KATEGORIE

Fahrräder

TEXT

Tom Owen

FOTOS

John Watson

Medusa Cycles – besser, als in einer Baumwollspinnerei zu arbeiten.

Ein Badass sein und seine Vorfahren ehren.

Medusa Cycles ist ein Einzelkämpfer-Rahmenbauer aus Manchester, England. Der Gründer, Pete Skelton, ist – wie die meisten, die sich für dieses Handwerk entscheiden – ein lebenslanger Radfahrer, der ganz natürlich seinen Weg in das Geschäft mit dem Fahrradbau fand.

Der Name Medusa soll die Freiheit symbolisieren, die Fahrräder bieten (Abbildungen der schlangenhaarigen Gestalt aus der griechischen Mythologie wurden zur Darstellung von Freiheit genutzt und waren bei französischen Revolutionären beliebt). Fahrräder von Medusa Cycles weisen oft auch eine unkonventionelle Erscheinung auf, ganz im Sinne ihrer klassischen

Namensgeberin; Skelton hat in der Vergangenheit gesagt, dass ihn der Wunsch antrieb, Rahmen zu bauen, die die gängige Vorstellung davon, wie ein Fahrrad auszusehen hat, herausfordern. Skelton sagt auch, Medusa sei zweifellos „ein Badass“ gewesen – was ebenso gut ein Grund ist, sein Unternehmen nach ihr zu benennen wie jeder andere.

Um tiefer in die Ursprünge, das Ethos und die Frage einzutauchen, warum Rahmenbau – trotz seiner Schattenseiten – immer noch besser ist, als in einer Baumwollspinnerei zu arbeiten, sprach Brooks kurz nach der Bespoked 2026 mit Skelton.

Wie war die Stimmung bei der Bespoked dieses Mal?

Ich fand, dass die Energie sich etwas von den Vorjahren unterschied, aber auf eine gute Art! Ich habe die Locations 2024 und 2025 geliebt, aber der Ort in diesem Jahr hatte einen ganz eigenen Charme, der mich sehr angesprochen hat.

Ich liebe Manchester, es ist meine Heimat, aber ich habe das Gefühl, dass die Fahrrad-Community in London unglaublich lebendig ist und das auch richtig nach außen trägt. Es fühlt sich so an, als würde die Nische der handgefertigten Fahrräder wirklich geschätzt und gefördert, besonders von Menschen ähnlichen Alters oder jünger als ich. Das gibt mir Hoffnung für die Zukunft des Handwerks.
Wie war die Stimmung bei der Bespoked dieses Mal?

Ich fand, dass die Energie sich etwas von den Vorjahren unterschied, aber auf eine gute Art! Ich habe die Locations 2024 und 2025 geliebt, aber der Ort in diesem Jahr hatte einen ganz eigenen Charme, der mich sehr angesprochen hat.

Ich liebe Manchester, es ist meine Heimat, aber ich habe das Gefühl, dass die Fahrrad-Community in London unglaublich lebendig ist und das auch richtig nach außen trägt. Es fühlt sich so an, als würde die Nische der handgefertigten Fahrräder wirklich geschätzt und gefördert, besonders von Menschen ähnlichen Alters oder jünger als ich. Das gibt mir Hoffnung für die Zukunft des Handwerks.
What’s the first frame you ever built and where is it today?

The first frame I ever built was made out of the tubes from a scrap Peugeot Premier frame.I chopped up the tubes and re-mitred them according to a badly-executed drawing I made. I made my own jig from some cheap aluminium extrusion and brazed it all together in my dad’s small garage. I had to keep the acetylene bottle a secret from my mum, as she would not have been happy to have such a volatile fuel stored in the cluttered garage.

The end result was a disaster. Either my drawing or tube measurements were wrong because the ends of the cranks were almost touching the floor. But, onwards and upwards, and I saw no reason to give up. The frame still lives at my mum and dad’s; maybe one day l’ll remedy it!
When you’re designing a frame, are you thinking as an engineer, designer or artist?

There is definitely a bit of all three going on in my frame designs. Every feature I include has some sort of reasoning behind it, but if a feature gives an artistic look, then that’s a bonus. Because I work mainly with silver solder and brass, I feel like I have more scope to join tubes how I want – the lower temperatures involved are kinder to the tubes and lend themselves well to bilaminate construction. This gives me a good platform to mitre tubes together in interesting ways, giving a sculptural result.

Knowing some fundamentals in metallurgy influences my design choices, but a bit of OCD also plays its part; I always like to join a slimmer tube to a wider tube, and if I can find a way to avoid joining two tubes together of the same or similar size, I will do. At the end of the day, the bike is a beautifully simple machine, and it lends itself well to creativity, so why not do something a bit different if you have the tools?

