Yes, that cyclist is pressing a secret button on his bike and getting an illegal boost. Hidden motor doping is real and it's happening in cycling. You clicked to find out about cyclist cheating with hidden motors.
And trust me, it's even crazier than you think. Imagine a local weekend race. A 53-year-old rider rockets past a young gun on the steepest section of the hardest climb.
He leaves everybody astonished. He wins, but something is off. organizers whip out a thermal camera and the guy's C tube, it glows like a toaster.
Inside his bike, a motor. My question is, how? How many amateur racers might be cheating right now?
And how are they getting these secret engines installed into their bikes? But it happened in Italy. And when officials approached the rider, he fled the scene rather than let them inspect the bike.
In France, another amateur actually tried to drive away after the race. A literal car chase ensued, all to hide a secret motor. Unbelievable.
This is the new frontier of cheating and cycling. From local fondos to the world tour. Stay tuned because in this video, we're uncovering the origins of the covert tech, real cases of riders caught red-handed, how these hidden motors work, the black market behind them, and why even tour to France champions are worried.
This is a story of high techch cheating that could upend the sport as we know it. Welcome to the Roadman podcast. Today, we're investigating motor doping, the use of hidden electric motors to cheat in bike racing.
For years, cycling fans assumed the only doping was in syringes and pills. But now, there's a new kind of scandal that's both technologically advanced yet bizarrely low tech. At the same time, we have tiny hidden motors and frames, turning riders into secret ebike users, like your favorite deliveroo rider.
Picture the 2010 to Flanders. Swiss star Fabian Canelara attacks on the Keelmure, the steepest climb of the day. Sitting down, leaving his rival Tom Boon in his dust.
Fans and pundits were baffled. How did Canelara accelerate so fast while seated? He went away from Boon and like he was stopped.
Whispers of a hidden motor began swirling, but Canelara laughed it off. He denied it. There was no proof, but the seed of suspicion had been planted.
Around the same time, an Italian TV commentator and former pro David Casagna did something extraordinary on live TV during the 2010 Juralia. He produced a bicycle that had a hidden motor and demonstrated how it worked. Kasani claimed some pros had been using such motors since 2004.
The cycling world was absolutely stunned. It turns out the idea of a motorized bike wasn't new at all. In fact, the Hungarian engineer Stefano Vargas says he invented the first truly hidden bike motor back in 1998.
And get this, he claims he sold it to an anonymous buyer for nearly $2 million on the condition he'd keep it quiet and not build another motor for 10 years. That's a $2 million secret doping weapon that only one rider had access to. Think about it.
The late 1990s were peak for cycling's EPO drug era. While everyone was distracted by blood doping, someone may have been cheating with a tiny motor. Varas told 60 Minutes that he believes motors have been used in races since then.
Even former Tour to France champion Greg Lamond is convinced some pros have used hidden motors. Lamont went so far as to say that he won't trust the tour to France victories that we see until cycling figures out how to detect and eliminate hidden motors. Sometimes can't follow cycling because I sometimes don't believe it.
I truly believe motors were used to you went a lot of big races until very recently. It was a real deal. And I I look at it now they're doing 65 bikes deal.
You don't see bike changes like you did five years ago. How could it be that either the equipment was so bad Shimano was making really bad equipment. I would see five when I was in your I see five bike changes by riders and it pissed me off.
I I would see and I knew I know what I've written the motor. I've seen what's happened with it and I know insight I I I know who I believe was using it. I'm not going to say that out loud because that's a tour to France legend.
Maybe the GOAT basically saying I don't believe what I'm seeing anymore. The implication motor doping could be as devastating to cycling's credibility as the Lance Armstrong saga was. So by the late 2010s, we had an idea of hidden motors.
It was out there, proven in theory by Cassagna's demo, but still no one had been caught in practice. The UCI was under pressure and started quietly scanning bikes in big races around 2015, but nothing turned up. That is until 2016.
Fast forward to January 2016, the UCI World Cyclross Championships in Zalder, Belgium. An under 23 women's racer, Fama Vandrishi, has a mechanical problem and withdraws from her race. Officials check her spare bike and guess what?
Bingo, a hidden motor. They find a motor concealed in the frame. This was the first confirmed case of motor doping in cycling history.
A 19-year-old essentially caught with a motorized bike at a World Championship event. She received a six-year ban and a very hefty fine. One journalist called it the worst scandal cycling had seen since Lance Armstrong's doping saga.
And it was that shocking at the time. The UCI president called it technological fraud of the worst sort. and fans suddenly realized all rumors might be true after all.
If a teenager in Cyclacross was doing it, who's to say that World Tour riders couldn't be? FKA's motor was relatively unsophisticated. She essentially retrofitted a kit, but it blew the issue wide open.
After 2016, the UCI ramped up bike checks at pro races. But what about elsewhere? Here's the wild part.
