Crank Bros Iodine 3 Saddle

I’ll not beat about the bush – I was sceptical about this saddle when I was handed it to review. It’s rather white, and to my mind it’s somewhat… uh… ‘singular’ in appearance. It has a distinctive profile, it is very tall, the chromoly rails can be replaced and the whole thing is…well, kind of peculiar looking. So I was expecting this review to rather write itself. However…

As I’ve mentioned, this is a funny shaped thing. And it’s a bit portly at 282g. So I am surprised (and relieved) to report that the Iodine3 is extremely comfortable. It’s made in Italy, apparently, with Italian leather and Crank Bros has sufficient faith in it to give it a five-year warranty. The saddle is spongy, but in such a way as not to interfere or stop you moving about on it. The front of the saddle is a good deal softer than I’m used to, but it’s still very acceptable on steep climbs. The saddle has a nicely scalloped midline to safeguard your plumbing, it’s easy to drop off the back if things get gnarly, and there are tough Cordura inserts for when the gnar turns to aargh. It’s an excellent place to spend a few hours.

Novelist Guy De Maupassant so hated the Eiffel Tower that he went there for lunch every day. When asked why, he replied that it was the only place in Paris from which he couldn’t see the Tower.

Overall: You won’t notice how funny the Iodine3 looks when you’re using it, but your arse will thank you.

Barney

Review Info

Barney Marsh

Barney Marsh takes the word ‘career’ literally, veering wildly across the road of his life, as thoroughly in control as a goldfish on the dashboard of a motorhome. He’s been, with varying degrees of success, a scientist, teacher, shop assistant, binman and, for one memorable day, a hospital laundry worker. These days, he’s a dad, husband, guitarist, and writer, also with varying degrees of success. He sometimes takes photographs. Some of them are acceptable. Occasionally he rides bikes to cast the rest of his life into sharp relief. Or just to ride through puddles. Sometimes he writes about them. Bikes, not puddles. He is a writer of rongs, a stealer of souls and a polisher of turds. He isn’t nearly as clever or as funny as he thinks he is.

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