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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@Nate
Is this a descent? I don't think I would have the guts to do a descent on gravel/dirt with those tires...
@wiscot
And you call yourself a Velominati???
See the comment below yours. Spot on Velovita.
@Buck Rogers
Had emoticons been allowed, I would have inserted one after the remark!
@Buck Rogers
Thanks for clearing that up. I was hoping you wasn't taking bike porn the wrong way...
@Steve-o
cyclophilia?
@Barracuda It wasn't so much that I was dropped as I met the Man with the Hammer and couldn't ride him off my wheel.
@Buck Rogers Thanks, how I feel too. Only problem is after a massive ride like that my everyday roads are feeling a little ordinary.
@RedRanger Thanks dude.
@DCR It is near the top of the climb, at this point a bit more than a false flat after some very tough climbing. I was on fumes at this point and I shudder to think what would have happened if I had tried to descend on gravel.
@gaswepass
If @scaler needs "a little stab in the ass", I'll leave that to you and your little prick.
@Nate
You posted that somewhere else, and it was just as awesome. Top marks. And I assume those are the FMB Roubaix tires?
@Nate
That's the same problem we have with the cobbles.
@frank Think I put that up in the Rides but it seemed a propos here after M. Liddy's post. It's from the Eggtimer Gran Fondo. I ran 24 mm Vittoria Open Paves on the day as only about 10% of the ride was on dirt, there was neutral support for clinchers, a hell of a lot of climbing, and the FMBs don't fit on this bike. The tire choice worked out; at one point I wiped the rear tire to remove debris and there was something embedded I could not remove. A minute later there was a rest stop; I pulled over and found a staple in the tread, but it didn't get through the kevlar.