Sometimes you tell yourself you’re ‘just having a look’.
And sometimes you know full well that’s a lie.
Today was the latter, so welcome to this little personal post.
I went to Zweirad Neubauer because I wanted a new road bike. Full stop. No inner struggle, no “do I really need this?”. I’d known for ages. Even though I’ve got my gravel bike at home – affectionately known as “Scotty” – and it can actually do everything I need.
But only in theory.
And then there it was
All alone on the steps.
As if placed there just for me.
A Bianchi Sprint. Celeste. Celeste, of course.
I walk closer and in that moment it’s clear: this is the one.
The size feels tailor-made for me, the saddle is at a height that feels just right straight away. I hadn’t even properly touched it yet and already had this feeling that the two of us would get on.
It was really close to love at first sight.
Or let’s say: it was love. I just pretended for a moment that I needed to think about it.
And then the moment of truth: getting on.
I swing myself onto it, roll a few metres – and it feels right straight away. No fiddling about, no readjusting, just riding.
And apparently not just for me.
Even Papa Neubauer took a quick look, gave a slight grin and said that it looked pretty good.
And when someone who sees bikes all day long pauses for a moment, you know: this is no longer a coincidence.
Scotty, it’s not what it looks like
My gravel bike hasn’t done anything wrong. Really, it hasn’t.
Scotty is reliable, versatile, always ready for anything – from gravel tracks to ‘I’ll just see where I can get out of this’.
But a road bike is… different.
It’s that clear promise of speed. Of the road. Of “today is just about riding”. No turning off, no experimenting – just pedal and see what happens.
And that’s exactly the feeling I’ve been missing.
This Celeste…
I don’t know what it is about that colour.
Celeste isn’t just beautiful – it draws you in.
You look at the bike and suddenly you have plans.
Routes. Times. Ideas you didn’t even have before.
It’s that quiet “Come on, just give it a go”.
The plan was there straight away
Even in the shop, before anything had been signed, it was clear how things would go.
Pick it up on Saturday. Probably look at
it far too often on Sunday.
And on Monday, a ride around Lake Wörthersee.
Because a bike like this doesn’t want to start slowly. It wants to get out. It wants to see the open road. And apparently, so do I.
Between anticipation and a touch of megalomania
I know myself well enough to know how it works in my head.
There’s immediately this image of a perfect ride. A gentle pedal stroke, a steady rhythm, everything feels easy.
And then there’s reality, which probably lies somewhere between ‘it’ll be fine’ and ‘why on earth am I doing this to myself’.
But that’s exactly the point.
That slight tingle before the first proper lap. That knowledge that it might be a bit too much – and that’s exactly why it’s right.
And now?
It’s still standing there. Not with
me yet. Not ridden yet.
But somehow it’s already part of it.
And yes, I call it my ‘work bike’. Not because it is one – but because I hope to use it for exactly that: for many hours in the saddle, many kilometres around Graz and beyond, and above all for stories.
Maybe together with you, too.
I’m really keen to set off on the odd RideAlong with the new bike. Just head out on the spur of the moment, pick up a few people, ride together, have a bit of a natter and see where we end up.
So if you spot someone somewhere around Graz on a brand-new Bianchi with a big grin on their face – that could be me.
And then just come along for a bit. 🚴♂️
Yours frassil
