Color Me Nauseous: Cycling's Worst Paint Jobs

As internet galleries prove, there's simply no limit to how ugly you can make a bike. All it takes is some patience, a few cans of spraypaint, and a sense of childhood neglect that has festered into adulthood and sublimated itself into a tendency to make desperate bids for attention. Fortunately, though, over the years various manufacturers have made our jobs much easier by providing "pre-uglified" bikes direct from the factory or workshop. Of course, the cosmos of bicycle ugliness is simply too vast and gag-inducingly majestic to capture here. But here are just a few manufacturers who had the temerity to don a blindfold, pick up the ugly stick, and swing at the pinata of good taste with reckless abandon:

Klein

Before Klein was subsumed by the Great Trek Bicycle Making Corporation, they were responsible for some of the most magnificently hideous paint jobs the cycling world had ever seen. This pre-Trek beauty is a stunning example. It literally brings tears to my eyes, though I don't know if that's because of the bright colors, nostalgia for times gone by, or the fact that the thing may still be exuding paint fumes to this day that are strong enough to be smelled through a computer monitor. In any case, the last time I saw something like this I bought it from a truck and it melted all down my arm. Magnifique, Gary, magnifique.

Landshark

Klein may have been a giant in the world of ugly bikes, but Landshark is ugly bikes. John Slawta's paint jobs articulate an ugliness that other bikes can only allude to. Spraypainting wet cardboard in a damp room only begins to convey the types of designs we're talking about here. Dropping the rotting corpse of Jerry Garcia from a skyscraper and then photographing the results comes a bit closer. The above photo is a typical, but by no means exceptional, example. I believe the color scheme is called "Motion Sickness."

Oh, yeah, they're not just for dentists and lawyers either. They look great as fixed-gears too:

Colnago

Ah, yes, the maestro of mutilation: Colnago. Every other maker of ugly bikes owes this storied marque a debt of gratitude. Colnago's paint schemes are the very embodiment of professional cycling, in that both are essentially big knots of revolting colors competing with each-other for your attention. And certainly no instrument--no paintbrush, chisel, nor hunk of charcoal--has been responsible for more works of fine art than the airbrush, which Colnago wields with stunning effect. In fact, in the art world the very word "airbrush" is synonymous with exquisite taste. If the technology had existed at the time, Michelangelo would almost certainly have painted the Sistine Chapel with one. Finally, each frame's top tube is graced with that delightfully whimsical image of a cyclist as seen from above. Bent over his handlebars, his shoulders hunched with effort, it kind of looks like he's vomiting.

Trek

The Great Trek Bicycle Making Corporation knows everything, and one of the things they know is that ugly is not for everyone. That's why they introduced "Project One." I don't know whether or not this still exists, but in any case it allowed customers to express their individuality by choosing from a limited number of ghastly designs, including flames and lightning bolts. Essentially it catered to the same dubious tastes that drive 50 year-old suburban accountants to buy custom Harleys and wear leather vests and skull-and-crossbone bandanas. Project One lacks the ebullient ugliness of those early Kleins, the organic ugliness of the Landsharks, and the rococo ugliness of the Colnagos. Instead, it's robotic, mass-produced ugliness--which in a soul-crushing way makes it the ugliest of all.

Cannondale

For a mainstream bicycle manufacturer, Cannondale's paint schemes tend to be relatively sedate. Until they get in bed with an Italian superstar. That's when the hair comes down, the gloves come off, and the bikes get disgusting. An Italian, an airbrush, and a few bottles of vino is a recipe for il disastro col formaggio. In all fairness, you were only able to actually buy one of these bikes below, but highlights over the years include:

The Fabio Sacchi Tiger Freak Bike;

The Gilberto Simoni Spider-dork Bike;

and of course the Limited Edition Tricolore Dork-tacular. (As ridden by Damiano Cunego and...Gilberto Simoni.)

Orbea

Lastly, I'd like to give Orbea honorable mention. While lower-key than some, this Basque collective is nonetheless an inspiring example of teamwork in the service of ugliness. They may lack the audacity of some of the other manufacturers I mentioned, but they make up for it by blending their euro-flash paint schemes with bulging, swollen, and distended tubing. The result is a kind of three-dimensional ugliness you don't really get with the other manufacturers--the vileness really pops. In fact, in some way I think Orbea represent the ugliness of the future. And like the best ugly bikes, they will stand the ugly test of time by only growing more offensive and dated as time goes on.