The Northeast is full of brands that rose from the ashes of another company. Richard Sachs and Peter Weigle (and Ben Serotta and Chris Chance) got their start at Witcomb USA. Independent Fabrication came from Chris Chance’s Fat City. Medici’s DNA grew from Masi USA. Seven Cycles owes its start to Merlin Metalworks, which began within Fat City. Then Firefly sprouted from Fat City, if we’re counting. And just a couple of hours west of Boston, No. 22 is the phoenix that arose from Serotta Competition Cycles.
No. 22 came to my attention as a result of the North American Handmade Bicycle Show. Early on, everyone at No. 22 was working a day gig and bike making was the side hustle—the same template that established Indy Fab. The lengths people will go to chase their dream of making bicycles requires a level of fortitude that writers, artists and musicians understand. The word foolhardy comes to mind, but that’s a judgment of the sort made by those who don’t really understand such a drive.
No. 22 got my attention initially, because of the brand’s presentation. The weld quality was exceptional, which is saying something as the difference between good and great is scarcely visible at 10 feet, and impossible to miss at 2 feet. Not only were the welds impressive, they combined incredible graphic design with anodized finishes the likes of which the bike biz hasn’t often seen.
This all came together in a package of gorgeous displays and a show-stopper of a bike at the 2019 NAHBS show in Sacramento. We judges gave No. 22 an award for best presentation as their booth gave each of their models a distinct personality. We talk about identity in branding, but we don’t often see it to that level. Topping that was the Best-in-Show-winning bike, which featured custom titanium fenders anodized in a retina-clutching yellow-to-purple fade. I’m working hard not to use the word epic.
The check
I’ll spare you the sad tale of an insufficiently secured garage door and the thief that made off with a custom bike, as I intend to keep my blood pressure down. There came a point at which my insurance company settled my claim and with money in my account, it was time to replace my travel bike. I contacted my friends at the brand that had made the stolen ride and their wait was—okay, I’ll use that word now—epic. As I contemplated my next move, I happened to reviewed a bunch of photos from that final NAHBS show in Sacramento. When I ran across my photos of the No. 22 display I remembered just how impressed I was by their bikes. Lightbulb on.
Visual appeal always matters. I’ve never purchased an ugly bike and I don’t expect anyone else to. I’ve been saying that ever since I worked in a bike shop, and it is even truer today than it was then. However, I’ve never purchased a bike based on its looks alone. There were two factors that caused me to take a hard look at No. 22. First, as I mentioned, this outfit’s DNA comes from Serotta, and Serottas, of which I rode/reviewed a few, were renown for their ride, part of which I was to learn owed to stiffer-than-usual top tubes. More on that in a sec. Second, they offer bikes with the “Z” coupler offered by Paragon Machine Works. The Paragon Z coupler is a variation on Santana’s patented frame coupler that avoids their patent. The Z coupler allows a frame to be split into two sections, much as S&S couplers allow, but they are virtually invisible.
It wouldn’t be accurate to say I’d made my mind up before sending that first email, but it would be true to say it would have been hard for them not to make the sale. I knew the fit I wanted. I knew I wanted titanium. I knew I wanted an anodized finish, because duh. I knew I wanted a frame with Z couplers. And I have to admit I wanted a frame with gorgeous welds. That logic table doesn’t only come up with No. 22, but it’s a super-short list.
The No. 22 Drifter frame starts at $6499, and the a la carte add-ons require a + sign.
The Drifter
No. 22 offers a number of models. The Drifter is their gravel bike with clearance for serious tires. By serious, I mean bigger than 35mm. There are plenty of locations where a 35mm tires are wide enough to handle the local gravel, and I have had the good fortune to ride in some of them; it’s a lovely experience. However, I do not live in such a place. The Drifter was designed handle up to 45mm tires; the sweet spot for me is 40mm.
We spent some time discussing geometry and tubing diameters. The 50mm rake of their proprietary carbon fiber gravel fork is 50mm so they can build with a slack head tube angle to reduce toe overlap. My Drifter has a head tube angle of 70 degrees and a seat tube angle of 74 degrees. Compared to previous custom bikes in my life, this frame is noticeably smaller (aging is a bitch), and it deviates from their standard offerings slightly. It has a 55cm, sloping top tube and a 51.5cm seat tube (c-c). It features 8cm of bottom bracket drop, much to my liking. The head tube is 17cm long, so that I could get the bar high enough for back and neck comfort on long days. Compared to their stock offerings, it’s closest to their 54, but with a longer seat tube, a slightly steeper head tube angle and a much longer head tube.
Beyond the criteria I listed above, I asked for braze-ons for three bottle cages, a bento box mount on the top tube, ports for Di2 wires and … three weeks after I placed the order (srsly), I asked for titanium fenders. How that didn’t occur to me at the outset is something I’m chalking up to neurodivergence.
Thanks to the clearance for 45mm tires, getting fenders in the fork and rear triangle isn’t difficult. With fenders added, 35mm tires fit comfortably; I’ve managed to squeeze 40mm tires inside the fenders, but I had to stay on the road.
I settled on the yellow-to-purple anodized fade, but had the phase of the moon been different, I would have gone for the green-to-blue fade. What put me over the top were the slack-jawed stares my sons gave the yellow-purple fade.
Options
Asking for three bottle braze-ons, bento box braze ons and ports for Di2 wires are small potatoes as custom options go. The fenders are more significant, but the Z couplers were the real complication. Allow me to explain.