The next people caught with motors, they weren't tour to France stars. They were riders in the amateur and master ranks. It turns out a subset of amateur cyclists, master racers, grand fondos, weekend warriors, local crit heroes were embracing this cheating tech, arguably more than their pro contemporaries.
In July 2017, at a small amateur race in Bedzole, Italy, officials had a tip off about a rider. This was a 53-year-old master cyclist, not a pro by any stretch. They discreetly set up a FLIR thermal camera during the race and lo and behold one rider seat tube glowed hot on the thermal image.
After the race they pulled aside Alandro Aldron who'd finished turd for a bike check. Before they could even dismantle anything and admitted on the spot that he'd used a motor hidden in the sea tube and abandoned the event in shame. The organizers later showed his Argon 18 bike had a motor lodged in the sea tube.
A local mast's racer beating people half his age thanks to a hidden engine. Andy's case was only the second confirmed motor to open case ever after FEA. Think about that.
The first was at a world championships. The second was a low-level masters race. It highlighted that this tech isn't just a hypothetical toy of the elite.
It was trickling down to the weekend warriors. And it raised a scary question. How many amateur racers might be cheating undetected?
Just a few months after the Italian incident in France, another mast's rider was caught. This time through old-fashioned detective fork. In October 2017, Serial Fontana, a 43-year-old amateur, suspiciously dominated several races and even won prize money about 500 euro over the course of a month.
Other riders, they knew his form and they noticed something. Something felt off. Famous exro and anti-doping vigilante who you might remember from the Armstrong era, Kristoff Bassons got a tip and he set up a sting.
Fontana was leading the race when he punctured and instead of waiting for a spare wheel change, he abandoned the race, rushed to his car and tried to drive off with his bike, but Bassons and officials literally chased him down by car and caught him in the act. Fontana's bike was opened up and sure enough, a motor was inside. Fontana confessed and explained why he did it.
He claimed he had a herniated disc, making it hard to keep up, so he used the motor to feel good again. He insisted he didn't actually care about winning. He didn't want to be a champion.
He just wanted to not get dropped. But he also dropped a bombshell. Quote, he said, "I'm not the only one doing this.
" In other words, he believed that other amateurs were using hidden motors. Fantana got a 5-year ban from the French Cycling Federation and was even convicted in court for sporting fraud, receiving 60 hours of community service. The authorities treated this like a crime that it is, because he'd effectively stolen wins and prize money through fraud.
By 2017, we've had two amateur cases in quick succession, Italy and France, revealing an ugly truth. Hidden motors were not a once in a blue moon myth. They were in use even in local races.
And as Fontanaia hinted, they might even be many of them out there. If those stories aren't crazy enough, listen to this. In 2019, at an amateur criterium in Vento, Italy, fellow riders had grown suspicious that two guys in the bunch had motorized bikes.
By the third round of the series, the Pelaton basically mutinied. 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.
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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. In an advanced twist though, Varas demonstrated a version that could automatically engage when a rider's heart rate hits a preset max.
That's next level sneak. As soon as you hit threshold heart rate, 175 beats, boom, you have an extra 200 W on hand when you need it. When these systems are off, the systems freewheel normally, meaning the rider can pedal normally with almost no extra resistance.
That's the key because if the motor caused drag when it was off, the rider would get too fatigued. The cost of using it would be too much. So, they're designed to be undetectable in feel.
They're also relatively quiet. Not completely silent, mind you, but during a race with the ambient noise of crowd, wind, and other bikes making just a faint buzz. Some people claim to have heard whizzing sound in some suspect race footage, but that's very hard to confirm.
A well-built motor makes at most a soft home. They used to be on sale for as little as a few thousand. You're talking $3 to $5,000.
I know it sounds expensive, but relative to how much the bikes are, it's not that bad. And it's certainly not out of reach for a determined mast's rider with cash to burn. And obviously, top pro teams with multi-million dollar budgets and salaries could afford even more refined versions of these.
In fact, one hidden motor inventor that we mentioned, Vargas, has sold complete motorized bikes for over 20,000 each to wealthy clients. If there's demand, the technology will be provided. The second category is a little more exotic, hidden propulsion in the wheels.
There are two known approaches here. One is similar to the frame motor. It's just miniaturized into a wheel hub.
The other is electromagnetic wheel concept. That sounds like something out of your old science class. A disguised wheel hub motor is plausible.
Think of a small lightweight version of a ebike hub motor. But highle bikes these days, everyone is using, you know, super light carbon wheels like zip wheels or similar. So any excess weight around the hub would really be noticed.
No one's been caught with a hub motor yet, though rumors swirled when those thermal imaging cam projects show two bikes hot caught at the rear hub. It suggests some riders have experimented with hiding a motor in the rear hub or inside a disc wheel in time trials. For now, though, let's focus on the electromagnetic idea, which Vargas and others have hinted at.