The painting side of building a bike frame is an area that I feel is predominantly driven by the artistic part of my brain. I worked briefly as a traditional coach painter’s apprentice, where I learned how to use the brush, for both the base colour and the lettering. At the time I was working on old steam locomotives, the work was hard and the hours were long, but I definitely feel like it planted a seed and it definitely influenced how I finish my bike frames. I suppose it gives quite a particular, traditional look that suits the style of the frames I make.
What’s the first frame you ever built and where is it today?

The first frame I ever built was made out of the tubes from a scrap Peugeot Premier frame.I chopped up the tubes and re-mitred them according to a badly-executed drawing I made. I made my own jig from some cheap aluminium extrusion and brazed it all together in my dad’s small garage. I had to keep the acetylene bottle a secret from my mum, as she would not have been happy to have such a volatile fuel stored in the cluttered garage.

The end result was a disaster. Either my drawing or tube measurements were wrong because the ends of the cranks were almost touching the floor. But, onwards and upwards, and I saw no reason to give up. The frame still lives at my mum and dad’s; maybe one day l’ll remedy it!
When you’re designing a frame, are you thinking as an engineer, designer or artist?

There is definitely a bit of all three going on in my frame designs. Every feature I include has some sort of reasoning behind it, but if a feature gives an artistic look, then that’s a bonus. Because I work mainly with silver solder and brass, I feel like I have more scope to join tubes how I want – the lower temperatures involved are kinder to the tubes and lend themselves well to bilaminate construction. This gives me a good platform to mitre tubes together in interesting ways, giving a sculptural result.

Knowing some fundamentals in metallurgy influences my design choices, but a bit of OCD also plays its part; I always like to join a slimmer tube to a wider tube, and if I can find a way to avoid joining two tubes together of the same or similar size, I will do. At the end of the day, the bike is a beautifully simple machine, and it lends itself well to creativity, so why not do something a bit different if you have the tools?

The painting side of building a bike frame is an area that I feel is predominantly driven by the artistic part of my brain. I worked briefly as a traditional coach painter’s apprentice, where I learned how to use the brush, for both the base colour and the lettering. At the time I was working on old steam locomotives, the work was hard and the hours were long, but I definitely feel like it planted a seed and it definitely influenced how I finish my bike frames. I suppose it gives quite a particular, traditional look that suits the style of the frames I make.
What’s a moment you nearly gave up on a project?

So far, I have always managed to keep faith through all my projects, no matter how many things have gone wrong. But, there have been many times I have said to myself, ‘this will be my last frame’.

I love building bikes, but sometimes there are sacrifices that need to be made to pursue a fledgling business. I still work full-time in my day job as a bike mechanic and have also spent time working a second job on top of that, in order to keep afloat. Sometimes I sit down after a 75 hour week and wonder what it is for. The reality of working oneself into mental illness and remaining drowned in debt is often impossible to stomach. But after snapping out of it, and remembering all the positive feedback I have received from customers and admirers, I find the energy to put my head back on.

A bit of pride helps too, and as someone from a working class background, I almost feel obliged not to give up to do my ancestors justice. This has got to be better than working 80 hours a week in a cotton mill!
What qualities make a good frame builder?

Determination and attention to detail!
Finally, tell us about one of the bikes you brought to Bespoked.

One bike I brought was a bit of a first for me. A huge-tyred bikepacking rig, I decided to call it the ‘Medusa Kangal’, after the breed of large dog, commonly seen roaming the Anatolian Steppe of Turkey. The design of the bike was influenced by my time on the previously mentioned overland bike trip to India. There were many points of that journey where I dreamed of having a bike with thicker tyres, more capable of soaking up the rough surfaces encountered in Central Asia.

I built the Kangal up with 29 x 3.0 tyres and a Brooks Flyer sprung saddle to achieve optimum comfort. I decided to use this frame as a chance to go a bit wild with the tubing, so as a result, you’ll see a double toptube, bent downtube, and numerous curved bracing tubes, plus the obvious elevated chainstays for extra mud clearance. The fork is also my first attempt at a half-truss design and includes an integrated front bag mount. I decided to paint the bike in a colour scheme inspired by the back drop of the Pamir Highway in the Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan region. A stoney grey/ khaki colour meets a bright blue to mimic the rugged Pamir mountains and vivid blue sky. Highlights of white give the impression of snow.

medusa-cycles.com

Brooks extends a special thanks to John Watson of the Radavist for the images used in this article.