Dear Campagnolo
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I’ve resisted sending you this note, for decades really. For the longest time I’ve felt it might be too ballsy, or even seem like it comes from a place of self-absorption. As I watch the years on the calendar change, I no longer care (as much) how my position looks.
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I’ve used your parts since forever. With the exception of some of my cx team’s bicycles, Campagnolo has been the only brand I’ve ever held in my hands, or promoted. Lately, this has been harder to do. So what has changed? Perhaps everything.
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Look at this image. It’s an example of the alliance you had with my trade. Not with the industry at large – but with framebuilding. You relied, heavily I might add, on your relationship with my peers and our predecessors.
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The halcyon days of your brand’s dominance in racing circles are part of the past. My own trade has also become a shadow of what it once was. But we’re all still here, and we still come to the workbench daily to make fine bicycles. And we need you.
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I’m aware that it’s no longer “it’s Campagnolo’s world, and everyone else just lives in it.” That ship sailed long ago. I urge you to remember your roots, and the people who made the bicycles onto which your parts were hung. And the successes we had together.
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Please continue to make components for us. Please continue to innovate for the frames produced by the hand-made sector. Please don’t (ever) forget that your brand was built on the shoulders of people who still demand N+1 attention to detail.
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These words aren’t about nostalgia. They’re not written to encourage you to retool and bring back the componentry of Tullio’s generation. I am sending them to remind you of the strong synergy we all once shared. Don’t let that slip away.
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Thank you
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Richard Sachs Cycles
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