Last week I rhapsodized about the merits of joining a team, but there can still be a mystique in riding unattached: in taking on the entire peloton by yourself, in being the unknown factor from whom nobody else knows what to expect, in saying, “I write my own bylaws, thank you very much.”

And so it is that I introduce our first sponsor here at Chicago Bike Racing: Unattached Rider.

It’s a venture from a former Chicago bike racer and teammate of mine, Carlos Cabalu, who after spending a year in Philadelphia decided that the unattached rider deserved some better duds. He’s come up with an attractive, witty line of clothes that practically demands you throw that U.S. Postal kit into the rag bin and save the generic black jersey for the training rides.

If the line takes off, Unattached Rider could grow well beyond mere classy clothes and into a movement, and I couldn’t be happier to have helped with the launch.

This week I caught up with Cabalu, a freelance graphic artist, for some insight into what riding unattached means to him.

Why didn’t you join a team this year?
I couldn’t decide on one. None of the local teams had the vibe my last team gave off. In retrospect, that’s mostly because I didn’t start my racing career with 30 of their racers. I guess I was looking for a sense of immediate camaraderie when really they were strangers.

It helped to have joined XXX Racing-AthletiCo with a bunch of friends at the same time?
It sure did. A half-dozen of us goaded each other into joining. And at races it was easy to bond with the other Cat 5 racers because we were all terrified for our lives. At least I was. It was a good group.

I was looking for the same structure XXX had. Monthly meetings, clinics, coaching. The big teams around Philadelphia offered none of those. It seemed like you kinda just run into your teammates at the races.

But I don’t want to give the Philadelphia cycling community a bad reputation. I just didn’t understand the scene. In lieu of monthly meetings, people meet up during the group rides. There are over a dozen a week, each with a large attendance. Some rides have more sprints, some hills, one’s like a crit. So you get your training in. I just wasn’t clued in on that. It can be alienating being new to a city.

How did racing unattached differ from racing with a team?
This year it was hard to get motivated to train. `[Riding unattached,] you can be spontaneous. You can change your plans. You’re racing your own race.’There was no pressure to target races. There was no reason to get up to the front. Honestly, I found myself in the middle of the pack thinking “What am I doing here?”

I’ve yet to be a successful racer. The best that I could do in the past was to try and do my part. But without anyone to do any work for I was really lost.

Tim Krabbe writes about having secret alliances with other riders in “The Rider.” Did you ever befriend other unattached riders and collude together? “I won’t chase you if you won’t chase me.”
There’s always at least another rider going solo in my races. I bet if we were in a position to take action, we would’ve lent each other a hand. I mean, we’re not going to get help from anyone else. But usually I’m just sitting in the back trying to hang on.

Are you like me, in that you cheer whenever you check the results and see (Unattached) after first place? It’s like, “This dude wins without free Clif Bars or anyone blocking for him. Bad ass!”
Definitely. It’s more than a show of fitness. It’s a test of your will.

Explain that “will” part. Is there a statement being made when you ride unattached?
It’s easy to show up for a race when you know several of your teammates are going to be in the field. It’s a different story when you’ll be at the start all alone and everyone’s kinda ignoring you.

If you can get over the emotional obstacle of `I’d like [Unattached Rider] to achieve a level of infectious notoriety that the solo rider deserves.’feeling insignificant, it can be a driving force. You want to rub it in their faces. It sure sounds much cooler to have “forced your will onto the peloton” than to simply finish with the pack. Of course I’m still waiting for that day to come.

But are there advantages in being unattached? You can slip under the radar, for example. And although you say you miss the meetings of your old team, being unattached means you don’t have to go to so many darn meetings!
Racing becomes an entirely personal challenge. There is no obligation to race and no one is relying on you to be there, so when you show up at the line you better know why you’re there.

There is no one to coordinate with so you can make your move whenever you want. You can also take risks and make mistakes as it cripples no one else. You can be spontaneous. You can change your plans. You’re racing your own race.

