Some of these are long writeups, each a little mini-story to itself, so I’ll keep the intro short. As I mentioned in last year’s entry in this series, after many years testing bikes and gear, I no longer do and honestly I’m OK with that. I ride my own stuff, exclusively. I tinker with it and ruminate on it and even obsess a little, but gone are the days when testing new things left me wanting a lighter X, more aero Y, or zeezier Z. Over the years, I have developed (ahem) strong opinions about the gear that works for me and those may jibe or not with yours. But the throughline to that perspective, and to each item on this page, is that I seek out gear that can help closely and deeply connect me with things like this sport that I’ve fallen in love with for more than 35 years now. Here are a few of my favorite things from 2024.
Handbuilt wheels
I am regularly reminded that my beloved Pegoretti Duende is increasingly out of date: its straight 1 1/8-inch steerer tube, external cable routing, rim brakes, and a max tire clearance of ~28 mm all make parts compatibility an increasing challenge. I’ve taken to choosing new parts with a strong preference for durability, so when it came time for a new wheelset, that goal – and past issues with a couple of carbon “system” wheels – made the choice clear: handbuilt with metal rims was the way to go.
I’m fortunate to have some master hoopsmiths nearby (Jim Potter at Vecchio’s as example 1A) but I’d always been interested in working with Mike Curiak and so I opted to have him build this pair. That experience underlined why working with a master of the craft is so valuable.
The parts – Easton R90 SL rims, an NOS set of Shimano Dura-Ace 9000 hubs, and DT spokes – were on paper a straightforward build: until Mike found one of the rims had a defect and at proper spoke tension could be round or true, but not both (a known but rare issue not specific to Easton, a brand which knows from aluminum).
A less-careful builder might have compromised build integrity to get a cosmetically correct but ultimately less-durable wheel out, but Mike waited for me to get him a replacement rim, and then unlaced and rebuilt the wheel. He also advised using DT’s thicker double-butted Competition spokes for the drive side on the rear wheel to ensure lateral stability given the shallow bracing angle, at the cost of about 20 grams.
These wheels won’t top the charts for weight or aerodynamics. But over hundreds of miles so far, they’ve proved something I’ve long felt to be true: wheel integrity is a massive part of both handling and ride quality. With 28 spokes (2x lacing) these wheels don’t rely on guitar-string tensions to stay true. They soak up cracks and bumps on tarmac or even dirt and have the perfect balance of lateral stiffness to complement a steel frame, which makes them ace at fast, technical descents and cornering. The low profile doesn’t buffet in crosswinds, and the metal brake surface offers a sharp initial braking bite and smooth modulation. They’re the furthest thing from flashy, but they’re durable, dependable, easy to service, and ride fantastically, and that’s as much or more a testament to Mike’s skill and care as to the components. I don’t have anything specific against system wheels, but for my next set of wheels, I’m going handbuilt again.
Price: varies by builder; I paid $347 for labor, spokes and nipples, and return shipping.
Trek Carback radar
I’d never used a radar until this year. But with my hearing loss, the technology increasingly appealed to me and when James gave me a Trek Carback I was interested to play around with it. I’ve seen mixed reviews of the unit itself and have some of my own criticisms around some rare “false negative” situations and a tendency for the unit to lose Bluetooth connection to my computer for 10-30 seconds at least once a ride. But we’ll cover those in an upcoming review of radars. Generally, I’m pretty happy with it, and that has as much to do with the broad category of radar as with the specifics of the Carback itself.
While the technology that powers my hearing is marvelous, one issue no company in the hearing device space has really solved is microphones and wind noise. I hear OK on the bike, but there are quirks to bionic hearing and it’s sometimes hard to trust that I’ll always hear cars. Thus: the Carback. Because it’s A) technology and B) has a couple of known quirks, I never, ever, ever rely on it for making decisions on turns and lane positioning. Ever. But in the “Swiss cheese” security analogy, the combination of my restored hearing, the radar, and a well-developed habit of regularly looking back to check my six is a reasonably robust strategy for knowing what’s around me. Riding with a radar all summer has made me a convinced convert: whether a Carback or Garmin Varia or whatever, except for mountain biking, I’ll likely never ride without one again.
Price: US$200
Escali Arti digital scale
Very few are the things that can utterly transform some aspect of your life. Fewer still are the ones that do it for less than $40. But that’s how I feel about my Escali kitchen scale. I first bought a digital scale years ago to weigh parts for gear testing. But it was my relatively recent habit of baking that brought the tech into my kitchen. If you bake, there is no substitute for measuring ingredients by weight. As for how this relates to cycling, that’s simple: bicycles and baking are nature’s most perfect symbiosis.
