What makes a nice bike, truly nice? I’m not talking about intangibles here, like geometry or that magic ‘ride feel’, but actual things. Is it having a frame made from the latest aerospace-grade wonder material, a blingy parts list, or a freehub so loud it can be heard around the world?

Maybe nasal rock vocalist and UFO enthusiast Tom DeLonge was onto something back in 1999, when he wrote:

“All the small things,
True care, truth brings”

Undoubtedly everyone will have their own opinions here but for me, like Tom, it’s the small things. Little touches that make a bike more than just the sum of its parts. The bikes featured on sites like Vital MTB’s Bike Of The Day may be very shiny, and certainly very expensive, but scrolling through them feels a bit like that famous American Psycho business card scene. Yeah, from pop-punk to axe-murder in less than a minute… now that’s good writing!

“Look at that subtle colour-matching. The tasteful cable routing. Oh, my God. It even has push-ons.”

Tidy Cables

‘Tidy’ is not synonymous with ‘internal’. While I have nothing against internal cable routing when done right (i.e. not through the headset!), what I’m talking about here is cables that have been measured, cut, routed and arranged with care. A bike can have all the clean lines you like, but if there’s a snake’s nest of wiring up front, it will look crap.

Neat cables are, to me, a sign of an attentive mechanic with meticulous attention to detail. I enjoy building my own bikes from the frame up because it gives me the chance to be this mechanic, but even for bikes I’ve bought pre-built, I’ve generally gone in and tidied up the cockpit as soon as possible. Ideally I’ll make the most of disconnected hoses and cables and use heat shrink tubing to keep lines together, although when I’ve wanted a less permanent solution (or simply not had the time to cut things yet) I have dabbled with using nylon sleeving, spiral wrap and electrical tape too.

Push-On Grips

I’ll often run a set of lock-on grips on a new bike, as the convenience of whipping grips on and off in seconds with a hex wrench cannot be understated. This makes things way easier while dialling in bar width, control position and the like. The best I’ve used are the ODI Longneck V2.1s, followed closely by the Peaty’s Monarchs (mushroom, please). These are not bad grips, at all, but I’ve never used a set of lock-ons which have come close to the comfort and bar feel a good set of push-ons provides.

Once everything is dialled and I’ve taken the time to glue and wire on a set of my favourite rubber, that first ride feels like coming home. Even better, wrapping your mitts around a set of well-loved push-on rubber – perfectly worn in, but not worn out – is a deeply personal pleasure. Favourite push-ons include the Shadow Conspiracy VVS DCRs I have on my Stooge, the DMR Grids on my Banshee, and Renthal Ultra-Tackys, which I find a bit too thin these days but provide absolutely insane grip.

Patina

“a surface appearance of something grown beautiful especially with age or use“
– Mirriam-Webster

Just like grips, most things reach a perfect point somewhere between worn in and worn out. Where exactly this point lies is somewhat personal preference, but I love seeing bikes that have clearly been ridden. That’s not to say you shouldn’t look after your stuff – I’m a big fan of both frame protection and preventative maintenance (both things which perhaps appeal to my somewhat OCD nature in the workshop) – but there’s nothing quite like a bike or part which has aged just so.

Maybe it’s a frame pockmarked with paint chips, scrapes and dings, each one telling a story of a near-miss with a tree or a hilarious OTB into some brambles. It could be peeling helitape where a car rack clamps the frame, evoking memories of trips to trails near and far. Perhaps a dropper post lever, anodising worn and slightly bent, long since superseded by a newer design but still functioning as well as it always has on trail rides and uplift days aplenty. Pedals, polished silver through years of rock strikes and shoe wear, still spinning as freely as when they were new. A saddle, the cover stained and the edges a little the worse for wear, now more comfortable than ever. Or even a waterproof jacket, now of questionable waterproofness and held together with Tenacious Tape, but which still gives that bomb-shelter reassurance when worn.

Some might choose to retire these things, arguably before their time, but it’s hard to quantify and impossible to replace the joy they bring and the feelings they evoke.

Favourite Things

Sometimes you just have a favourite little something: a bottle and cage combo never bettered, a multitool that has never let you down, or a weird tyre combo that you love even though nobody else does. Even if the item itself is new, without patina, it’s something you know you’d be lost without.

There’s definitely more be written on this, but I think it’s these funny little individual choices that make a bike truly yours. And if there’s anything the world needs more of right now, it’s individuality…

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Note: This blog will be cross-posted, with minor edits, to the blog over at The Bike Factory.