers, headphones, or nothing at all?
I leave next Wednesday for Switzerland. In addition to my lap around Lac Leman, I will attempt to eat my bodyweight in chocolate log at least another hundred miles in the saddle during my visit. Feel free to follow along on Strava.
I'll catch up with you on the next Group Ride, currently targeted for September 3.
See something you think should be featured in Group Ride? Send it along.
Group Ride is a newsletter for the social cyclist. I curate content from bike manufacturers, shops and media sources to bring you information and inspiration to ride more confidently and comfortably.