A quality scale offers not just accurate and precise measurement, but the opportunity to experiment: changing ratios of different flours in a rustic Italian loaf, or playing with dough hydration levels to adjust for Colorado’s dry air and altitude, for instance. It’s how I was able to trust that a substance that looked like pancake batter was indeed properly proportioned and would, in time and with enough coil folds, turn into a passable pan de cristal. Escali makes several scales; I like the Arti because it has fast, accurate controls and the features you need, the one-piece glass top is easy to clean, and it comes in fun colors like this blue. I get King Arthur Baking’s print catalogs, which are chock full of gadgets that, quite honestly, you probably don’t need (the Ankarsrum Assistent stand mixer is a possible exception but at $750 I’ll just keep developing my forearm strength for now, thanks). But a scale? It’s the one thing that’ll transform your baking from erratic to easy.
Price: US$36
Wagner Summit 106 skis
Swish, creak. Swish, creak. Sigh, swish, creak. That was me two seasons ago on the skin track at my local ski hill: shuffling uphill with gear that was old enough to legally drink, and clearly starting to fail. I could no longer reliably find parts for the ancient G3 Targa telemark bindings, and my other skis – Volkl Gotamas mounted with Terminator-esque machined aluminum Bishop plate bindings – are such ponderous, crud-busting missiles I’ve nicknamed them Death From Above. Definitely not for the skin track. It was (sigh) time for new skis.
I am my father’s son: I “get the good out of stuff.” But when I buy replacements for important items, I tend to go big. That drew me to Telluride, Colorado-based Wagner, a renowned maker of custom skis. As with bicycles, I do not need custom skis. Fortunately, like some custom bike builders, Wagner offers a line of semi-custom “Factory” skis, where for about 25% less than custom, you can pick among five shapes in various lengths, select from three flex patterns, and add a top sheet graphic from more than 40 styles (there are upgrade options).
I picked the Summit 106, a do-it-all plank that features much of the tech found in Wagner’s custom skis: an aspen-wood core with carbon fiber torsion box for edge hold without added weight, extra-thick bases, and burly, oversized hardened steel edges. For bindings, I went with Inwild’s innovative Meidjo, a step-in NTN setup with a DIN-compliant adjustable release that’s rare in telemark bindings. Boots? So glad you asked: Scarpa’s TX Pro, naturally purchased just a year before they got their first major redesign in a decade. C’est la vie. Altogether, the Wagner/Meidjo combo is five pounds (five! pounds!!) lighter than the Volkl/Bishop setup. What’s more, it’s equally adept at uphilling and lift-served turns on everything from hardpack to mashed-potato chop to blower pow.
Oh, almost forgot: the top sheet graphic. I chose a black-and-white forest motif called Solace. I don’t race bikes anymore or even formally train. Riding, for me, is primarily for physical and mental health. But I don’t ride the trainer, and so in the dark and cold months of winter, I rely on skiing to help meet those needs. With this winter looking bleaker than perhaps any in my lifetime, that’s going to be essential. In the soft swirl of snow over the skin track; in the quiet stillness of the glades, broken only by my breath and heartbeat; and in the sleepy, sodium-yellow dawn light shattering through crystal shards of spindrift, I find a peace I encounter few other places. Buy experiences, not stuff, goes the saying. But for riders and skiers, stuff can literally be a vehicle to experiences. I don’t intend to buy new skis for a long time. But I’m looking forward to another season of finding solace in the woods.
Price: US$1,550
Giro Aries Spherical helmet
James picked the Aries last year, but my path to it was a bit different. When I got my first cochlear implant, I asked a bunch of questions of my surgical team about how the headpiece might work with bike and ski helmets and the response was basically the shrug emoji. I ended up Dremeling a pocket in the foam, which worked decently. Then last spring I got my second-side surgery, and no amount of drilling out foam would make the helmet fit. So, one afternoon, I went to two local shops with a good selection of helmets, explained the situation, and just started trying stuff on.
Some models and even entire brands (sorry POC) were no-gos, pressing uncomfortably on the headpiece. But I had a hunch Giro’s Spherical helmets might be different. They move the MIPS liner from inside the helmet to between two concentric layers of foam, freeing up valuable space inside. And I found that by sizing up to a large, there was enough of a natural pocket for the helmet to sit lightly atop the headpiece, no drilling needed. Some $550 later I had a Manifest and an Aries. I like the Aries best. Bumping up a size means I’m really pushing the limits of the retention systems but the Aries seems to fit just a bit more snugly and, because it’s lighter, moves around a bit less. But I still like the extra coverage of the Manifest for trail riding.
