Properly A-tired

Prior to the advent of the e-bike, the machine you were most likely to have to dodge on the sidewalk was the venerable GMC Denali, arguably the Colnago C-40 of Walmart Bikes:

[Bicycling Editors’ Choice Award Winner for “Best Can Collector’s Bike”]

Well, I’m afraid the Denali is no more, as due to a recent Executive Order they will heretofore be rebranded as McKinleys:

Though perhaps if you reach out to GMC they’ll send you a complimentary William McKinley sticker kit and you can rebrand it yourself:

By the way, if you’re bothered by Mount McKinley or the Gulf of America, I should remind you that the very same former bicycle stage race promoter is the reason a certain island in Jamaica Bay no longer has an offensive name:

And no, I’m not referring to “Grass Hassack,” though it does sound like a crotchal condition.

Anyway, now that you’ve all got grass up your hassacks because I mentioned The Culture Wars, I’d like to address the Roadini:

It sure is a head-turner. Just ask the deer:

See?

The last time I rode the Roadini this happened:

And shortly before that, this happened:

I’m generally not the superstitious type, but when the universe is so obviously trying to tell you something you should listen, and in this case what it was trying to tell me was to BUY SOME NEW GODDAMN TIRES YOU CHEAPSKATE, which I finally did:

In retrospect it was folly to put together a new bike only to scavenge around in my tire pile for suitable rubber, and my only regret so far is not having gotten these sooner:

They went on my NON-TUBELESS rims very easily, they’re perfectly straight, they roll smoothly and quietly, and the width is just right for the bike:

Of course, durability and puncture resistance remain to be seen, but I really hope they possess both attributes, because while I’ve loved the Roadini from the beginning, with these tires it’s nothing less than a dreamboat, and it’s like Captain Stubing has charted a course directly to my heart:

And like Tattoo, or Jan Heine, I wanted to shout about planing from the rooftops:

Oh wait, those were different shows, weren’t they?

Whatever.

The point is the Roadini may now have achieved “ascended master” status–like, it could easily leave this dimension altogether if it wanted, yet it remains here simply to teach the rest of us.

By the way, the Roadini does have a head badge, and this morning I noticed this story, which I only skimmed before the paywall slammed shut:

However, at first blush its premise appears flawed. Were there ever really head badges on race bikes? My 43 year-old Cervino doesn’t have a head badge, nor does my Faggin, which isn’t much younger. Eddy Merckx’s bike didn’t have a head badge, it just had a picture of himself on it: