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As you might guess, I spend a lot of time thinking about all kinds of bikes. It’s my responsibility to understand the differences between a great $300 singlespeed and a bad one, as well as what makes a $10,000 triathlon bike merely ok or exceptional. Mountain bikes, cargo bikes, e-bikes, industrial tricycles, and fitness bikes: My job is to understand what you want and need from a bicycle.
While I can only experience a bike as me, I spend a lot of time talking to members like you and other riders I meet in the real world. And I spend a lot of time looking at riders’ bikes. Not brand-new bikes, but bikes that riders have lived with them for a while.
As a result of all this thinking and talking and looking, I recently had a head-slapping moment: I’ve been categorizing road bikes incorrectly. And I think many brands, shops, and riders do as well.
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What we so often called road bikes—like the Specialized Tarmac, Trek Emonda, Cannondale SuperSix EVO, Cervelo R5—aren’t road bikes: They are race bikes.
These bikes are intentionally limited to maximize their ability to go very fast on nearly perfect paved surfaces. They’re designed so genetic freaks can cover distances as fast as possible while being attended to by a team of mechanics and a caravan of support vehicles. Calling them road bikes makes them seem more inclusive than they are. They’re not versatile, nor are they adaptable. That’s because they’re designed for use in competition in very controlled and specific circumstances. That pursuit of focused performance is why you get things like integrated front ends, proprietary parts, and aerodynamic shaping.
I want to make it clear that I like race bikes. They’re amazing and can be satisfying to ride even when not being used in competitions. I’ve spent many great hours and miles on the bikes I mentioned above. But the evolution of drop-bar equipment, the embrace of disc brakes and wider tires, and the rise of gravel have made clear just how narrowly focused race bikes are. There’s a lot of riding to be had in this world, so unless you’re focused on racing, why would you limit your options?
A road bike is a bike like the Open U.P./U.P.P.E.R., Mason Definition, Rondo Mutt, and Bridge Surveyor. (Check out my Five Awesome Bikes I Want to Ride story.) Allied’s new Echo? A road bike. Trek’s Domane is a road bike. Road bikes fit 35 to 40mm tires; road bikes are comfortable and versatile; road bikes are adaptable; road bikes aren’t afraid of getting dirty. A road isn’t paved by definition, so a road bike should be capable of traversing a variety of surfaces.
But even if you stay on paved surfaces, a road bike is better suited to most riding. On a race bike, you’re constantly dodging every little bump, hole, crack, and patch of sand. Riding in a group of riders on race bikes is freaking stressful with the constant callouts and last-moment juking. Our infrastructure is crumbling: 23, 25, and even 28mm tires are not suited to riding long stretches of paved surfaces in the modern world. 32s are barely adequate anymore.
My road bike right now is an Open U.P. with 35mm Panaracer Gravelking tubeless slick tires (on my scale they weigh just 300 grams). Most of the obstacles other riders in a group ride call out, I ride over without worry. When I see a patch of sand that washed into the road from runoff, I can ride through it. I don’t need to check behind me to make sure there’s no car approaching that might be caught off guard if I make a sudden swing further into the lane to avoid the sand.
Race bikes are high-strung and delicate: Riding them demands your constant attention and vigilance. Road bikes are mellower, less finicky, and less demanding. A wonderful benefit of all this? Riding is less stressful: I can relax when I ride instead of intensely scanning the road ahead.
I’m sure some will read what I’ve said thus far and imagine that a road bike is sluggish and upright. But bike feel or fit doesn’t need to be affected. A road bike can be light and quick; it can have a low position (if that’s what you want). I ride nearly the same position on my U.P. as I do on a race bike. A proper and comfortable fit is a proper and comfortable fit no matter the bike to which it is applied. And while my U.P.—which has wide tires and zero aerodynamic anything—is slower on flat and very smooth roads, the moment bumps, debris, or cracks are in the mix, the U.P. starts to make up the disadvantage. And quickly, too. Plus, I can take the U.P. on roads and trails where I wouldn’t want to take a race bike. At around 16 pounds my U.P. climbs great, too, and it’s stiff in the right ways.
I’ve had my U.P. together for a few weeks and I’ve taken it on many of the same rides I’ve ridden on race bikes. Honestly, I don’t miss riding the race bikes. I like race bikes and appreciate their no-compromise approach to speed, gaining a bit of speed and efficiency on smooth paved roads—the very few that exist around me—isn’t worth all the tradeoffs to me anymore. The U.P. is reasonably close to a race bike on the fastest, smoothest roads, and it’s exponentially better—more comfortable, faster, better handling, more versatile, more relaxing—almost everywhere else.
Bikes like the U.P., Mason Definition, Rondo Mutt, Bridge Surveyor, and Allied Echo aren’t typically called road bikes. They get called “all-road bikes” or they get lumped in with gravel bikes. (Gravel bikes fit 40mm-and-up tires.) But I think calling them anything other than road bikes—and calling race bikes road bikes—is a disservice, because it steers riders toward the wrong equipment. Unless your goal is to compete or if you exclusively stick to near-perfect pavement (which I don’t think is possible outside of Switzerland), a race bike is not the best or most enjoyable bike for your riding.
Race bikes are for racing; road bikes are for riding.
A gear editor for his entire career, Matt’s journey to becoming a leading cycling tech journalist started in 1995, and he’s been at it ever since; likely riding more cycling equipment than anyone on the planet along the way. Previous to his time with Bicycling, Matt worked in bike shops as a service manager, mechanic, and sales person. Based in Durango, Colorado, he enjoys riding and testing any and all kinds of bikes, so you’re just as likely to see him on a road bike dressed in Lycra at a Tuesday night worlds ride as you are to find him dressed in a full face helmet and pads riding a bike park on an enduro bike. He doesn’t race often, but he’s game for anything; having entered road races, criteriums, trials competitions, dual slalom, downhill races, enduros, stage races, short track, time trials, and gran fondos. Next up on his to-do list: a multi day bikepacking trip, and an e-bike race.