And I’m encouraged by both helmets’ performance in the Virginia Tech test protocol: the Manifest gets a five-star rating, while the Aries is currently the best-scoring helmet in the entire database. A good helmet has always been important to me. It is even moreso now, because the implant portion of the CI – which would require surgery to replace if damaged – must be protected from serious impacts. You know what’s also important? A good local shop. Were University Bikes and Boulder Cycle Sport not nearby, I’d likely have had to make many trips to find enough brands and models to try, or dealt with the hassle of buying online and returning piles of lids.
Price: $300
Reviving an old hardtail
Modern mountain bikes are made for modern trails: fast, flowy, boosty and often with man-made technical elements. So what happens when you ride a lot of weird, old singletrack? Ancient social trails in dense forests, where your downhill speed is sometimes no faster than climbing, 800 mm handlebars will get you stuck like a moose in a dry cleaner, and the berms are made of pine needles? For my friend Dave, the answer was getting back on a hardtail, with a tighter wheelbase and more nimble handling far better suited to that terrain. He loves it. I am now hardtail-curious again, but rather than drop a bunch of cash on what is essentially an experiment, I wanted to tiptoe into things.
So I took a page from Iain Treloar’s book and riffed on it: a nearly 25-year-old Jamis Dragon 853 formerly used as a singlespeed, with a probably 15-year-old Rock Shox suspension fork, got a new 11-speed Shimano XT drivetrain and a second life as a trail bike. Despite the age gap between frame and parts, the drivetrain installed and runs flawlessly – thanks in part to the foresight of Mavic and Shimano in making their FTS and HG freehub designs, respectively, workable with 8- to 11-speed cassettes. For a whopping $250 in drivetrain parts (I had existing crankarms to keep the original chainline), I get to experiment with whether a hardtail really is a good idea, or only seems like it.
What’s the initial verdict? Ye gods, the bike industry should really think about this newfangled rigid rear triangle thing! Yes, the Jamis rolls on 26-inch wheels with quick-release axles, fitting a dropper post is tricky, and the geometry’s a little wonky by modern standards: short front center and reach, steep head angle, feels a bit tippy (how did we ever think this was ideal handling?!). But once I get past the tyranny of small details that we all tend to obsess over, it’s pretty fun for hooning around closer-to-home trails like North Sky, in the photo, where full suspension is sofa-like overbiking. (It’s also been fun on some of the denser stuff I ride, although more data may have to wait for spring when the snow melts.)
Why not just get a modern hardtail? Some of my caution is financial. I don’t have thousands to spend on new bikes as experiments. and before I take that kind of plunge I need to suss out whether I think it’s a good fit for my riding. But it’s also philosophical. Like Iain, I’ve a soft spot for older bikes, and I’m struck by how fast industry obsolescence is accelerating; my barely five-year-old Ibis Ripley (V4) has a 52 mm chainline where modern trail bikes are 55 mm. It is also pre-UDH, and so not compatible with any of SRAM’s new Transmission drivetrains; should I lay in a stock of GX Eagle derailleurs, I wonder? Meanwhile, my 34-year-old Bridgestone MB-1 is well into its third incarnation (as a commuter) and shows no signs of ever wearing out. Against the Bridgestone or Jamis, the premature aging of my Ripley seems wasteful, even a little obscene.
Alas, the Jamis is likely not a permanent solution to my hardtail quest. The frame itself will last forever but the fork is already a little creaky and old enough that I don’t know that it can be serviced, and replacements with a straight 1 1/8-inch steerer are difficult to find. But so far, the experiment suggests a switch is possible, to something with modern geometry and UDH, but likely steel, and with external cable routing. Unless and until that happens, the Jamis itself is going to make for some fun days out on a bike.
Price: varies
Honorable mentions:
Giro thermal knee warmers – the Giordanas finally wore out, getting that white-fuzz look on the fabric face that happens just before it disintegrates. Checklist for replacements: long enough to cover the entire thigh (looking at you, Castelli Nanoflex). Thermal, aka “Super Roubaix”-weight fabric because they’re knee warmers, not knee lingerie (looking at you, Velocio). Small logos (looking at you now, Giordana). The Giros tick the boxes.
Silca Tattico minipump – five years now. Never left me walking home or calling for a ride. Compact. Easy to use. Pleasing heft and metal construction makes it deceptively effective in any unpleasant encounters.
Ibex Bicicleta winter cap – sadly no longer made. I have at least one freakout a year that I’ve thoughtlessly misplaced it. I’ll find a good replacement one day, no doubt. But this one is light and warm and soft wool that blocks wind and chill but breathes, just-right earflaps, the hint of a brim, fits nicely under a helmet. It’s perfect; would that it could last forever.
This is the fifth installment in our annual “Favourite Things” series even if I spell it without the “U.” We’ll be rolling these out into December. You can read other entries in this series here, and please share your thoughts in the comments.
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