As I sat down to write this article, I noticed that the battery on my laptop needed charging. I stood to reach for the charger, picked it up, and then watched helplessly as it slipped from my hand and pin-balled off every possible surface between my hand and the floor. I then muttered something that suggested it was birthed outside of wedlock and asserted that it may not in fact be comprised of plastic and electronics, but entirely of fecal material, as is the customary reaction to such events.
Having successfully insulted the inanimate object and thereby preserved my dignity, I picked it up (again) and unwound its cord which then promptly whipped around and smacked me in the face. On some days, I’ve come to learn, I just don’t have it.
This pattern of general discombobulation spread it’s tentacles beyond my benign computer-charging activity; it affected my cycling. Having spent 27 years climbing aboard a bicycle, most of the associated activities are second-nature and thus require very little focussed effort. Shifting, drinking from the bidon, clicking into the pedals; all these things happen without so much as a second thought and never do they require me to look down.
Or, I should say, almost never.
On this day I found myself with the chain crossed on two separate occasions; once on the little ring and once in the big ring. The fact that I only noticed I was in the big ring as I came to the top of a climb I found unusually difficult did little to temper my disgust at the incident. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not afraid of a chain cross out of necessity, but I’m usually aware of it. What I found intolerable was the simple fact that I was caught completely unaware; that the connection between rider and machine had somehow been severed. But what I found most insufferable was the fact that I had to stare down at my feet and concentrate on the pedals in order to clip into them, lest my foot was left to dangle uselessly in the air just adrift of my pedals. I’m surprised I didn’t drop my bidon while attempting to replace it in it’s cage. Infuriating.
But even on these clumsiest of days, I can still spin the pedals smoothly enough to lose myself in the sensation of flight as my machine and I sweep through a series of hairpin turns together. I find I can still breath in the delightfully damp smell of a stand of deciduous trees or the sunbaked smell of a cedar pine forest. I find I can still indulge in the urge to make my legs burn for no reason other than to quell the doubt that I still can. Even on these days, when all the little things seem to conspire together to wear at my patience, the beauty of The Ride still unfolds before me.
Vive la Vie Velominatus.
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@scaler911
Appletini
@scaler911
I hear melted scented candle wax works well.
@frank
@roadslave
Frank/Roadslave - Great posts. You've articulated my feelings to a T. I'll also add that a similar type of loss would be felt from the perspective of working on your bike. There is something therapeutic for me about installing and tuning a cable system. From threading the cable through the brake levers, down through the tubes, guides and into the derailleurs, the first hand pull of the cable, the initial adjustments, hearing the rub of the chain on the cage disappear as you turn the screws and the satisfaction of reaching that beautiful silence as everything gets perfectly aligned. Even cutting the cable and crimping the endcap is an opportunity to make your bike as perfect as possible. I just can't imagine pushing a button and turning a limit screw... no matter how easy or efficient... could be as satisfying.
I'm not anti e-shifting, and suspect I'll own a bike with it at some point, but I'm also sure that I will always have a few bikes running cables in my collection.
@Dr C "I sense a secret, not so well concealed, desire to have Di2, but that you can live with the stretchy wire bits out of respect for the purity of it all"
I am so busted
@all...thanks for kind words.
I'm relatively new to road bikes, I'd consider myself to be a more than competent bike mechanic but have never had the opportunity to fiddle with derailleur gears. It's not to hard after watching a few how to clips on-line and it's very satisfying having no problems whatsoever changing gear and so far (though I'm sure it'll happen one day but not because I typed this) I've never dropped my chain.
It does fill me with glee when I make a shift from the wee ring to big as it's somewhat mystical. I previously thought that the pin that joins the two parts of the front mech and is under the chain somehow lifted the chain up onto the big ring but no, just the sideways movement is enough to skip the chain over, the teeth seem to grab it and off I go sur le plaque, it amazes me. There's also the satisfaction that comes from maintaining it myself, when my riding buddies always seem to have to go back to the LBS because the LBS didn't get it right the first time.
When I get a biek I can call number 1 bike it probably won't have Di2 but I'd maybe only get Di2 if there was a compatible solar charger just in case there is a societal collapse as someone previously mentioned, but stocking up on tyres etc will slow down my ability to get bike number 1, which is my proirity right now.
Dear Frank
Why are there 14 teeth on the V cog when we all know the maximum V is 11 ?
@minion
Quite right - it's not funny or clever - I'm ashamed - have asked the leader to remove my vile tripe of a posting
@Rik Perry
The answer is, of course, that Merckx set the Hour record in a 52x14.
@frank
astonishing attention to detail - chapeau
@Dr C
Probably more like second nature. Like putting the key in the ignition and turning it to start. You don't think about it, you just know. It's why Frank is Frank.