Attention biking fans!

The Italian Biking Update (plus Giro d’Italia 2001)
[written by Paul, edited by Kathy]

Biking in Italy is a close second in popularity to football (soccer). And
you can guess how popular football is in Europe. Kids playing pick-up
games on a Piazza in Venice demonstrate better ball-handling skills than
college players in the USA do. Biking is everywhere in Tuscany and Lucca.
Bikes are ridden by racers, commuters, weekend warriors, kids, adults and
the old folks going into the local village for afternoon coffee. Even the
70-year-old cleaning lady rides her bike to the vacationer’s villa at
the end of a two-mile long dirt road. Every serious rider here (and there
are a LOT) seems to have all the essential and color-coordinated
equipment/clothes and owns a Bianchi, Tomassini, Colnago, Daccordi, or
Coppi. I have only seen one US Postal jersey and/or bike here and a few
Cannondale frames. Neighborhood shops dangle the latest and greatest De
Rosa frame from five-pound test lines in the window. Biking is an Italian
passion and both the young and old are inspired to ride. The afternoon
siesta seems like a time specifically invented for bike riders.

Bikers in Italy are very much respected and admired. Even though there may
be a shoulder along a road, the notoriously impatient Italian drivers are
not bothered by having to swerve around a bike occupying ½ of the lane.
On a weekend day, groups and individual riders dominate the landscape.
During our first weekend here, an amateur race went up our mountain.
Hundreds of locals lined the streets on this rainy Sunday to cheer. Five
motorcycles cleared the roadway for this group of 50 riders and the 8 team
cars that followed. Since I did not recognize any of the teams, I am
guessing that these were “minor league” pros. But what a fantastic
turnout by the locals of Malmantile! During the following weekend, another
group of cyclists attacked our mountain. Lacking a support motorcade, this
ride was probably a local benefit.

Biking in earnest began in week two, initiated by my wife. We had seen
many a gorgeous bike. Colnago was clearly the frame of choice, so there
was plenty of eye candy to admire as we drove around Tuscany. As we were
climbing the mountain up to our villa and passing yet another Colnago
Dream, I commented on how expensive they were in the USA. I could not
believe how many Italians owned them. Kathy reminded me how strong the US
dollar was and asked, do you think they cheaper in Italy? Why not take one
back as a momento? What an awesome idea! Shouldn’t we stop Colnago man and
ask where to get one? Sure.

Colnago man #1 directed us to a tiny shop in Montelupo where Colnagos were
rented and sold. Upon visiting the store, we found that they did not have
any, but did sell Daccordi, a frame that can be custom built to match my
dimensions. Unfortunately, he spoke no English, and our Italian was not
good enough to ask technical questions about the bikes or how to rent a
bike. But the Daccordi was gorgeous and had Carbon-fiber chain and seat
stays integrated onto an Aluminum frame.

While taking my parents to the Pisa airport the next morning, I
serendipitously noticed a shop in Vinci with a HUGE Daccordi sign on the
roof and a big “we rent bikes” sign in the window. A quick search on
the Internet revealed this as the Daccordi factory! Frames are built on
the second floor and sold on the first. My visit the following day was
most interesting. The owner’s wife, Marilene, spoke English. She
explained the types of frames they made: Al, C-fiber, steel, or any
combination. After much discussion about my riding style, weight, and
riding plans, it was concluded that the best frame for me was an Aluminum
frame with Carbon-fiber forks and seat stays. Daccordi is one of a few
companies that integrates Carbon parts onto the Altec2 frame. I figured
that buying the frame was risky, but a minimal risk. Since the size was
custom, it will be comfortable. The risk was the ride. I like the
stiffness of Aluminum, and maybe the Carbon parts would reduce road noise.

After some meticulous measurements of almost every part of my body, the
numbers were entered into a computer that calculated my frame size and a
few minutes later I had a test spin on an adjustable bike! It was
official! The frame would be ready June 8th for me to take home! A rental
Daccordi was provided for my use over the next month. I even met three
riders from Team Selle Italia (sponsored by Daccordi), who happened into
the shop in preparation for the Giro d’Italia.

Once the rental bike was adjusted and brought home to our villa, riding in
Italy began. Since the villa was at the top of a mountain, each ride began
with a descent and ended with a climb. I took it easy the first couple of
rides. I was even passed by Team Selle Italia while flatted in Lastra A
Signa. I rode every other day, getting my riding legs back.

The villa we transferred to for weeks 3-5 of our stay was in Valgiano,
halfway up a mountain overlooking Lucca. The riding was absolutely awesome
here. From the villa, I rode along the side of the mountain through
vineyards and olive gardens, passing through St. Andrea in Carpal,
Toforri, and into Collodi. From there the climbing into Villa Bassilica
and Pizzorne began. The air was so clean, and there was no traffic as you
ascended 1200m vertically. It took almost an hour to climb, finishing in a
pine forest. The little towns along the way were so charming. They have a
central water source (mountain water) that is the social center of the
town. The locals were nice and polite. To get places in Italy, you go by
town signs, not street signs, polar degrees, or N/S/E/W. So I continually
had to stop and ask people directions in broken Italian. Dov’e Collodi?
Every person politely corrected my pronunciation, then pointed and
directed me in Italian. Sempe diritte et cinque kilometer a destre.
Grazie. Prego. Without their help, I never would have found Pizzorne.

