A Velominatus maintains their machine with meticulous care, doting over it daily. A bicycle is a tool, but it is also a work of art, and serves us loyally in pursuit of our craft. We love them as though they were alive; as we grow together, the cracks and lines formed upon both our skins signifies the journey that has passed beneath our wheels.
A clean bicycle with a boastful luster inspires pride; I find myself constantly fighting the urge to carry mine upstairs to sit by the dinner table each time it has been cleaned, the bar tape freshly wrapped, or any old component swapped for a new one. I’m sure a psychiatrist would have a thing or two to say about it; I know the VMH does.
And yet, there are times when it pains me to clean my machine. After our first day on the Cobbles of Roubaix on Keepers Tour 2012, I left my bike dirty for two days because I couldn’t bring myself to rid her frame of the sacred dust that had accumulated after a day’s hard riding over some of the most hallowed roads in the world. A week later, I suffered the same condition the day after riding the route of De Ronde through hail, rain, and wind which left our machines covered in mud, manure, and Merckx knows what else. I think some part of me hoped the Flemish spirit held within all that grit would somehow be absorbed by my bike, that it would somehow help complete her soul.
But this kind of sacred dirt, the kind we don’t want to wash from our steeds, isn’t found only on the holy roads of Northern Europe. I found myself with the same reluctance to clean my Graveur after riding Heck of the North this year; a race held outside a small Northern Minnesota town nearly half a world from Flanders. I also serendipitously found photos Pavé William took of his Rosin after riding the Strade Bianche, documenting the covering of white dust upon its tubes. This condition afflicts us all, it would seem.
Any dirt becomes holy when we’ve suffered through it, when it took something from us in order to find its way onto our bikes and clothing. Sacred Dirt it is created spontaneously after prolonged exposure to The V.
Vive la Vie Velominatus.
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@Marcus
Not so fast. It is also difficult to smile while holding back the gag reflex.
@frank I think it is the same feeling of attachment that makes me completely incapable of throwing away worn out or crash damaged bike parts. My garage has a growing collection of chain ring, disc rotors and handlebars adorning various nooks and crannies. Those things were there for me on the journey and have earnt the right not to be consigned to the bin.
@jeremy kershaw
It deserves its place there, not to mention that it speaks to the true spirit of Cycling.
@Marko
Don't worry, the shit winters will keep the riffraff out. Same goes for Seattle, to a lesser extent.
@Buck Rogers
Marko, you weren't getting shot at, but you paddled a canoe from your house to the Hudson Bay, navigating your way along in the wilderness with little if any support. You could easily have been hurt or killed. I think your experience fits very high on the Scale of Awesome.
Two words: ritualistic washing.
These is much more to this than meets the eye. I too obcess over keeping a pristine machine. I scoff with some indigntaion over the popular notion that you shouldn't use high pressure water to clean a bike, because "the pressure will force water and grit into places where lube goes." Well, just get the dirt of out those places, and put new lube in where it belongs. Yes, this can take a while. Clean, yes. Destroy functionality, no.
However, dirt in mechanisms degrades their performance, and shortens their lifespan. But news flash - all the moving parts will need to be replaced eventually anyway. Ride your Fucking Bike, and accept that parts can be replaced. The memory of those rides is *forever.* The dirt, as you say, is a badge of sucess.
There is no such thing as an uncleanable bike.
@scaler911
You've done well with your Pedalwan there; @gaswepass doens't look nearly the tit he did on the Cogal a few years back. Strong work.
@eightzero
Awesome post.
One point, the problem with the pressure washer is that for the most part, the bearings are sealed and the water molecules are smaller than the dirt, so the pressure washer doesn't remove any dirt from the bearings (because it wasn't in there) but the water pushes in past the seals and rusts the balls inside.
But you're in good company; the pros use them all the time - although they swap bearings more regularly than we do.
@frank
Concur: because the pros get all their bearings (and everything else) free. And when you don't have to spend your own quid on replacements, you spend more time Working For The Man, less time riding. Unless you're loaded, and then you can ride all you want, and you don't care that you're destroying functionality. But hey, all the pros had to start somewhere, right? I mean, nobody who is rich just becomes a pro? She put in all her dues as a working girl first, right?
One of the best things about my new house: a back yard where I can hose my bike off with the "mist" setting and then dry it off. Cleaning my bike takes waaaaay less time than it used to when I lived in a apartment.
@frank
My LBS always say that the love people who use pressure washers. Work creation for them!