I first knew I wanted a RAAW the day I wandered into my local bike shop in Cape Town.
It was one of those casual visits where you’re not really planning to buy anything—you’re just there to avoid work, smell the grease, poke at shiny things, and pretend you have more self-control than you actually do.
Then I saw it. In the workshop stand was this raw alloy, purposeful-looking machine. I couldn’t even tell you the exact model at the time, probably a v2 Madonna, Öhlins hanging off it, full-blooded enduro sled. The lines, finish, the minimalist silhouette… I just stood there and drooled. That was my first introduction to RAAW.
The timing, of course, was terrible. I was already fully invested in another bike at that time—my then dream bike—a full-carbon similarly Öhlins clad monster. The carbon seduced me away from metal bikes in a moment of weakness. Shiny, light, exotic. But I somehow felt like I’d betrayed myself. I was terrified of hurting it in a crash, on the bike rack, leaning it against a wall. So Instead of riding it like a mountain bike, I fussed over it like fine china. This must be how it feels to be a roadie?
Then came the crash. I was sidelined for a few months. Plenty of time to think, and as it often happens, time off the bike turned into time dreaming about the next build. But I already knew what I wanted this time and that’s when the idea of owning a RAAW really took hold.
See, I’m tall—very tall—so fit is always a bit of a circus with me and my bikes. When I started digging into the Madonna v3 and saw the stack height and that XXL option, it felt like someone had finally designed a bike for actual tall people….and even better, a bike that didn’t look like some stretched-out farm gate.
So early 2025, I reached out to RAAW and got in touch with Sophia. From the first emails, she was patient and generous with her time. I guess they get a lot of tire kickers. I certainly felt like one. But she answered all my questions, never once making me feel like I was asking too much.
And then, life did what life does. By the end of 2025 I found myself moving to another country. New city, new logistics, new financial priorities. New bikes had to go on hold, no matter how badly I wanted that Madonna v3. I sold off most of my other bikes in the process, but the mountain-bike-shaped hole in my life just got bigger. But I knew exactly what was going to fill it with eventually. Months passed. The conversation with RAAW went quiet from my side while I handled all the boring grown-up stuff. When things finally settled a bit, I reached out again, half expecting I’d have to reintroduce myself and start over. I didn’t.
The team at RAAW picked up our conversation like we’d last spoken the week before. This was it. I pulled the trigger. A few days later, a box arrived. I’d seen every photo and review in existence, but opening that box still made me feel fuzzy in funny places….
The frame was every bit as beautiful as I’d hoped. The welding, the finish, the way everything felt solid and intentional. But most appreciated was a postcard with a handwritten note. Who even does that anymore?? Great assembly instructions thoughtfully put together. A poster. A surprisingly detailed manual. Extra decals. And a small fabric “shopping bag” that has somehow become my go-to grocery bag. None of these were strictly necessary; the frame alone would’ve sold me. But those touches made it feel less like I’d bought a product and more like I’d joined a small tribe who really cares about what they put into the world. I didn’t feel like I’d just spent money on another toy. I felt like I’d invested in something.
My build isn’t finished yet…I'm still waiting for all my stuff to arrive by sea. Parts are still being hunted down, choices still being made. But the frame hangs where I can see it, like art, and every time I walk past, I catch myself staring at it, mentally fast-forwarding to the first proper ride. So yeah, thanks team RAAW. You didn’t just sell me a frame. You reminded me why I love this in the first place.