C-Bear and Willier a Combination made in a Cesspit

Right then, pull up a pew and prepare to be utterly dazzled. I was recently blessed with the arrival of a Wilier Triestina frame, a true masterpiece of modern engineering, sent in by some lucky chap whose bottom bracket was merely “experiencing a minor hiccup.” Yes, in the same way that a torrential downpour in Grimsby on a Friday night is a “light shower.” My initial, deeply insightful pronouncement? A resounding “Bravo!” for such innovative use of materials, though some less discerning eyes might have called it “utter rubbish”.

The sheer artistry evident in this frame’s condition was breathtaking. The paint, for instance, featured a charmingly rustic blistering effect – so much more character than those boring, flawless finishes. The seat had been machined with a level of precision one usually only dreams of, clearly by a craftsman who scoffs at the very notion of straight lines. And the bottom bracket! Oh, the ingenuity! It had undergone a fascinating metamorphosis from BB386 to BB86. One can only applaud such bold reinterpretation of cycling standards.

Then came the sheer, unadulterated joy of extracting the Cbear bottom bracket. I believe the technical term for such a component is a “paragon of performance,” though my workshop notes seem to have a rather more colourful, and frankly libellous, description scribbled down. The removal was a delightful little puzzle, requiring only the gentlest application of a blowtorch to a plastic insert (which clearly just wanted to stay put, the sentimental thing), and a perfectly routine session with the blind bearing puller. A walk in the park, really.

And the sleeving! My word, the avant-garde approach to it was simply inspired. Who needs trivialities like an axial stop, or a wall thickness that might actually provide some structural integrity? Such conventional thinking is clearly for amateurs. Naturally, this brought to mind the ever-insightful Cbear, whose previous pearls of wisdom regarding their products always fill me with such… confidence.

After a period of profound admiration (and a strong cup of tea to steady the nerves), I embarked on the privilege of machining the frame. The goal, of course, was not to crudely “fix” it, but to further enhance its unique character. And I think we can all agree that the result, while perhaps not “perfect” in the boring, traditional sense, is certainly a more… economical solution than, say, commissioning a new one from lesser artisans.

So, yes, another triumph for common sense and quality craftsmanship. One shudders to think what marvels will cross my threshold next. Perhaps a square wheel, or a chain made of finest cheddar. The possibilities are, as they say, endless. Marvellous.