Of course you can try, by phone, e-mail, fax or whatever else the age of communication has to offer. But you won't get more than an automatic reply e-mail in your virtual mailbox. "One year delivery time. No order acceptance for the time being," is the content.
Florian Wiesmann has no time to talk on the phone. He has to file, weld and polish. His job is to make other people's dreams tangible. At the moment, he can barely keep up. "When I build a frame, there's always an element of craftsmanship involved," says Wiesmann: "On the one hand, a mountain bike is something totally primitive. On the other hand, it's also something extremely technical."
Wiesmann has been building customised bicycle frames for almost two decades. He is a tailor with a folding rule and welding needle. Someone for whom the result is more important than the effort. It takes between ten days and three weeks to turn a stack of tubes into a finished frame. However, given the obsession with detail, it is not always clear what is craftsmanship and what is caressing. To rule out any source of error, he does without employees. The standard is: nothing less than perfection. The customer always forms the basis of the frame.
"A bike is only ever as good as it harmonises with its rider," says Wiesmann. It sounds like the advertising slogan of a dating agency. And basically, frame building is nothing else. It brings together what belongs together.
It's about feeling. About object sexuality. About love.
The craft is booming, even if the manufacturers now only share a small plot of land in the lush pastures of the bicycle industry. A few days ago, 150 exhibitors crowded into the halls of the legendary North American Handmade Bicycle Show in Texas. It's like a parallel world that thrives in the shadow of the overpowering mass industry.
"You can build a standard bike with customised parts, but it will never really fit perfectly," says American Rob Vandermark, who helped the titanium forge Merlin achieve cult status in the late 1980s and founded Seven Cycles in 1997. More than 2000 frames are now modelled there by hand year after year. At prices that would make the average price-conscious cyclist break out in a cold sweat. An outgrowth of the desire for luxury, like badger hair shaving brushes or mobile phones studded with diamonds? German importer Mario Sillack has to smile.
"The economic crisis has been our best year so far. Many people no longer want to pay thousands of euros for a carbon bike that will be out of fashion next year because the successor model is coming onto the market." At the beginning of the nineties, handmade forges were leading the way in development and racing success. Companies such as Klein, Yeti and Fat Chance were not just manufacturing out of passion. They were the birthplace of an entire sport. Then came the powerful corporations with their engineers, design programmes, Far East factories and global distribution networks. The pursuit of value for money left no room for individuality and passion. But it has created affordable mass-produced goods that are getting ever closer to what is technically possible. Frames weighing less than 1000 grams, for example, which have incredible stiffness values but cost just half as much as a customised bike.
Like Rolex against cheap digital alarm clock
So can a hand-built frame be any better than one from a high-tech company? That is not the question. Can a Rolex tell the time better than a cheap digital alarm clock? Does a fountain pen from Davidoff write better than one from the office market? It's not about the "better" that can be measured with equipment. It's about the "better" that you feel inside; that tingles from your stomach through your body, clouds your mind and prevents you from sleeping. It's about a feeling. You can call it object sexuality. Or love.
In the attached articles you will find selected pieces of jewellery from the world's finest manufacturers. We have put them through their paces in the mud with no regard for their beautiful surfaces. However, as almost all bikes are made to specification, we have refrained from carrying out a rigorous comparison test with tables.
By the way: If you want to own a frame from US manufacturer Vanilla Bicycles one day, you have to pay 1500 dollars (non-refundable!) into the company account and remain on a waiting list for seven years. It is said that for some, one place on this list is enough for a feeling of heavenly bliss.
