They demanded the organizers check those bikes. When confronted at the finish line, the two accused riders refused inspection. Organizers called the police, but before the cops arrived, the suspects jumped into a van and literally fled the scene. Other cyclists tried to hold him back, banging on the van, but they got away in the chaos. One of them was later identified by the Italian media as Alessandro Fantine, an amateur who'd been consistently on the podium. Reporters even noted that they saw a suspicious button on his handlebars. You can't make this stuff up. A car chase at a local bike race because of hidden motors. That tells you two things. One, that the temptation to cheat with a motor had reached even modest events. And two, without proper enforcement, riders felt they could get away with it, or at least they could run when they were confronted. These incidents made headlines and embarrassed local cycling communities. But importantly, they also showed that honest racers were getting fed up. In that 2019 case, it was the other cyclists who insisted on the check. Cycling culture, even at the amateur level, was starting to treat motor doping with the same disdain as drug doping. It's seen as a betrayal of the sports spirit. While those are some of the most dramatic examples, they're not isolated. In the years since, a few more amateurs have been caught or punished. In 2020, an Italian Grand Fondo rider was banned for motor doping. And in 2021, a cyclist in Swiss National Masters time trial was caught with a hidden motor, earning a multi-year ban. So yes, even national championship events at the amateur master level have had this problem. From 2016 through to 2021, there have been perhaps half a dozen known cases worldwide, almost all in the amateur ranks. It's likely the tip of the iceberg given how easy it can be to hide and how hard it is to catch someone without special equipment. As the president of the UCI, David Leartier, noted, more and more amateur organizers are now finding riders with concealed motors. It's not just a pro problem. It might even be worse in your local scene where checks are rare. All right, so we have amateurs actually been caught cheating in this way. But what about the professional pelaton, the tour to France, the monuments, the races we all watch on TV? Officially, as of right now in 2012025, no tour to France or World Tour rider has ever been caught with a motor during a race. However, and that's a big however, the suspicions and conspiracy theories have swirled non-stop for the past decade. We've already talked about the early allegations, Fabian Canelara in 2010, and let's not forget Ryder Hdal's bike, his rear wheel spinning after that crash in 2014, which some people thought indicated a motor in the flywheel type effect. But those were never proven. But after Fama's case in 2016, scrutiny and pro races went through roof. Media and even government agencies got involved hunting for motors at a pro level. In 2016, the French television program Strrade 2 and the Italian newspaper Conier delera conducted a covert operation at two Italian pro races. This is absolutely brilliant. They carried this out at Stratabi and Jirro deltino. They used hidden thermal cameras to scan bikes during the pro races. I'd never heard of this before. You know what the result was? They reported that seven bikes showed heat signatures. five with heat in the seat tube area and two with heat in the rear hub. In other words, potentially five motor in frame and two motor and wheel situations. This was broadcast as a mini investigation and it rocked the sport for a moment, but then we all seem to forget about it again. The UCI, a bit embarrassed, responded that they were already using their own scanners, mostly handheld magnometer tablets, but admitted thermal cameras could be useful. Hey everybody, let's take a quick break to talk about the bike I'll be riding this season, Reap. I've been lucky enough to ride all the top brands in the world over the past few years. But these Reap bikes, they're not the same. And I'll tell you why. Reap is the first company I've seen that isn't chasing sales targets and the mass market. They're chasing something very rare, perfection. Every bike they make, it's crafted in the UK factory. And it's not about slapping a Made in Britain label on a bike from a Chinese factory. It's about control. From the first sketch to the final build, they're hands-on, ensuring that every detail is dialed in. That's very rare in an outsourced world of mass production. What sets them apart is innovation. While others pump out the same old designs, reaps pushing boundaries.
They're not following trends, they're setting trends. Think precision and performance like an F1 car for the road. Absolutely no compromises. And it shows and you can feel it when you ride the bikes. These bikes are built for riders who demand the best. Whether they're chasing podiums or just want a machine that feels like an extension of your body, a piece of art. It's not hype, it's substance. Ride a reap for yourself. And you're riding something crafted with intent. So, if you're serious about cycling, check them out. It's reapbikes.com. I absolutely love my one and I couldn't recommend it highly enough. Back to the show. By 2016 at the tour to France, the government actually started to get involved with the UCI to help them deploy thermal imaging at the tour. The French government weren't allowed about to let their crown jewel race be tainted. In fact, France's Secretary of State for Sports at the time, Thierry Bilard, said, "This problem is worse than doping. The future of cycling is at stake." So, did they find anything at the tour? Well, officially, no. The UCI claims it scanned thousands of bikes in 2016, 2017, and 2018. Tour, and other races with no motors detected. They even showed off new methods, the magnetic tablet scanner, X-ray machines. For example, at the Jiro in 2019, they scanned an estimated 1,300 bikes, including X-rays, and they all came back negative. Some skeptics say that just means that cheats have gotten more sophisticated methods, or now know how to avoid detection. Others believe maybe it's not actually happening at elite level as much as we feared. It's a cat and mouse game. There have been high-profile speculative moments, unusual mid-ra bike swaps by top riders have also raised eyebrows. Even the UCI president, Leartier, acknowledged that unexplained bike changes late in a race trigger suspicion. Greg Lemon, when I spoke to him on the podcast, also was very worried about these late bike changes, just unexplained. Like why is a rider swapping to a fresh bike in the closing kilometers of a mountain stage or in the run-up to a sprint finish? Conspiracy theorists