Categories: Accessories and GearExportRantings from the V-Bunker

Inanimate Objects

Sometimes it just comes down to a staring contest.

I have a love-hate relationship with inanimate objects. I appreciate them for their utility, but I genuinely have no patience for their insubordination. Take, for example, bungee cords. By far the most mischievous object in existence, the only thing you can be sure to hook with them is your pant leg. The second-most misbehaving inanimate object, in case you’re wondering, are those pieces of debris that specialize in sticking to windshield wipers precisely at eye level.

Cycling is the most beautiful sport in the world, and the bicycle itself the most elegant and sophisticated piece of equipment in history. Yet, I have rarely descended into such a fit of rage as by a malfunctioning drive train. On good days, the inconvenience distracts me from what would otherwise be a day of near-perfect grace. On bad days, it drags my morale from the toilet into the septic system.

The descent into madness caused by a mysterious mechanical problem involves several steps. Observe:

Calmly come to a stop at the roadside, being careful to ooze a Casually Deliberate nature. Inspect the machine for cause. Make an adjustment which is likely to exacerbate the problem.
Repeat (1) until problem has become severe or elusive enough to have exhausted your ability to exhibit a calm demeanor.
Accuse the bicycle of being born out of wedlock. If no improvement is observed in the operation of the machine, threaten it with dismemberment, death, or recycling. Dismount and stare at it sternly. Attempt to startle bicycle into submission by slamming the wheels on the tarmac. Remount.
If problem persists, hurl bicycle into bushes. Immediately regret the decision, replace rage with overwhelming panic, and check to make sure they were soft bushes.
Repent, buy your her some flowers, and apologize. Get her home to the workshop for a nice bath and an overhaul.

The obvious challenge here is the circumvention of Rule #65, so we should not make a habit of this. But sometimes the stubbornness of an insubordinate inanimate object is simply too dumbfounding to offer us any viable alternative.

frank

The founder of Velominati and curator of The Rules, Frank was born in the Dutch colonies of Minnesota. His boundless physical talents are carefully canceled out by his equally boundless enthusiasm for drinking. Coffee, beer, wine, if it’s in a container, he will enjoy it, a lot of it. He currently lives in Seattle. He loves riding in the rain and scheduling visits with the Man with the Hammer just to be reminded of the privilege it is to feel completely depleted. He holds down a technology job the description of which no-one really understands and his interests outside of Cycling and drinking are Cycling and drinking. As devoted aesthete, the only thing more important to him than riding a bike well is looking good doing it. Frank is co-author along with the other Keepers of the Cog of the popular book, The Rules, The Way of the Cycling Disciple and also writes a monthly column for the magazine, Cyclist. He is also currently working on the first follow-up to The Rules, tentatively entitled The Hardmen. Email him directly at rouleur@velominati.com.

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frank says:

Dec 19 2016 at 1:03 pm

@Oli

@Spankles

No. Seriously?

Not true! Not true!

I was on the verge, though. It was the situation where I was on a good day and it was harshing on my visit with La Volupte!
Oli says:

Dec 19 2016 at 2:31 pm

@frank

Phew, I was about to despair!
Fred says:

Dec 20 2016 at 8:03 am

Lol. I had an incident where I unknowingly lost the bolt on my lower jockey wheel just after cresting a climb and starting a steep 3km descent. As I attempted to stand to power up the next climb, I soundly bashed my soft bits on the top tube, veered into traffic, veered toward the curb, and barely avoided coming off. After a shameful 3km uphill walk intently looking at the ground and collecting bits of my rear mech, I found everything except for the offending bolt. After searching about for 30 min or so, a fellow cyclist out walking his dog offered the services of his parts bin only for me to find that he ran Campy exclusively and that Campy jockey wheel bolts are just shorter enough than shimano bolts that one will spend 15 min vainly trying to make it work before calling the broom wagon (velomissus).
Ron says:

Dec 20 2016 at 8:15 am

@Fred

Good lord, that sounds fucking horrible! Yowzers.
ChrisO says:

Dec 20 2016 at 8:51 am

@Ccos

“Take, for example, bungee cords. By far the most mischievous object in existence” Well I’ll nominate Race Dots to that list too. Their tendency to fuck with you is inversely proportional to the time between their placement and your race. I’ve gone back to pins (always an odd number, always a lot, always aligned and never likely to bunch up into a giant magnet fuck ball when you’re pulling on your jersey).

