1996 U.S. Olympic Team GT Superbike
There are really two stories to be told about this bike. First there’s a bike review about the technical details and construction methods that’ll add up to what you see here. Second is the development story and what the Superbike represents.
Technically, this bike was (and really still is) a modern marvel. Many hours were spent in the GM wind tunnel perfecting the aerodynamics of this bike. Carbon fiber and aluminum construction methods were pushed to the limit (for the mid ’90’s). The head tube, with the fork running through it and some nylon bushings providing the headset function, is only one inch wide. The hubs and bottom bracket are half of the normal width for these parts. There are no seatstays. There is no top tube. Knobby protrusions like the seatpost and saddle clamps have been eliminated. I think the final number was 3.5 pounds of aerodynamic drag at 30 mph (about a third of the drag of a normal track bike).
I think there were about a dozen first generation Superbikes and prototypes, another dozen road time trial variants and eight of these “Superbike 2’s” built in total. They were all very custom and quirky. Of these track models, each one was built to fit a specific athlete (there was really no way to change the way the bikes fit beyond a half inch here or there), so measurements were taken like a tailor was going to sew these bikes together. Without skateboard deck tape on the ends of the handlebar it was nearly impossible to maintain any grip on the bike. In order to change the gear ratios, we mechanics had to have a tackle box filled with dozens of little steel plates, each plate with a hole drilled in different spots for the axle bolts to tension the chain and fasten the rear wheel through them.
All of these bikes were really aerodynamic and they gave the athletes who raced them every confidence that they were competing aboard state of the art technology.
…And then in the year 2000 the UCI changed the rules regarding bike design so now these bikes can’t be raced in any sanctioned event and will just gather dust…
So that’s the story of this bike. The story about the Superbike program is something else.
The Superbike story started with a very American belief in technology. Special bikes were built for the ’84 Olympics, and the U.S. won quite a few medals. Then at the ’92 Olympics in Barcelona, an unknown rider from Great Britain won the individual pursuit gold aboard a very special bike from Lotus. The results from these two Olympic games made people think that results are all about the bike.
If you start with a belief in technology over the human element, this of course makes sense.
Technology company EDS (anyone remember H. Ross Perot?) came on board as the main sponsor for USA Cycling in the 1990’s. With a lot of fanfare and tons of money EDS launched “Project 96”, a.k.a. the superbike program. They purchased wind tunnel time, paid for consultants, materials and lots of prototypes.
This was supposed to be a secret program with bikes unveiled at the Olympics (the athletes didn’t really get to ride their bikes until the month before the opening ceremony). When the bikes were revealed in Atlanta, however, nobody was shocked. In fact, the French, German and Australian teams were riding fairly similar bikes.
See, the funny part was that EDS and GT bicycles had actually had press releases to announce their secret bike program (not a great way to keep a secret if you ask me). While French component company Mavic, who was manufacturing most of the components, promised not to tell anyone about the super-secret wheels and bike parts, they of course provided the French Olympic team with identical equipment.
Some of the press releases alternately labeled Project 96 as a “$40 million program” or reported that the Superbikes were $5 million bikes. Now, I’m pretty sure that the dollar amounts were inflated or at least they were totals for a whole sponsorship package where the money was spread out to cover operating expenses of the National Team, but you can imagine what happened with that kind of press. Foreign teams thought they were in an arms race, so they took another look at their bikes. Our own athletes (and mechanics, and soigneurs) were iritated by the press coverage. We all thought that if millions of dollars were coming into the team, how come we were still struggling with poverty while the team was spending huge sums on equipment?
Two things were certain: One is that any technical advantage and the element of surprise was lost over a year prior to the games, and two is that money that could have been spent on athlete development and team support instead went into the bikes.
Well, maybe the money didn’t go all into the bikes, but it sure didn’t get spent on the athletes. Let’s talk coaching. There were some great coaches on the U.S. team in those days, but Craig Griffin, the coach for the endurance track team, was awful. Craig got a big share of the budget for the endurance track program but failed to produce. Craig was directly responsible for injuring Rebecca Twigg prior to the ’95 World Championships, and he was at least partly responsible for her quitting the Atlanta Olympics on the eve of her event. Craig’s inability to identify and nurture new talent resulted in the U.S. team relying on a 42 year old man for the Olympic individual pursuit (Kent Bostick was a great racer but was he really the fastest guy we could have found?), and zero medals by any of his athletes.
Erin Hartwell, part of the track sprint program (coached by Andje Bek) earned a silver medal in the kilometer time trial. His was the only medal that could be linked in any way to the Superbike program, and one of just three medals awarded to U.S. cyclists at the Atlanta Games.
Back at the ’84 Olympics we had “super’ bikes that were raced by some of the best athletes we’ve ever had in this country. Davis Phinney (who has the most pro wins of any U.S. rider in history), Connie Carpenter, Alexi Grewal, Rebecca Twigg, Steve Hegg, Harvey Nitz, Ron Kiefel and Roy Knickman made up the backbone of the U.S. team. They were such a talented bunch of riders that the bikes, in my opinion, were inconsequential. Oh yeah, and the Soviets stayed home.
What about the ’92 games? The reality in Barcelona was that the super-fast Lotus track bike was raced by Chris Boardman. Chris Boardman was an unknown rider at the time, but he was on a path to becoming a world champion, yellow jersey wearer, hour record holder and one of the greatest time trialists in cycling history.
I’m sure it’s a mistake we’ll continue to make every four years, but if anyone from the Olympic committee ever asks you your opinion, just remind them that it’s not all about the bike.