Test-Riding Lidl-Trek's Art-Inspired Tour De France Race Bike

Forbes

5 days ago

For the 2025 Tour de France, Lidl-Trek is racing bikes finished in an eye-catching Matisse-inspired ... More livery.
Waking up early on the West Coast through the first few weeks of July, the excitement of watching Tour de France stages always helps boost the caffeine hit of each espresso doppio while I prepare for the day ahead. This year, a seemingly inevitable repeat of absolute dominance by Tadej Pogačar only grows more certain with each passing stage, as the Slovenian phenom's unbelievable power, talent and racecraft look sure to cement at least a few more race wins and the eventual Maillot Jaune when the final sprint concludes in Paris come July 27.
Naturally, Tour de France commentators therefore need to turn elsewhere in the search for drama throughout every morning's hours-worth of television coverage—and in the sprinter's race this year, relative newcomer Jonathan Milan aims to take advantage of an untimely Stage 3 crash by 2023 green jersey winner Jasper Philipsen. Milan snagged his first Tour win for Stage 8, but what caught my eye, other than breathtaking speed, is the stunning Matisse-inspired livery on the bikes ridden by his entire Lidl-Trek team, including American workhorse Quinn Simmons.
Speckled in paint, not sweat, at the top of Santa Barbara's infamous Gibraltar climb.
Shortly into the Tour de France, Trek offered to send me a bike to experience the pinnacle of modern carbon-fiber and aerodynamic technology. And even just unpacking it from a heavily padded box, the Project One frameset finished in the modern Matisse motif—with perhaps a bit of a Mondrian color scheme thrown in for good measure—definitely didn't disappoint. Trek shipped the bike partially assembled, so I spent plenty of time handling the components while reinstalling the aero bottles and cages, as well as the front wheel and integrated handlebar/stem.
The livery dubbed 'couler' almost lends a matte textural element to what would otherwise be a smooth carbon-fiber finish. For the drivetrain, the bike sports Sram's electronically shifted Red Axs 12-speed groupset, with zero visible cables controlling the 48/35T chainrings and 10/33T cassette. The crankset features a Quarq power meter built in, and overall I only spied the last two inches or so of each line running to the front and rear disc brake calipers. Trek's subsidiary Bontrager naturally provided the carbon-fiber Aeolus RSL 51 wheels shod in 28c Pirelli P Zero Race tubeless tires.
Technically a Trek Madone SLR 9 Gen 8, the "couler" will fit tires up to 32mm.
Prepping for a Long Climb
Of course, at the actual Tour de France, racers will switch their setups in wild fashion day to day, varying from full disc wheels to single-chainring groupsets and even skipping bar tape or frame paint entirely. But for me, the physical design of the Madone's 'IsoFlow' seat tube and top tube intersection brought on serious curiosity. In addition to the rest of the frame's stiffness, compliance and whether or not I might actually notice any gains in aero efficiency from riding the same frame as the Tour de France's potential green jersey winner this year (assuming the apparently inimitable Pogačar decides against going all-out himself, that is).
I planned to ride the couler up Santa Barbara's famous Gibraltar climb, a 6.16-mile quad scorcher that snakes up the Santa Ynez range at an average 8.2-percent grade. The current king of the mountain time on Strava? None other than 2019 Tour winner Egan Bernal, who in 2018 logged a ridiculous 27:12 effort for the 2,551-foot ascent. Of course, this Trek frame prioritizes aerodynamics at speed versus pursuing lightness at all costs in the name of conquering steep climbs, but I still wanted to establish a baseline, so out came the Park Tools DS-1 bicycle scale. I spun on my Speedplay pedals, mounted my Garmin Edge 540, slipped on my Silca Mattone saddlebag packed to the brim with an inner tube, two CO2 cartridges and a nozzle, a multitool and my trusty Pedro's tire levers. All in, ready to ride other than empty water bottles, the Trek weighed 18 pounds 14 ounces. With just pedals and cages, the scale read only 16 pounds 13 ounces.
Strapping my Silca Mattone saddlebag beneath the carbon-fiber rails probably cost me a pound or so ... More of weight.
Those numbers sound paltry compared to the bikes I typically ride, an early-2000s LeMond titanium frame that I built up from scratch with full Campagnolo 11-speed Super Record and Bora WTO 45-millimeter tubeless wheels, or the Time RXRS Ulteam I built with Campagnolo 12-speed Super Record and Mavic Cosmic Pro Carbon UST 40-millimeter tubeless wheels—the latter bike arguably representing the pinnacle of lugged-carbon construction maybe 12 years ago.
The Trek's geometry presented a challenge due to the seatpost design. I needed the taller 190-millimeter seat mast, but it wouldn't match the Matisse livery. Those sharp angles at the seat tube and top tube intersection limit the physical adjustability, however, so I wound up riding with the seat about 20 millimeters lower than I typically prefer. That's not a huge number on paper, but for road cyclists dialing in long-distance performance, even 5 millimeters makes a big difference. And headed up the hill, Gibraltar quickly turned into a much more difficult climb than expected, probably because I pushed too hard for the 1,000 feet of climbing or so before actually arriving at the start of the official segment.
