The Radavist

Cruiser, Klunker, ATB.  These terms get thrown around a lot and yet they represent pretty much the same thing: a rigid mountain bike. For me, the granularity of these denotations is intriguing. In modern times, these words have people debating about the proper nomenclature for each of these bikes, and there are opinions on every side of this argument. For those curious, I understand that a Cruiser is a coaster-brake bike with no gears and no hand brakes. A Klunker is a rigid mountain bike with gears and hand brakes. An ATB is simply an “all-terrain-bicycle” and was historically used to refer to a mountain bike with flat bars. “ATB” was used to denote a new, increasingly popular form of cycling at the time: “off-road” riding. AKA, riding on dirt, not pavement. Since the genesis of the term “ATB”, it has been co-opted to mean drop bar bikes as well. Being the trend-setter he is, once Ultraromance dubbed these bikes “ATB,” everyone jumped on board.

Time is a flat circle, like a wheel, so what was once a pariah in the cycling industry is bound to become the savior at one point. That’s kind of how mountain biking started, right? A bunch of misfits took the hills of Marin and the mountains of Colorado and began riding inappropriate bikes inappropriately.

Then, thirty-odd years later, Grant Petersen of Bridgestone and Rivendell fame designed the Hunqapillar, a true-to-form Klunker. I first rode one back in 2014 and immediately was drawn to the bike’s capabilities and unique ride quality. Yet, for some dumb reason, I didn’t buy one and missed out on every opportunity to own a size 62cm until recently. So why did the guy with too many bikes buy a Hunq? Well, read on below to find out.

I met Andrew years ago at a fat bike event we hosted here in Johnstown, PA. Playing polo and ripping around the parking lot on the big bouncy bikes looked like something fun to him. Until that moment, Andrew had visited several shops locally and always got the glance; you know the look if you’re outside of the “normal” scope of a cyclist, whether that’s your size, appearance, or, hell, I’ve been in the industry for nearly 20 years and I still get the look. Those eyes and words can pierce through all the stoke you may have as a larger cyclist, and make you give up before you even get to start your love affair with bicycles.

Leave it to Rivendell to create a new genre of bike design that harkens back to a simpler time in cycling history, while also employing modern production methods and componentry. The Susie W. Longbolts/ Wolbis Slugstone and it’s heavier-duty cousin, the Gus Boots Willsen, are what Rivendell refers to as “hillibikes.” Their design is modern, but their overall concept is influenced by early mountain bikes ridden on Mt Tamalpais, north of San Fransisco, in the ’80s. And, by the way, their names are all anagrams of each other. Rivendell had a decked-out Wolbis at this year’s Philly Bike Expo where Jarrod Bunk caught up with them to photograph the build and learn more about these hillbikes from Rivendell’s Will Keating.

Somewhere along David‘s journey in 2019, where he spent weeks riding from New York through Pennsylvania and moving across the country from LA to Johnstown, something clicked and it was time to look for something a bit lighter to replace his long-loved Rocky Moutain Sherpa. That bike had seen a lot of miles over the years and the weight, well let’s just say it’s stout.

Send it Safely? What’s that? Nick lives in Albuquerque, where he’s got a good group of riding buddies that enjoy taking to the local trails on their singlespeeds. When he first moved to town, he was jarred by the lack of trail etiquette, mostly by cyclists. Mountain bikers would plow downhill, hardly even yielding for hikers or other riders. For those unaware, uphill traffic always has the right of way. That’s when Nick thought of the phrase “send it safely” and started making stickers.

It was through these stickers that I first got to know Nick. Well, as well as you can know someone on the internet. Admittedly, I haven’t been to ABQ once since moving here, as we’re trying to play it safe during the pandemic, so Nick and I had never met before the afternoon I shot his Rivendell Sam Hillborne…

When you become a parent you start to ask the really hard questions, like what kind of amazing bike am I going to build to haul my little kiddo around?  Ben was lucky enough to snag this Rivendell Rosco Bubbe from Alex at Yellow Haus Bicycles when he was clearing out some inventory.  This may look like your average Clem Smith, but nay, this is a Rosco Bubbe experiment. This frame was designed to have a longer top tube to accommodate kid carrier as we see here.  The longer space makes room for the carrier and the rider to fit in the space between the saddle and bars.  This bike is technically Chelsea, Ben’s wife’s rig but it luckily fits them both so they can both take Marcel out for a spin.

This is a story of how progressive values and a penchant for both unusual bikes and unusual beer can combine to create the ultimate rambling ride. Most bike designs fit into neat little categories, and while those neat little categories work for most people, there’s a wild world of flavour out there, if you’re willing to take a risk here or there.

Disclaimer: This happened before the Covid-19 outbreak

I am a team manager/photographer for Deluxe, a skateboard company out of SF. It’s always a trip to say it out loud or write it down on paper but I have my dream job. The posters and stickers that adorned my childhood bedroom walls came from the very place that I commute to every morning.

I’ve always jokingly called Rivendell Bicycles a Luddite cult of rim brakes lead by the charismatic Grant Peterson wielding his fistful of seatpost and wool undies. All kidding aside, I’d be honored to own a Rivendell, they are amazing and beautiful bikes made by great people, but as the first mechanic I worked under told me oh-so-many years ago, “Grant doesn’t sell his bikes to hipsters” as a response to my ogling of one of their bikes. So, I guess I’m outta luck. Anywho, when I pinged Al about his Sam Hillborne for some stories or insight into the build the first thing he said was, “The purple, white and black motif was inspired by the Heavens Gate cult of California when they left earth for the UFO behind the Hale-Bopp comet. That’s where the colorway came from.” Whelp there ya have it folks, a “bicycle cult” frame built around the color scheme of an actual cult, my low-hanging-fruit-esoteric-bike-nerd joke had come full circle.

“The kinda danger I’m into is riding tubes in the desert”

“Any bike can be a mountain bike if you ride it in the mountains”

These are just a few quotes pulled from the freshly shaven mouth of Ultra Romance, the cycling sensation, turned Rivendell sponsored rider and mobile dealer. Bené, as I like to call him, is wintering in Tucson where I was spending my New Years with friends. Turned out, there were a lot of out of towner cyclists around, so we organized a ride at the 50 Year trails. More on that later…