Officine Mattio Lemma 2.0 £10,200 7.3kg
David Bradford tests a lesser-known Italian dream machine
Being CW’S fitness editor, rather than a tech writer, I don’t often get the chance to pick and choose among the crème de la crème of bicycles. The parcels that arrive for me tend to contain nutritional powders or massage balls rather than high-modulus carbon. This has rarely reduced me to tears, but it leaves me curious: what would it be like to ride one of those astonishingly (to me) unaffordable bikes targeted at those lucky tech journalists and even luckier few who have five-figure bike budgets?
So when an email arrived from Officine Mattio (OM) detailing the brand’s latest top-of-the-range models, I sensed my chance had come. Possibly as a remnant from my motorcycling days, I have a thing for boutique Italian brands – those offering not just something special but something exclusive. Few UK riders have heard of OM, it being a relatively new niche brand, which added to its appeal. If I was going to have the privilege to test a top-spec bike, I didn’t want a flashy me-too product off a Far East conveyor belt; I wanted a lovingly crafted, rarefied bike that only those in the know would appreciate.
You can customise your own frame geometry for an additional €550. Since the Lemma’s frame is not a monocoque made with a mould, each tube is individually cut and mitred according to body measurements, and then ‘wrapped’ together with the others.
This meant my first task was to provide a list of measurements: torso, legs – inside and outside – shoulders, and arms. The bike that arrived was OM’S flagship Lemma 2.0, set up, in theory, precisely to suit my physical dimensions: a size 560mm frame with 73º head angle and 73.5º seat angle, with a wheelbase of 993mm.
The Lemma has a special significance in the OM range, as it was the first frame created by the brand upon its foundation two years ago. It takes its name, Lemma, from a hill located around 20km north-west of the firm’s HQ in Cuneo in the north-west of Italy. As the 2.0 designation implies, this is version two. Faithful to the purebred Italian theme, the frame is made in Genoa.
My first impressions were mixed. Don’t get me wrong, the Lemma 2.0 is a very handsome bike with beautiful clean lines, its brake hoses and the seat clamp neatly tucked away in the frame. But I wasn’t feeling swept away. The understated finish of my test model, plain carbon apart from a simple block of dark red paint on the top tube and down tube, along with the frame’s classic, conventional shape, left me feeling almost guiltily underwhelmed. Yes, I’d wanted a bike that was subtly exceptional, but this was taking stealth arguably too far. To put it bluntly, I wasn’t sure that those who saw me on this bike – and let’s face it, bikes like this are partly about being seen – would realise that, if they wished to emulate me, it would cost them not a penny short of £10,200.
The frame is made from Toray T800 carbon. You might expect the top-rate T1000 at this price point but that’s hardly
“Each tube is individually cut and mitred according to body measurements”
a criticism because, as we know, stiffness isn’t everything. Despite using lowergrade carbon, the brand has managed to keep the frame’s weight down to 900g (claimed), which is still light.
The seatpost and bars are from Deda’s Elementi range: Superleggero post, and Superzero bars, the latter with an aeroprofile top section. Relatively modest offerings at this price point, but there are plentiful up-speccing options if you have the budget. As for the wheels on the bike I tested, they were OM’S own Cinquanta with deep-section rims, fitted with Pirelli P Zero Road 28mm tyres – there is enough frame clearance to fit up to 35mm.
The ride
The first thing I noticed was how quickly the Lemma gets up to speed. Thanks to its low weight, this bike accelerates phenomenally quickly, faster than any bike I’d ridden before. I rarely needed to change into the small ring of the 50/34 Dura-ace chainset – again, you could specify racier gearing if you wanted it.
On my maiden ride on my local country lanes, I was going faster than I realised when, from out of nowhere, a preposterously wide-tyred tractor came barrelling at me full pelt with not an inch of tarmac to spare on either side, forcing me brake hard. The Dura-ace hydraulic disc brakes provided reassuringly progressive stopping power, being neither ‘grabby’ nor ferociously strong.
It’s difficult to judge how aerodynamic a bike is without the benefit of wind tunnel testing, but the Lemma did not feel quite as wind-cheating as the Pearson Minegoestoeleven I tested recently. The OM would likely win the drag race up to speed, and would also have the edge on the climbs, but is not cut out for pure TT duties.
The next thing I noticed was just how well this bike fitted me. The position, on the drops and the hoods, felt ideal, with just the right amount of bend in my arms and flex in my back.
The Lemma’s geometry, set up for my measurements, inspired confidence in its handling, though on my bumpy local lanes it did at times feel slightly too stiff – admittedly, this was partly down to the 28mm clinchers being firmer than the 32mm tubeless tyres I was used to on my day-to-day bike. Similarly, the way the deep-section rims caught gusts of wind was an unsettling sensation that, for me, outweighed the small aero gain they provided.
On my first ride back after my recent back injury – unrelated to this bike – some thorny hedge trimmings caused the first double puncture of my cycling career: both tyres hissing in tandem. At that moment, I longed to be back on my regular bike with its sealantfilled tubeless tyres. That said, it would of course be possible to opt for a tubeless set-up in the build process.
Like the racy tyres, the lightweight Selle Italia SLR Boost saddle wasn’t quite right for me and never felt comfortable even after extensive tweaking.
On smooth roads, the Lemma was fast and responsive and a privilege to ride, but as a day-to-day bike it just wouldn’t make sense for me.
VERDICT
I have to admit that testing what was essentially an off-the-peg OM Lemma somewhat misses the point of this brand. Had I gone through the whole process of carefully selecting every component, refining the geometry and commissioning my own special paintjob, then no doubt the resulting Lemma would have felt a whole world more special – and worthy of its £10,200 price tag. As it was, I could not help wondering whether the likes of a Canyon Ultimate or Ribble Ultra SL R wouldn’t match or even surpass this bike’s performance for considerably less cash.
The OM Lemma is a bike for the committed Italophile who wants a bespoke machine and who has the budget to make it their own in every detail.
“The Lemma was fast and responsive”