OMG yes.

Although I don't think it's strictly true to put them under the heading of inanimate objects.

They are tiny metal minions of Satan animated into spiteful, malicious movement by hatred of mankind.
Art G says:

Dec 20 2016 at 6:24 pm

@Buck Rogers

@Oli

I can grudgingly admire the style of those throws (and Bjarne Riis’ one in ’97) but it still totally grinds my gears to see bicycles treated like trash.

I’m with you, Oli.

Always makes me think of one of my favorite songs when I see these entitled, temper-tantrumed idiots chucking their bikes.

I love that song. John Hiatt is awesome. I still feel fortunate to have seen Pete Townsend smashing a (YIKES!) Gibson Les Paul Custom. Nonetheless, I bet even Petey regrets a few of those crazy moments. We all make poor decisions in the heat of frustration or while high on adrenaline at one time or another.
Buck Rogers says:

Dec 20 2016 at 10:32 pm

@Art G

@Buck Rogers

@Oli

I can grudgingly admire the style of those throws (and Bjarne Riis’ one in ’97) but it still totally grinds my gears to see bicycles treated like trash.

I’m with you, Oli.

Always makes me think of one of my favorite songs when I see these entitled, temper-tantrumed idiots chucking their bikes.

I love that song. John Hiatt is awesome. I still feel fortunate to have seen Pete Townsend smashing a (YIKES!) Gibson Les Paul Custom. Nonetheless, I bet even Petey regrets a few of those crazy moments. We all make poor decisions in the heat of frustration or while high on adrenaline at one time or another.

I saw The Who in 1989 but for the life of me I cannot remember if he smashed his guitar ... I do not think that he did so (but then again, maybe he did--I'll have to check with my friends that were with me!)

But yes, he sure destroyed some beautiful pieces of Art in the name of Art.
Teocalli says:

Dec 21 2016 at 5:40 am

@Art G

I was at the first live performance of Quadrophenia. Mr T was not a happy bunny with the backing track or something - or maybe just the overall volume. Anyway about half way through he rather lost it and broken gear was a plenty. He also booted Entwistle's trumpet into the orchestra pit that was open to keep the audience away from the stage (they were not happy with that either).
Teocalli says:

Dec 21 2016 at 7:04 am

@wiscot

Of course, Messers Wiggins, Riis and Millar can chuck their bikes because there’s another brand new, pristine machine waiting for them. We mere mortals are not so fortunate.

Check out the size of the chain on Coppi’s bike. That thing is a beast! Nice cut out on the BB shell though . . .

What is that chainring too - something like 56 or 58T.
davidlhill says:

Dec 21 2016 at 7:40 am

@ChrisO

@Ccos

“Take, for example, bungee cords. By far the most mischievous object in existence” Well I’ll nominate Race Dots to that list too. Their tendency to fuck with you is inversely proportional to the time between their placement and your race. I’ve gone back to pins (always an odd number, always a lot, always aligned and never likely to bunch up into a giant magnet fuck ball when you’re pulling on your jersey).

OMG yes.

Although I don’t think it’s strictly true to put them under the heading of inanimate objects.

They are tiny metal minions of Satan animated into spiteful, malicious movement by hatred of mankind.

Anyone who sails seriously bans these things from their boat immediately, without waiting to hear of any excuses/reasons as to why they should be allowed.

There should be a special place in Lucifer's kingdom reserved for their inventor.