Simply - A legend
The term legend is one used far too often these days and I would not have thought of ever applying it to an inanimate object. However, it is one that can be used when talking about Genesis' Croix de Fer.
The Croix de Fer is where "form follows function" in the bike world and I don't think it would be ever described as "pretty" or "flowing". The steel frame is, in engineering terms "beautifully" welded and made of Reynold's 725 steel, but it has more of a hint of the industrial, rather than the insatiable. There are more bolt bosses than "nipples on a sow" as a friend once commented and the frame lines look rather austere. The fork has the straightness of a Victorian table leg and the addition of bolt-thru axles adds stiffness. On appearance therefore, one would believe that the ride would be as comfortable as riding a breeze block across a ploughed field.
My first encounter with a CDF was when my friend purchased one for our tour to Italy (see 2Go2Como). He bought the frame and built the bike up around a Shimano 105 groupset. I remember first seeing the bike and comparing it to my svelte Kinesis Granfondo. On doing the bike world equivalent to the automotive "tyre kick" - picking it up - I named it tugboat and quietly rejoiced in the knowledge that it would not be me pedaling it up the Alps. However, as we began training there was something strange about my friends demeanor during and post ride. He was fine - not broken, stiff or creaking. He was almost refreshed! As I bashed the pedals with the urgency of an escaped fugitive, he would simply ride on, placidly pedaling. Finally, halfway through one of our rides I asked if I could have a go, suspecting that it was much more about the rider than the ride. After a slight saddle adjustment, I rode off and it all became so very clear...
When you ride a CDF you don't ride on it, you ride in it. Sorry if that sounds weird, or pretentious, but you are part of the bike. Many bikes you are perched on top of, gripping on as you pedal furiously. Not with the CDF. As you pedal you and the bike seem to be fused and it becomes an effortless joy to ride. I found myself genuinely enjoying the riding experience and had time to look around me. The bike had become an extension of me. As we exchanged back to our original bikes, he commented on the stiffness and positive feel to my bike. I was just left feeling that I'd had a glimpse of something special. As we rode to Italy, both of our bikes performed faultlessly, yet his was always making him smile.
I had experienced something profound and wanted one of my own.
And now, several years later I do. The 2020 CDF 30 is very similar to my friends - a little more Gucci in the colour scheme, but the same animal underneath. I've added a Brooks saddle to further melt me into the riding experience and changed the bar tape to match. The sensation of riding a CDF is visceral - not that of the teeth gritting, urgency of so many bikes. When I ride I now have the time to enjoy the view - I struggle on Strava to use the drop-down saying workout, as it never feels like it. I see other riders, expressions fixed, almost tortured and feel I should offer them salvation.
I have joked that if the house was burning down, as I stood outside with my CDF next to me, I might suddenly remember the kids - but there is a deep connection here. I could get all Gandalf saying "One bike to rule them all", but the Croix de Fer is not about domination. Its about happiness and in our current world we all need a bit of that.
To find out more about the Croix de Fer visit Genesis Bikes.