Expansion to the wild western United States was taking hold in the mid-1800s. Lest we forget, "Washington is not a place to live in. The rents are high, the food is bad, the dust is disgusting and the morals are deplorable. Go West, young man, go West and grow up with the country." Powerful words stated by Horace Greeley. Yes, that Horace Greeley; gentleman from none other than my home state, New Hampshire. Earlier that century, Lewis and Clark set off across our great land in search of water passage connecting the Atlantic to Pacific. (Spoiler alert: we don't cross the United States by boat.) Undaunted Courage is a fantastic book chronicling their adventure and I strongly recommend everyone gives it a read. If mid-190th century East Coasters only knew that the west coast looked like the above Malibu coast, they probably would have traveled even sooner.Fast forward to modern times, I woke up at the ghastly hour of 3am in order to make my 6am flight last week, then flew across the continent watching television and sipping coffee at 35,000 feet, making the voyage in just about as much time as it would take Meriweather (Lewis) and William (Clark) to set up camp or hunt a buffalo.I traveled west to debut the Cannondale Slate. To the untrained eye, one might see a cyclocross frame paired up with a suspension fork. There's some truth to that. To the slightly more informed observer, one will notice wide tires on a 650b wheel, spot the sweet 1x SRAM drivetrain featuring an enormous range 11-42 cassette in the rear, perhaps see the meaty hydrolic disc brakes. Yup, yes, and yup again. Examining the bike in a stationary position in person, holding it, pumping the brakes and spinning the cranks, two people next to each other will have two starkly opposing thoughts: one thinks it's an over-built road bike and the other thinks it's an under-built mountain bike. (A third would chime in saying it's a Franken-cross-mobile.)

Talk is cheap, yo. Those who can, do. Those who can't, just sit around talking about bikes. It's time to ride. Fellow New Englander, Tim Johnson and I spearheaded the fun as we rolled out on the PCH. As our formidable peloton of cool dudes set off south, a passing car without a second thought would assume we're spinning along two-by-two on a standard road ride. Ha, if they only knew the truth of our madness. Adequately warmed up, soon after entering Malibu it was time to turn left and head uphill. As the road points upward, what's the first thing I notice? Despite the 42c tires and a frame that's robust aluminum, this bike floats uphill. Close your eyes as you pedal your heart out, and you'll think you're on a road machine. If you, however, care about your health and then proceed to open your eyes, eventually you look down and see this burly, handsome beast below you -- Lefty fork and the big ol' tires are a notable derivations from the norm -- and all you can think is: Nutty. This bikes nutty, I declare! Upon reaching the summit, we regroup, listen to master of ceremonies Timmy J. wax poetic about toying with tire pressure, and with jittery anticipation, we begin the shred session. Aaaaaand go. I then changed my socks, removed my cap, (perhaps saw the calendar flip one day), saw my happy meter go from here to HERE, and henceforth we ripped. I remember this point in the day vividly. It's around about here in the day that our smiles went from grins to full blown ear to ear. Ahh yes, after linking a bunch of consecutive miles of dirt, it was then back on to the tarmac. It was then here in the day that our stoke factor piqued to eleven. And that's what is great about this bike: it fits the bill anywhere -- on road, off road, or the fireroads in between. There are two places where the Slate distinguishes itself as one of a kind. After these four media days, Tim and I rode our Slates on the dauntingly speedy Simi Ride, which is arguably the fastest, most aggressive weekly training ride in the country. With a flurry of attacks going uphill, downhill, and on the flats, the Slate holds her own with confidence. With it's 42c tires, the bike is glued to the pavement especially on twisty curvy descents so you're 45 degrees to the ground without a worry at all. Next with the group ride complete, it's at the junction of going home or ripping off road for a few more hours that the Slate screams, "There's nothing out there like me!"Truth be told, the Slate is the future of bike riding. Ostensibly it has a hard time fitting into any one definitive category, but in truth it's the single bike that every cyclist needs. Christmas is coming...  All photo documentation of our super fun few days is courtesy of Jesse Carmody.