I push road and gravel bikes on descents. I like to descend fast and corner hard. To do that, and do it comfortably, my bikes need two features: The first is a low bottom bracket. I like a bike with 7.5 to 8cm of bottom bracket drop. That helps drop the bike’s center of gravity, making it easier to lean over in a turn. The other thing I want is a stiff top tube. I’ve had several experiences where the bike seems stiff enough, particularly at the bottom bracket, but when descending, it struggles to hold a line.
This is a phenomenon that took some time for me to puzzle out. It only happened with frames that were touted for low weight. I was also aware that years ago, when Serotta got complaints about speed wobbles, their solution—following plenty of trial and error—was to replace the top tube with one that was stiffer. They found the speed wobbles evaporated.
What I’ve experienced with other bikes was rarely a speed wobble, but on occasion the bike simply wouldn’t corner as crisply.
If it seems counterintuitive that I’d want a titanium frame that emphasized stiffness over low weight, I placed great emphasis on a detail that isn’t visible because that’s what would separate a very good bike from a great one. It’s a detail that would never show itself if I rode ths bike exclusively in Florida. I’d never generate the sort of speed to flex the frame enough to throw the handling off.
No. 22 offers a full range of options aside from custom geometry and braze-ons. I ordered a stem, seatpost and three bottle cages, all anodized to match.
The Z coupler
The coupler is fairly straightfoward. It is composed of two half cylinders that fit together with the help of a tab on one half that slots into the other. That makes sure that the coupler is aligned side-to-side while the laser-cut “Z” aligns the tubes fore-aft, as well as preventing the two halves from pulling apart lengthwise. Holding the couplers together are two M6 bolts. No fancy wrenches needed. The way the Z couplers fit together makes a joke of putting together a frame with S&S couplers, and I say that as someone who appreciates the value of S&S couplers. I can clamp the two halves of the top tube together with one hand and insert the bolts with the other hand. Trying to hold the two halves of an S&S coupled frame with one hand in alignment so that the sleeves can be hand-snugged is not a thing. Thanks to the the Z couplers fit together, I can pick up the Drifter frame up with one hand and move it around before I’ve ever inserted bolts.
The couplers are welded to tubes and then the welds are ground smooth so that you can’t see where the tubing stops and the coupler starts. And because of the precision of the laser cuts, you can’t see the couplers unless you’re within 6 feet of the frame and know what you’re looking for.
This is an entirely aesthetic aspect, so discount it however you might, but I always viewed bikes with S&S couplers as travel bikes—the coolest travel bikes out there, but travel bikes nonetheless, which in my mind somehow diminished the value of bikes as daily drivers. Again, this is an aesthetic stance that is indefensible, but that’s how my mind operates. The Z couplers fly under the radar in a way that my sense of daily driverness remains unperturbed. I feel like I’m getting away with something.
In concert
Have you ever had the misfortune to hear a mediocre university orchestra? If not, let me describe the experience: The players play in tune by and large. Your ears don’t self-destruct from bad notes, but the different sections of the orchestra can play out of balance, volume-wise. The brass may overpower the woodwinds or the bass bury the cellos, and the percussion, if too enthusiastic, will deafen the brass.
That is one way to frame what happens with bicycle frames where one dimension is prioritized over other qualities. I’ve ridden frames that were so stiff I wanted to reduce tire pressure (but didn’t because apples to apples). I’ve ridden frames that were so light I didn’t want to descend on them because I couldn’t exercise the precise control I needed to corner at 45 mph. And I’ve ridden frames that were so aerodynamic that, yeah, tire pressure.
A great frame is like one of the great symphonies—take your pick: London, Boston, Los Angeles, Atlanta, Cincinatti, New York, you get the idea. With a great frame, all of its various design considerations work in, uh, concert. It’s stiff when you stand up and when you corner, isn’t overly heavy and handles like a Border Collie in an agility course.
The distinction I’m drawing isn’t the difference between good and bad; it’s the difference between really nice and exceptional. The No. 22 Drifter is one of those rare frames that on my first ride I remarked to myself, “Oh, yeah, a bike can be this good.” There is a rare cadre of frames that offer an ineffable quality that makes your synapses fire as during a first kiss.
And let me add, fit and and tubing selection figure in this orchestration such that my Drifter would not be perfect for someone my height but weighing 200 lbs. Similarly, someone who shares my weight, but not my height would not find the experience stellar. The point being, there are no absolutes, which is a big part of why ordering a custom frame and discussing with the builder your fit needs, your weight and riding style can make such an impact on your ultimate experience.
I’ve ridden a number of titanium frames over the years, and relative to the era in which I rode them, I called some the best titanium frame I’d ever ridden. Titanium is, like steel, a material especially well-suited to making bicycle frames. The No. 22 Drifter is not the lightest titanium frame I’ve ever ridden, but I wasn’t looking for that, for multiple reasons. What it is, is the best-handling titanium frame I’ve ever ridden, one that does not sacrifice comfort on the altar of stiffness while simultaneously managing to be the easiest traveling bike I’ve ever owned. Let me reframe that last statement: The No. 22 Drifter gives me the comfort I expect from titanium while also offering the best handling of any ti bike I’ve ever ridden. That I can break it in half and stuff it in a travel case boggles my mind. If you’d asked me, I would have told you combining those three dimensions wasn’t possible.
Final thought: I wish everyone could have this riding experience at least once.