The electromagnetic wheel concept works like this. Instead of a physical motor with gears, you embed a series of powerful magnets in the wheel rim and an induction coil electromagnetic in the bike's frame like inside the chain stay or down tubes. It's going to use pulses of electricity.
The coil can create a rotating magnetic field that pushes on the magnets in the spinning wheel, effectively giving torque without any mechanical connection. Dead Spin's tech blog described that it's good for 60 extra watts of power with negligible weight and nearly undetectable hardware. Control can be the same as like we talked about previously.
It can be wireless via Bluetooth because the main elements are just magnets and wires. It's harder to spot unless you really know what you're looking for. Now, before you think this is everywhere, that it's prevalent across all cycling, know that this approach is very expensive and it's very complex.
One report said that electromagnetic wheel systems would cost in the order of 100 to 200,000. That implies only top pros or a very rich rogue amateur could afford it and likely would need custom frame building to integrate. But it's the kind of cuttingedge cheating tech that keeps the UCI awake at night.
They fear that as engines get smaller and harder to detect, a wellunded cheat could always try to stay ahead of his competition. It's an arms race between the cheat tech and the detection tech. To put this into perspective as to how accessible this all is.
The crudest and simplest versions of these motorized kits, anyone can buy them online at the moment and install them in a standard bike. They're the most advanced hypothetical cheats require a secret team of engineers and a James Bond level budget. So far, confirmed cases have all been the simple kind.
But the existence of high-end tech means the stakes at pro level are high. If even one Tour to France competitor or contender successfully used a 200 grand stealth magnetic wheel to win, it will be a huge scandal which we may never recover from. And that's why the UCI is going so hard to prevent this.
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So, where do these motors come from? Is there a black market? In a way, yes.
Though, you could also just call this a marketplace. Throughout the 2000s, companies like Vivx openly sold stealth assist kits for any cyclist perhaps wanting a boost in their recreational speed. They marketed them as innocently like ride with your faster friends or conquer that hill.
A bit like ebikes for people who didn't want to have an obvious ebike. Of course, the same product doubles as an elicit race booster. Vivx, as I mentioned, they were group resist.
They sold a lot of units and the price was $2.5 to $3,000 at the time. Interestingly, Vivx went out of business around 2019, perhaps due to the stigma or maybe just perhaps due to the rise of mainstream ebikes.
But by then, the Genie was out of the bottle and other suppliers came in to fill that gap and innovate. Besides commercial kits, there have been more shadowy sources to getting these installed. Remember Veras, the Hungarian engineer?
He's a key figure in the motor doping underworld. After his alleged 10-year silent deal ended in 2009, he reportedly started refining and selling his motor systems again. 60 Minutes reported that Verass sells fully motorized bikes to wealthy clients for around $20,000 each.
He's basically a bespoke supplier. He claims if a buyer lies to him about their intent, it's not his fault. even cheekily saying if the money is big he doesn't mind selling to someone who might cheat.
That's a pretty brazen statement and it suggests there is indeed a black market where those who are in the know with enough cash can acquire prolevel hidden motor tech online. If you search you can find hidden motor kits on various websites. As of today even Alibaba had listings for bicycle boosters.
Now, let's pause and talk for a moment about the cat and mouse game of detecting motor dope. It's one thing to suspect it. It's another to catch someone in the act.
Unlike drug cheating with traditional doping, you can't take a urine or blood sample to find a motor. You have to find the device on the bike. Here are the primary methods used or developed in the hunt for these mechanical doping cheaters.
Despite all these methods though, cheats have some advantages. They typically use the motor sparingly. maybe only for a decisive 5-minute climb or to give them a nudge in the final sprint, making detection a lot harder.
They can also design motors to be quickly removable. There were rumors of bikes with motors that the rider could actually eject onto the roadside and ditch if needed. It's unclear if that actually ever happened, but the idea shows the cat and mouse thinking.
And of course, as tech improves, the motor might be small enough to hide the in places that inspectors don't routinely check. The UCI's new tech chief said, "They're not going to do the same thing they did 10 years ago. So, we too need to evolve.
They are going to advance." The good news is the cycling community is alert. Fans with smartphone thermal cameras have been spotted at races scanning bikes from behind the barriers.
Teams now expect and submit to scans regularly. It's part of the protocol. It's just like anti-doping controls.
If someone tried something sneaky at a high-profile race, I would like to think there's a good chance it would be exposed. But as we learned at the lower levels, it's tougher. Local organizers, they don't have the fancy scanners, so they rely on whistleblowers and keen eyes.
Beyond the technology and the trill of the chase. There's a deeper question. What does motor do mean for cycling culture?
Why would someone do this, especially amateurs where there's little fame or a prize money? And is the arms race of cheating potentially worse at an amateur level because of weaker enforcement? Cycling has always struggled with that win at all cost mentalities.
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.