The air is soothingly warm, and smells of summer nights gone by. A refreshing scent of salt tickles our nostrils. The Promenade des Anglais stretches out in front of us – an endless tarmac runway with a golden glow of lanterns shimmering on the sea. In the alleys of Vieux Nice, wine glasses chime softly in the night air – but you’re not here for wine. Your intoxication has wheels. Your drug is speed.
When the harsh glare of daylight fades and our shadows stretch long, our senses sharpen. The night strips away distraction, leaving only what truly matters. Sounds get sharper, our heartbeat louder, and every breath is more intentional. The road ahead dissolves into darkness – only a beam of light leads the way.
Our perception shifts at night. We feel faster, freer– as if we were flying. The darkness abducts the visible world but gives us something greater: a pure sensation of freedom. As the world falls silent, something awakens within us. A desire. A craving for speed. And so, we dive headfirst into the tunnel of the night.
There’s a tunnel. In front of it, a palm tree, and a UFO right next to it. A shimmering, turquoise-blue jewel: the Canyon Aeroad. The aero-optimised silhouette and aggressive, racy geometry scream one thing: speed. A cutting-edge machine against a Belle Époque backdrop. The UFO turns predator, ready to devour the night. Your hands grip the bars. The light flashes on. Darkness calls.
“You could lose yourself at the bar– or turn the streets of Nice into your very own velodrome.”
The choice for the night
Most are either asleep or partying. But not you. While others are starting a new day, you’re beginning to write a new chapter. The city drifts between silence and revelry – but you’re chasing a different high. No laughter, no glass in your hand, just the rhythm of your breath, the hum of the chain, and the tarmac underneath your tires, melting into one with you.
The night brings out all curious creatures – a circle of insiders who share its dark secret. Dreamers, wanderers, magicians, and artists. Your art is speed. You chase the fleeting moment, trace invisible lines, play with the wind, and dance with the traffic lights. A masterpiece only you can see. A craft only you understand. A gentle push on the pedals, the tires roll smoothly – and then, an ecstatic sprint. A door opens. Music spills from a bar. Time holds its breath. And the crowd? It’s celebrating you.
Nice Nights
The traffic lights turn green – it’s your signal to launch. No turning back, no running away, no more excuses. You clip in, lean forward, and the Aeroad responds instantly. No hesitation, no wobble, just pure propulsion. Every pedal stroke drives you deeper into the tunnel of the night. Sprint. Attack. Accelerate. The bike becomes an extension of you, your instinct made of metal and carbon. The city lights blur as you tear down the Promenade des Anglais. To your right, the dark, endless sea. To your left, the slumbering façades of Belle Époque mansions.
You sprint forward, feel the rush of the air, and hear the sweet sound of Swiss carbon wheels humming beneath you. A few night owls glance your way – but you’re already gone.
The world slows down as you speed up. You feel like Mathieu van der Poel on the home straight. You’re focused, unstoppable.
The art of speed – The Canyon Aeroad CFR
Speed isn’t a chance. It’s a choice. Every sprint, every attack – you push, and the Aeroad responds without hesitation. No power lost, no flex wasted, just pure propulsion. The precision-tuned frame converts every watt into raw speed, slicing through the wind like a scalpel. You push harder, feel the frame crave your watts, surging forward with ruthless efficiency. No resistance, no distractions, just you and the speed. The air ahead parts, forming a corridor, almost a vacuum, as the Aeroad tears through – relentlessly, uncompromisingly. It demands speed. And so do you.
Aerodynamically optimised tube shapes and compact seat stays slash through the air, minimising drag and turbulence. An aero virtuoso, a master of its craft – just pure speed. Even when stationary, the Aeroad looks fast. But out on the empty boulevards, it becomes a rocket. Every sprint, every surge merges body and machine into one. As precise as a Chagall brushstroke, and yet wild and uncompromising, like an avant-gardist. Speed is your art form, the night your gallery.
The carbon wheels whir softly through the dark, storing every ounce of velocity like a loaded weapon – ready to unleash in an instant. Just as Chagall captured the glowing colours of Nice with his brush, the Aeroad traces a streak of light through the night – a true masterpiece of speed and technology. You push the Aeroad to its limits– or rather, it pushes you to yours.
“You could ride slower. But why would you?”
The night is ours
The city slowly stirs. The first light flickers behind the windows. Your pulse settles, the bike rests against the wall – calm, composed, as if nothing had happened. But it’s watching, waiting, it’s ready for the next night. And you know it. While the city is still sleeping, you’ve already had your best session. Carpe noctem – seize the night. The lounge chair can wait. Speed won’t.
For more information, visit canyon.com
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Words: Jan Fock Photos: Robin Schmitt
