The Radavist

While most review bikes go back into a company’s demo fleet pretty quickly, the Fairlight Secan that Morgan Taylor reviewed back in 2022 has gone on to live an illustrious life of ultra-distance riding, mostly of the randonneuring variety, with their friend Andrew. In this re-review, Morgan and Andrew consider the Secan’s updated build and speak to the easy wins and marginal gains of preparing both bike and rider for very long days in the saddle.

Forever tinkering with his bikes, John recently wrapped up a complete restoration of the 1983 Ritchey Everest that we looked at last year. Remember? The gray one? The bike appeared to have been subjected to a sloppy respray at some point in the early 2000s, and John wanted to restore the bike to its formal glory. 

He pinged Rick at D&D, the guy who has painted more Ritchey frames than perhaps anyone, to respray the Everest in Imron Bright Gold paint with the uber-rare Palo Alto Ritchey decals to finish the look. The Everest also had a “touring package” added when Tom built the frame in 1983. Since John acquired it, the Everest has always felt a bit naked without the proper racks…

We know John’s posted a lot of vintage projects over the past few years, but this might be the best yet! Let’s check it out below…

We’re here in Portland, covering the 2023 MADE Bike Show, looking for bikes that we thought you, the readers of The Radavist would appreciate. Josh and John have been scouring the halls of the show for bikes to document, and we’ve got Part 05 of our coverage for you to enjoy…

Thanks to 1-Up USA for sponsoring our continued 2023 MADE Bike Show coverage!

Today we’re elated to present to you a most unique bicycle; Otis Guy’s 1978 Breezer Series I, in all its period-correct glory. This one is a very special installment of our Vintage Bicycles series, so let’s get to it!

For a two-man operation, Nick Neuhaus and Daniel Yang have their systems dialed. Or, maybe the manpower limitations of being a small team have been the motivating force behind the duo’s streamlined Marin-based, framebuilding operation, Neuhaus Metalworks. Hailey Moore and John Watson spent some time talking shop with Nick and Daniel on their innovative 3D printed components and how these parts lead to higher efficiency in their US-made frames. Read on for a closer look at Neuhaus’ exciting approach to making steel and titanium mountain bikes.

Marin County was a bustling time for the early mountain bike scene from the late 70s and well into the 80s. Names like Tom Ritchey/Gary Fisher/Charlie Kelly at the MountainBikes store, and Joe Breeze, Charlie Cunningham, and Steve Potts psychically and physically shaping the future of the then-fledgling sport with their fire-road ripping designs, torches and tig welders.

We’ve reported on Cunningham and Potts’ involvement in Wilderness Trail Bikes (known widely as WTB) over the past few years along with Mark Slate. In 1983, Cunningham, Potts, and Mark Slate founded WTB, and the trio began developing components in Marin, leaning on both builder’s fondness for innovation and exquisitely unique craft. While Steve loved to shape tubes with brass fillets, focusing on the form regardless of weight, Charlie would tig aluminum and shave grams anywhere he could. The two made for a dynamic duo of constructeurs.

By the time 1985 rolled around, mountain bikes were a legitimate tour de force within the bike industry. Even though they gravitated towards completely different frame materials and processes, Cunningham and Potts were credited with crafting some of the most iconic bikes of the era and still found the time to collaborate and share ideas.

As with many of the influential characters and pivotal moments in the early days of the almighty mountain bike, collaboration was key, and sometimes, it took two talented individuals to make a single bike…

Last year, while building up a Ritchey frame, I reached out to Martin at Second Spin Cycles, asking if he had any early Ritchey-brazed bullmoose bars. He responded “no,” prompting me to ask if he had any large bikes he was looking to sell. He responded with “actually… yes.”

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.

There’s this truly magical culture of bike touring in Europe. You can go town to town and point to point on B roads and double tracks, stopping in at the local pub for a cold beer and a place to lay your head. The same culture doesn’t exist in the same way in the US — towns are too far apart, lots of paved roads, busy traffic thanks to decades of car-centric infrastructure and culture, among other reasons.

But there’s a little-known exception to that rule — northern New England. I moved here from New York in early 2020, along with the rest of Brooklyn, and was instantly taken by what locals call Vermont pavé, or miles and miles of dirt roads and unmaintained town highways that dot the state. It didn’t take long before I was plotting long-distance routes and multi-day bikepacking trips that captured as many of these roads as possible and adding them to the bucket list.

When Maverick Cycles opened its doors in my neighborhood last April, it took me a minute to get over my disbelief that such a place had sprung into existence here on the eastern edge of Los Angeles County.

In this episode of “Where Are They Now?” we catch up with the road bike Hubert D’Autremont fabricated for himself to see what it has been up to over the past several years since its last appearance on The Radavist. We even returned to the same photoshoot location.