Disc or rim brakes? I'm still not sold, but can admit that disc brakes make me more confident on ... More steep descents.
Unbelievably Stiff, Without Sacrificing Comfort
Those rough Santa Barbara roads revealed where Trek scrounged up so much more compliance than typical of any other monocoque carbon frame I've ridden (so far). Clearly, that seatpost must not only improve aero, but also damping through the frame itself. And yet, as I got deep into the climb and started standing up out of the saddle to stomp out watts on sections of 12 to 14-percent grades, I also noticed almost indiscernible flex at the bottom bracket, indicating minimized power losses and inefficiency.
The Sram electronic drivetrain worked well, for the most part. The integrated power meter turned on quickly and connected to my Garmin every time (despite the numbers reading lower than my ego desperately craved, anyhow). And the rear cassette shifted moderately quick, while spinning mostly in silence other in the biggest sprockets. On my own bike, I'd run Silca Synergetic to prioritize smooth shifting and silence rather than the dry lube on this drivetrain. Regardless, I did experience one bad moment when the rear derailleur shifted to the tallest gear at the worst possible moment without me touching anything, and throughout, the longer hoods and levers lacked some of the ergonomic comfort of my Campagnolo components back at home.
Tour de France riders will summit the hardest climbs of the year in the big chainring, but I needed ... More every last climbing gear to make it up Gibraltar.
As the road tilted steeper and steeper ahead of me, Sram's climbing gears helped me keep the legs pumping. I had hoped to crack the hour mark, at this tail end of my fitness journey, but ended up a few minutes over by the time I reached the end of Strava's official segment (plus a few hundred yards, just to be safe). Time to catch the breath, eat a Clif Bloks Margarita chew (or two) and rip back down the hill. I started out conscientiously slowly, making sure that nothing had worked loose on the bike's inaugural long ride, as I readjusted myself to the chassis geometry, braking stability and aero while pedaling at high rpms.
At first, I found the Trek slightly touchy while descending, not quite as smooth as expected given the integrated handlebar-stem and long hoods. Usually, longer stems increase stability, but otherwise the bike absorbed every bump and crack quite well, as gobs of grip from the Pirelli tires (tubeless, so inflated to 70 psi) inspired more and more confidence the further and further I started leaning over.
Not just for aero: The mind-bending IsoFlow seatpost absorbs bumps amazingly, but makes bike fitment ... More more of a challenge.
Rinse and Repeat
A few miles down the hill and the brakes started to heat up, squealing in protest each time I hauled down speed. My mind adjusted to the bike, too, and by purposefully throwing some additional weight onto my outside foot, I found more stability and speed. This kind of a technical descent leaves little time to focus on aerodynamics, however, but once I reached sea level again next to the beach, despite the lactic burn still lingering in my quads, I almost started sailing in a heavy crosswind.
Then I went and did the whole ride again two days later, and took almost 40 seconds off my previous time. Chalk that up to local knowledge, since I naturally felt less fresh the second time around without time for a recovery ride in between. But I also noticed once more that in Santa Barbara, road cyclists still wave to each other—a welcome respite from the growing indifference among devotees of aerobic suffering down in Los Angeles. Each day, multiple people asked me about the bike, curious to learn more about the eye-popping livery and confirm that I, surely, wouldn't be racing in the Tour de France.
Aero bottles and cages might help Jonathan Milan win a 1,940-watt sprint after four and a half hours ... More of racing, but tight cages and angled bottoms make life difficult for mere mortals.
For me, I spent my time with the Trek amazed at how far monocoque carbon-fiber bike frames have come over just the past few years. The newfound ability to mitigate prangy buzz while further stiffening and reducing flex around the crankset and chainstay definitely make a new bike tempting. For a racer, the whole package matters—for me, the ability to stay comfortable over the course of challenging rides, on something so clearly designed to maximize each and every last watt, matters just as much as the power and efficiency.
I'm still partial to my old Ti and lugged-carbon frames, exactly for that reason, as well as Campagnolo quality and mechanical shifting, if just to avoid having another two batteries to charge regularly (check Primož Roglič's shifting issue with a Sram front derailleur on Stage 4 this year, which may or may not have contributed to another former front-runner losing about half a minute to Pogačar). And yet, it's still hard to believe that in the Tour de France, where pure performance matters most, anything can get much better—or more striking—than this art-inspired frame from Trek's Project One custom bike department.