And yes. Most of the time people don’t even notice you.

There are many perks to being on a team. I don’t deny that. In fact it’s a necessity to find success in the advanced categories. But at the 5’s and 4’s, you can do just fine on your own.

How did the Unattached Rider concept come about?
I can’t make up my mind if it was resilience or stubbornness. Or are they the same thing?

I had a bad season this year. I got shelled from every race. I blamed my solo status but realized it had nothing to do with it. I had lost fitness. I let myself go. I wanted a do-over. I needed to overcome this funk and not let joining a team take credit for it. And so… I got inspired to try to get out of the 4’s unattached.

Now that I found the conviction, I just needed the outfit. Kinda like Bruce Wayne when he decided to strike fear into the hearts of men.

Something my girlfriend said struck me. “No one really takes you seriously when you’re not wearing a kit, and that rubs off. You don’t take yourself seriously either.”

In fact, that’s your tag line: “Don’t be a Fred.” How do you define a “Fred”?
Well, there are two running definitions. One is the poser with the pro kit and the Orbea who rides on the trail every saturday at 15 mph. The other is the bearded touring cyclist in tube socks whom you only see from behind because he’s faster than you.

“Don’t be a Fred” applies to both of them, though in the context of the racing kit its more towards the latter.

Basically people with either too much money or not enough style. (CBR reminds readers that 1. There’s nothing wrong with tube socks. 2. Most of us started out as Freds, so be kind.)
Yes. But really that’s just the-over-the-top persona I’m trying to promote. I have no problems with the latter Fred. I ride lugged steel, with lights, and always have a full set of tools on me. The former Fred, however, is unforgivable.

“Don’t be a Fred.” is like saying “Dress like a racer” in a “Snap-into-a-Slim-Jim!” tone of voice.

Where do you see the Unattached Rider venture going?
Well, at the moment the concept is just a week old. In that time I slapped together some kits, polled about 75 people on the boards, put together the Web site and got the group order started. Technology is a wonderful thing, isn’t it?

I’m gonna take some time off and see how the group order develops. But in the near future I’d like to have a page serve as a portal to useful information for beginning racers. I also hope to put together a message board so unattached racers can coordinate. Perhaps even a directory of blogs. And maybe, just maybe, get race reports up when the season kicks into gear.

For now, it’s just a whacky little kit project.

Do you foresee getting enough Unattached Rider jerseys getting in circulation that eventually two strangers could meet at a race wearing the same kit and say: “You’re unattached. I’m unattached. Today we ride as a team!” Unattached Rider could wind up being the largest team in the world!
The best part about that is they can ride like they’re on a team, or not. And no one can anticipate it either way. It’s a wild card. Like a pick-up game of basketball. You show up not knowing who’s gonna be there. You don’t know who’s going to be on your team. And you don’t know if they’re any good.

I really like that “mystery rider” potential.
I’d be so glad to find another rider in the kit. It can happen. There are more of us than you think.

Of course, there’s a big unspoken perk of being on a team: the opportunity to meet women! This happens to have worked out handsomely for both of us. Perhaps “Unattached Rider” can take on a double meaning.
I’d have to design a jersey that says “SINGLE” out loud just for that purpose.

Back of the bibs would be a good spot for that. “If you can read this, you appear to be checking out my ass.”
Perhaps not appropriate for all bib sizes.

These would make great Christmas gifts. (Someone should get Tyler Hamilton one.) Do you expect your Sept. 23 order to be the last chance to get something for under the tree?
It might be. This current order delivers early in November.

We’ll have to see. The response after fulfilling the orders will dictate our next move. I’m hesitant to start another group order before we deliver this first batch without a snag.

Well, I for one hope it takes off.
Me too. I’d like it to achieve a level of infectious notoriety that the solo rider deserves. I’d like for spectators to say “Look! There goes an unattached rider!”