Ode to Tubular Tires

My perspectives in yesterday’s piece, Talking to the Race Mechanics, were those of a tiny slice of the cycling population: the race mechanics and racers trying to keep the show on the road and older riders as myself wanting to remain absolutely pro-world current. All of the new developments I spoke of are in truth wonders for the general cycling population, great improvements for their daily cycling. As Wayne Stetina pointed out in his email response, titled Eustice RetroTech, the new generation of disc rotors are much stronger and less prone to warp, while the new TuboLite 39-gram tubes reduce total clincher rolling weight by almost 100 grams over normal 90-gram butyl ones. And while tubeless are difficult to mount, once up and running provide the most reliable rubber on the market, perfect for urban dwellers or anyone else who wants fast, hassle-free cycling. 

Disc brakes are - dare I say it – unstoppable. The Canyon line of bicycles is now exclusively disc and German tire manufacturer Schwalbe has eliminated their tubular division, betting the house on tubeless going forward. As the road cycling population ages (in Europe too) these new developments, purposely or not, have a geriatric engineering aspect to them. Di2 has saved my right hand which is wearing out after so many years of working on my family holly farm combined with years of manual shifting, disc technology allows strong braking even to people afflicted with a weak, perhaps arthritic grip, and self-sealing tubeless eliminates, for the most part, the problems of having to pry tires off and on a rim on the side of the road.

Yet for all of that, I still love tubular tires, that completely anachronistic product that stubbornly refuses to fade away and remains the choice of the professional peloton. The fact that these $20 to $40 million-dollar WorldTour teams, with all their F1 wind tunnel and scientific carbon fiber research, still make the pilgrimage up to Brittany and FMB (Francois Marie Boyaux) the artisan hand-made tire shop, to buy his special creations for the most important Classic races of the year, is both astounding and heartwarming to me. His tubulars are akin to ballet pointe shoes: beautiful things, handmade in an ancient manner, short-lived and expensive, yet unsurpassed by any modern technology. 

I can generally tell when I’m riding with someone who’s only ever been on clinchers or, now, tubeless. They tend somewhat numbly plow right over just about anything on the road because the consequences are so minimal and they’ve never lived in the constant state of terror brought by riding tubulars. That fear of puncturing your treasured tire is constant. Which is a good thing.

My old DS, Jean de Gribaldy, the man who discovered Sean Kelly, was the sort of French character that no longer exists. He ran the roughest pro team in France, yet was friends with all sort of writers, and artists, especially famed Belgian singer/songwriter Jacques Brel. As the story goes, the two were flying in Brel’s private airplane when the engine started to make a noise. DeGri, shaken, looked to Brel and asked, “Jacques, aren’t you afraid?” Brel responded, “Ah Jean, that noise, that fear is the point of life. The fear that stimulates you, that enlivens your body and spirit.” As I said, a different generation, a cool one.
And while my fear is not that of being high in the sky with a sputtering engine, riding tubulars provides me with an enhanced experience, a heightened concentration and awareness as I focus on every tiny bit of debris on the road, training my skills to avoid punctures and save my precious tires. Mr. Paris-Roubaix, Roger De Vlaminck, never punctured once in all of the Paris-Roubaix’s he rode (maybe once in his final one). That’s not luck – that is pure skill and concentration. The sort I hope to still have to some degree.

Tubulars, outside of a couple of frame builders such as Sarto, are the final, artisanal products to remain in the pro racing world. They are certainly not for everyone as just the gluing – not too much or too little, the right mix of white and brown, requires long experience. But each brand has their own unique and beautiful ride quality, a silk bag (tubulars are basically a fabric bag with a tube sewn up inside, with a tread glued the top and a basetape covering the stiching on the bottom, which in turn is glued onto the rim) is different that a cotton one. One can have a completely different feel to your ride with each tire choice. My friend Francis Blanc, who I’m going to soon tell you about, rode for Felice Gimondi when the Italian won the 1965 Tour de France. He still has FMB make him custom, 30mm road tires with thick cyclocross tubes. It’s that sort of industry I love to support. 

I have another friend named Alan Geiger, a New Yorker who still seems to have the record for the most Central Park laps ridden in a single day: more than 30 (180-miles+ – would drive me insane) if I remember correctly. He, squirrel-like, would hide tubulars behind the guardrails on 9W which, like the Tour of Colombia, is the one main road we New Yorkers go up and down all day long, with little detours here and there. Alan could always find a second spare to get him home in the event of a puncture. Rumor is that there are still some good Clements of his to be found out there. In writing this piece, I remembered Alan’s tactic, and am going to adopt it by sneaking out, making sure no one is looking, and cache a couple of Conti Sprinter Gatorskins (bombproof) behind the guardrails. In that way, I can safely ride my beloved tubulars all year long and be sure to make it home.