Another example of Italian hospitality came on my first ride in Valgiano.
A wrong turn sent me down the mountain instead of along the rim. I did not
realize my mistake until I looked at the map. On the way back up the
mountain, I passed numerous riders. Near the top I encountered a rider on
a Carbon-fiber Colnago. As I passed this rider, I heard the infamous
“ching ching” sound of a downshift. Out of the saddle and onto my
wheel he went. Ahhhh, a little Italian attitude! I was content to continue
at my pace, so Colnago man #2 came along my side, pointed at my ugly
Daccordi rental and said “Daccordi, Molto Bene!” Ahh. This coming from
a Colnago man. How nice.

Further down the road, I encountered the second flat of the day and was
cursing and patching my original tube when a man on a C-fiber-Look tried
to communicate with me about my predicament. Although Italian and English
did not work, I communicated my predicament using gestures and sighing. He
told me he lives ½ km away in Collodi and out came his spare tube and a
CO2 Cartridge. I thanked him, accepted the tube, offered money, but he
declined. In Texas, we’d say, “Y’all Italians are damn nice.”

But the real treat for me came a few days later when I realized that the
Giro d’Italia was running from Montecatini Terme (between Lucca and
Florence) to Abetone on May 27. Of course I wanted to go, and inquired
with the Villa owner how to get information on the start time and route.
Monica was so sweet. She contacted her uncle in Lucca and arranged for me
to ride with his cycling club from Lucca to Abetone (the first major climb
of the tour). It would be about 80 km each way and the climb to Abetone
was a vertical ascent of 1400m. Was I interested? Of course! The only
trouble was that I was supposed to meet his club at 8:45am sharp at the
supermarket along the road. I arrived at 8:35 and waited. At 8:47, a group
of men in their 50s and 60s stopped. Adiamo Abetone! Did they know Monica?
Si, Si, Si. Adiamo, Abetone! So away we went, at a slow pace of 16 mph on
the flats. Eventually, we were passed by a group of 30 cyclists who were
going much faster. I later found out that this was the real club, but I
did not join them for fear of insulting the man I thought was Monica’s
uncle! Oh well, none of the riders spoke English any better than I spoke
Italian, but pace lines are language-independent and it was nice to ride
with a group. We encountered so many riders along the way. Everyone was on
his or her way to see the race.

The streets of Abetone were lined with people on both sides when I arrived
at the base of the mountain and started climbing two hours prior to the
start of the race 70-km away. I rode to the top, dreaming about the racing
triple on my bike at home and cursing the 54/22 combination that I was
pushing up the mountain. I ascended alone, leaving behind my geriatric
club members. I then came back down about 1/3 of the mountain to a section
of the road where 3 separate stretches of road were visible. The roads
that ascend mountains in Italy tend to turn back on themselves every 50 m,
permitting one to stand on the outside edge of a road and see the riders
climb for a couple of turns. Abetone is only a 5% grade rising 1400 m
above sea level. It is gentle by tour standards.

The fan fare started 1.5 hours prior to the arrival of the bikers. The
Carabinieri escorted 50-100 cars up the mountain. Each car was a tour
sponsor of some kind and had cute and comical advertisements on the car.
Picture in your mind 50-100 variations of the Oscar Mayer Weiner car going
by! One van had a six pack of yogurt on top. Each container was the size
of a large garbage can. Another was the world’s largest ice cream
sandwich, and giant version of what Nestle sells in every corner coffee
bar. One by one, they went up the narrow mountain pass, honking and
flashing. Next came the official Giro d’Italia gear cars, stopping to
sell pink T-shirts, watches, bandanas, and other merchandise essential to
supporting the race. Finally came more Carabinieri escorting VIPs. Oh
yeah, and the riders came an hour later, already fractured by the
mountain. One group of 12 had broken away, followed by SAG vehicles.
Slowly but surely, eight more groups of riders and support vehicles went
by. The crowd cheered loudly for Cippolini and Pantani. Although Jan
Ulrich was cheered, most people routed for the Italians. Eight minutes
later, the last rider ascended to Abetone, alone. Clearly a crash victim,
his muscles stretched the gauze that adorned them. The crowd also cheered
for him. He showed little interest in their applause.

With the last of the Giro gone, I mounted my rental, descended Abetone,
and headed for home. After 10 miles, I hooked up with a small group of
riders, forming a pace line and reducing my time to get home. The Giro
d’Italia was an unforgettable experience.