The problem is simple. Not everything deserves your panic-buying energy. The adrenaline is high, the FOMO is chewing through your frontal lobe, and one wrong click can haunt you longer than a winter climb on worn tyres. So before you do something deeply regrettable, let’s examine the worst Black Friday cycling deals lurking out there. The ones that should come with a warning label and a mandatory cooling-off period.
The pointless discount
There are discounts, and then there is this heroic attempt at generosity. One euro off the GU Energy Gel with Carbohydrates – Test Bundle (8×32 g), currently sitting at €13.45 on Bike24. A whole euro. The kind of saving that barely counts as movement on a price tag, yet somehow expects you to react like you’ve just outsmarted capitalism. If you need to bump your cart to that magical €13.45 threshold for free delivery, fine. Toss it in, call it tactical spending, and move on. But buying this bundle specifically because you’re saving one euro on a mystery mix of flavours feels like winning a raffle where the prize is eight sachets of “surprise”.
You can pick the actual flavours you like for a tiny bit more, a difference so small it won’t even register on your monthly “I’m being financially responsible” lie.
This isn’t a deal. It’s a gentle nod pretending to be a bargain.
The bundle
Black Friday bundles always look like treasure chests. The problem is that most of them are filled with socks and rags, not gold. Bundles rarely shine during Black Friday because each piece inside them can usually be found cheaper on its own. Mix a few vendors, use that detective-level patience you reserve for hunting tyre deals, and suddenly the “special price” starts to look like a participation medal.
Take the Shimano GRX 827 Groupset – Di2 | 1×12-speed offer for example. A genuinely solid kit, coming from a brand riders actually trust. The product is not the issue here. The issue is the 3% discount, which barely qualifies as a gesture. Three per cent is what you expect from a bored cashier who accidentally typed something wrong, not from a day when customers reenact wrestling finishers in supermarket aisles just to claim a TV. If you want this set, get it. It’s quality. But don’t let anyone tell you this is a Black Friday deal. This is a polite whisper in a week built on screams.
The great deal that’s still way too expensive
Sometimes you stumble upon a deal so good it makes your pupils dilate. The Santa Cruz Vala 1 C GX AXS Mixed E-Mountainbike is sitting there with a discount that feels almost illegal. The bike is outstanding. The build is outrageous. The components are the kind bike nerds whisper about like they’re discussing state secrets.
And yet, even with that mouthwatering price cut, it still costs more than most people’s first cars. This is the kind of purchase that forces you to check whether your home has enough equity for a second mortgage. It is a machine built for riders who can thread technical descents in their sleep, not for someone still debating whether tubeless is worth the hassle.
If you already own a place, drive a decent car, and casually sold a spare bitcoin because they were cluttering your portfolio, go ahead and treat yourself. The rest of us can admire it from a safe financial distance, the same way we admire supercars. Beautiful to look at, fun to imagine owning, financially catastrophic to actually buy.
The phantom deal
Some discounts hide. Others pretend to exist. Then you get the DT Swiss 370 Classic Rear Hub – 6-Bolt – 12x148mm – Sram XD – Special Offer sitting proudly in the Black Friday section on Bike24, wearing all the right badges, banners, and “special offer” decoration like it’s going to the prom. The only problem is that the price hasn’t moved at all.
The discount is a ghost. A hallucination. A figment of the marketing department’s imagination. Everything about it screams “deal”, yet the number remains identical, stubborn and unchanged, like it’s daring you to call the bluff. So, beware of offers that only cosplay as deals.
The One with no original price
There are suspicious deals, and then there is a carbon wheel with no starting point. The Reynolds B-Ware BL 309 XC 29 Boost CL Carbon Front Wheel on Bike-Discount actually looks great. The discount is probably solid. The product itself? Legit.
But when a shop refuses to show the original price, the whole thing starts to feel more like a magic trick than a sale. You stare at the page, waiting for the reference number to appear like it’s going to materialise out of thin air. Nothing happens. Just the “final price”, floating there with the confidence of someone who has definitely hidden something. Maybe it’s a good deal. Maybe it’s not. Without the original price, all you can do is trust your instincts, your browser history, and that one time you argued whether the brand was good or not… You don’t quite remember on which side you were on. Anyway, next.
The One that’s famously bad
Every cycling community has That Brand. The one everyone jokes about, the one with the legendary tales of broken zippers, paper-thin chamois, and customer service that answers twice a year. Their gear is bought as a prank, a punishment, or an ironic fashion statement so subtle no one ever notices. Normally, these brands are priced as TEMU impulse buys. Cheap, disposable, perfect for terrifying your friends. But when a brand with that reputation decides to price itself like luxury apparel, things get strange.
Enter Le Col’s Black Friday collection. Premium pricing. Premium presentation. A reputation that is… let’s call it mixed. Even with discounts, it still feels like buying a golden stapler. Shiny, expensive, and guaranteed to raise eyebrows from anyone who knows the inside jokes. If you want to wear irony at 45 km/h, fine. But don’t expect applause when the zipper explodes mid-ride. OK, that actually never happened, but you get the point.
Closing the cart before it closes on you
Black Friday has its charms, mostly the feral thrill of chasing discounts while pretending we’re being financially responsible. But half the “deals” out there are booby traps dressed as bargains, waiting for a sleep-deprived cyclist with shaky impulse control to click first and think later.
The truth is simple. You don’t need to buy anything today. Not the phantom discount, not the one-euro miracle, not the carbon wheel with a missing backstory. If something is genuinely worth it, it will be worth it next week too, when your pulse isn’t trying to set a personal record.
So close the cart, take a breath, and remind yourself that riding is already expensive enough. Your bank account doesn’t need another climb.
