The Cannondale Crit Frame

I found it on eBay. A used Cannondale crit frame, red, 105 components. The seller was in Atlanta.

We went back and forth on the details the way you do with a stranger on the internet who has something you want. He was a careful guy, thorough in his description, clearly someone who had taken care of the bike. His one concern, the thing he kept coming back to, was whether I'd be able to reassemble it after shipping.

He wanted to take it apart to fit it in a reasonable box. He was worried I wouldn't know what to do with it on the other end.

I didn't say much. I had been taking bikes apart and putting them back together in different configurations since I was a teenager. I could have been a pit crew for the Little 500 with no hesitation. But I let him worry. It seemed to matter to him.

In his last email before shipping he asked what size shoe I wore.

Twelve, I told him.

I didn't think much of it.

What Was In The Box

The bike arrived. I opened the box and there, tucked alongside the frame, was a pair of Sidi cycling shoes. Size 12. His old pair, slipped in without ceremony, no note that I remember. Just: here, you'll need these.

The back of the shoe had SPD pedals. The cleats were the old Delta style, that plastic triangular piece that snapped in with a satisfying click. They got hard to find for a while, so I bought extras because they wear out. These days I just 3D print new ones when I need them.

Those shoes are still the only cycling shoes I have ever owned. They are in the basement right now, on the floor next to the Trek, socks still in them from the last ride three years ago.

The First Ride

I put the bike together. Did my ABC checks, Air, Brakes, Chain, the way you do when you know what you're doing. Took it out to the old country road we lived on without the shoes first, just to feel it.

It felt great. So I went back, put the shoes on, clipped in, and fell over.

Got up. Tried again. Fell over again.

So I bought a helmet.

The third time I clipped in I stayed upright and rode down the road and it felt like a time machine. After months on the China Bike it was like the difference between crawling on all fours and flying under your own power. I understood immediately why I had never been able to keep up with my son. It wasn't me. It was the bike.

Getting Fast Again

The first few rides were short. Two miles, maybe three. I remember breaking five miles with an average speed of about 8 mph and feeling like I had done something. In reality I was slow. In my own mind I was flying.

It didn't matter. I was back on a real bike and I remembered exactly what that felt like.

I rode that bike for years. Got divorced somewhere in there, sold the farmhouse, moved to a different town. The Cannondale came with me through all of it.

In the new town I discovered the Pumpkinvine Trail, a rails-to-trails project that turned an old train route from Goshen to Middlebury into 26.3 miles of riding. People called it a highway for the Amish, and they weren't wrong. I'll have more to say about the Pumpkinvine in another post. A lot more. I put somewhere between 3,000 and 4,000 miles on that trail.

The 105 components on the Cannondale were part of it. Smooth, precise, bulletproof. Every shift exactly where you expected it. I fell in love with 105 on that bike and I have never stopped loving them. When I eventually upgraded to the Trek Domane and chose Ultegra instead I thought I was moving up. I still think about that decision.

I rode a couple of crit races on the Cannondale. Did okay for my age group. Didn't win. Wasn't last. Had more fun than I expected racing again after all those years.

Then I started looking at adding to the stable. I liked the Cannondale so much I looked for another one. What I found was a cyclocross bike in black -- and that's another story.