A history of understated elegance. While other Italian bikes had paint jobs so flamboyant, so gaudy, so…Italian, Cinelli frames could make a cyclist swoon with gossamer-thin tubing, a solid red paint job and that single winged C.
Then this happened.
Chunky. Thick. Industrial. And those sticker plates with pin up girls. Grazie per niente, Cippolini.
And yet, against all odds, against my better judgement…I fell in love with it.
It had character and a point of view. Yes, the point of view was of an aggressively-hypersexual Italian dude in a tight shirt, but it still stood out in an intriguing way.
So here’s to you, Cinelli. I’m thankful you take chances. And that you listened to your instincts. And to Mario Cippolini.
Just that once.