point to that as a way someone might ditch a motorized bike before a finish line check, but there's no hard evidence made public to implicate specific modern stars. But names like Chris Froom and Vicenzo Nebbley and others have at times been whispered on Reddit forums whenever they made a seemingly superhuman effort. Notably, 60 Minutes interviewed Jean-Pierre Verde, the former French anti-doping director who said by 2015 that everybody in the bunch was starting to complain. As of now, no active pro cycling has been busted in competition with a motor. The only pro-ish case was FEMA in 2016 and that was at U23 level. But the sports authorities believe the threat is real. Just recently last year in 202024, the UCI announced it would even pay whistleblowers for any solid tip offs doping at the tour of France. They've brought in experts like former Homeland Security investigator to lead the charge. That shows how seriously they are taking it. La Partier said that if a motor scandal broke in the tour now it would destroy our sport. So this begs the question, how do you actually hide a motor in a bike without everybody noticing? The most common method is a micro motor in the C tube of the bike driving the crank. This is the type that fem used that and used that Fontana used. The design is even commercially available as the Viviac assist that was formerly the Gruber assist. Here's how it works. A small cylindrical electric motor with a gearbox fits inside a hollow C tube of a bike frame, typically just above the bottom bracket area. It engages the drivetrain via a bevel gear on the crankshaft. A rechargeable battery about the size of a multi a multi-tool powers it all. The whole system weighs 1.5 to max 2 kg including the battery. Now, don't underestimate these little motors. They are small, but they can continually deliver about 200 W of assistance to the cranks. For context, 200 watts for 20 minutes is the difference between getting dropped in a Cat 4 local race, which are M's riders, and being at the very front of a Tour to France stage. But how do riders control this system? Well, it's typically controlled via a discrete onoff switch or button. Often this button is hidden under the handlebar tape near the shifters or as a faux bar end plug so the rider can tap it with a finger. Press it once, the motor suddenly starts to spin up to boost the cranks. Press it again and it stops. Some setups have experimented with wireless activation, say a Bluetooth trigger, though wireless risks signal detection, so many use wired, hard to spot switches.
Doping with drugs infiltrated amateurs decades ago. We've seen mast's races that are like destroyed, reputations ruined because of EPO and testosterone use. That's largely driven by ego and that hunger for victory and prestige among their peers. Mechanical doping is an extension of that same psyche. In some ways, it's even more tempting. You don't subject your body to the drugs. You cheat externally. And for older racers, the appeal, it's maybe somehow understandable in a perverse way. It's the fountain of youth in motor form, letting a 50-year-old hang with a 30-year-old again on clims. But of course, it's unethical, and it's against all the rules that we have. It cheapens every honest athletes effort. The outrage among fellow amateurs is real. As we saw, other riders were the ones who turned in the suspects. It's seen as deeply shameful. Fontana, the French rider, expressed regret, but also minimized it, saying, "I've not sold drugs. I've not killed anyone. I simply placed a motor in my bike." Culturally, the existence of motor doping also puts a seed of doubt in a fan's mind, just as doping made us question those extraordinary performances through the '90s. Was that climb too good to be true? For true fans and honest riders, the idea of motor doping almost feels like an attack on the soul of cycling. A beautiful sport of suffering, tactics, and human endurance turned into a tech farce. But at the same time, it's a fascinating story of innovation gone wrong. I mean, the engineering is impressive. It's just been used for cheating. It forces us to ask, how far will people go to win? How do we preserve fairness when technology keeps pushing forward? One positive effect, the motor doping scare has pushed authorities to tighten rules and invest in detection, which hopefully deters most from even trying it. The UCI now treats technological fraud with harsh penalties. They want everyone to know it's not worth it. And ethically, most cyclists scorn at the idea of a motor. It's seen as extremely cowardly. At least with drug doping, there was a twisted rationale that everyone's doing it to survive in a high charged, high octane era. So, motor doping, a bizarre marriage of cycling and gadgetry, is indeed out there. We've seen how it originated in whispers, got exposed in high-profile and lowprofile cases alike, and spurred a technological arms race between cheaters and enforcers. We walk through real incidents from the professional stage to the local circuit, uncover the mechanics of how these hidden motors operate, and ponder the impact on sports integrity. For now, it seems cycling has this battle under control. But the cat and mouse game isn't over. In the end, cycling at any level is supposed to be about human power. It's supposed to be about grit, passion, hard work. We love the sport because we know just how hard it is to ride at five six watts per kilogram up the side of a mountain or sprint with lactate value of 15 after 200 km of racing in her legs. Cheating with a hidden motor. It's not just breaking a rule. It's betraying that communal suffering and triumph that makes cycling special. The hope is that shining a light on this issue through journalism, investigations, and yes, videos like this will help stomp it out. If you're a racer, let this be a warning. Think twice before considering a hidden motor. The glory, it's fake. But I promise you, the shame is real. If you're a fan, don't lose heart. The majority of racers are honest, and there are smart people out there who are working to keep these races true. Who knows, maybe one day we'll look back at this weird chapter in cycling history and laugh. Remember when we caught that girl with the motor in the Cyclacross Championships? But until then, please keep the pressure on. Keep the scanners running. Thank you for watching this deep dive into motor dopen. And if you found it enlightening, take a second to go and check out our other video which will be linked up here somewhere about masters who are flirting with the line and using testosterone. Is it cheating? Is it not? Give this video a thumbs up and please do share it with your cycling buddies. Ride clean and I'll see you in the next episode.