Clouds hang heavy in the sky, plump with a rain which contemplates the opportunity to hurl itself towards the Earth below. I get the sense that we wait for each other, the Rain and I; the rain relishes the opportunity to soak my clothes and skin, seeking to corrode my resolve while I cherish the opportunity to prove to myself that it will not be shaped by such things.
As a kid, I had an illustrated book of Aesop’s Fables. This time of year, I’m often reminded of one fable in particular, that of the Wind and the Sun. As the tale goes, the two are in the midst of an argument over which is the stronger when they spot a traveller on the road below. The Sun suggests that whichever of them can cause the traveller to take off his cloak will be declared the winner. The Wind blows and blows with all its might but the traveller only pulls his cloak closer. The Sun, on the other hand, beams with all its yellow glory, and the traveller soon finds it too hot for his cloak and discards it.
Aesop’s moral was that kindness is more effective than severity, but that sounds a lot like it would require introspection to really digest. Instead, I like to think of myself as the traveller and my resolve as the cloak; the worse the weather, the closer I pull it to me and the more determined I am to hold my course. In fact, this concept extends to any hardship in life; the greater the challenge, the stronger my determination.
So there we are, the Rain and I, waiting for each other; me with my cloak and the Rain with its severity. At this time of year, when the skies have turned grey but the chill hasn’t yet arrived to keep it company, I enjoy waiting for the rain to fall before embarking on my rides. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the questioning looks from the neighbors who descend from their homes in coats and hiding beneath their umbrellas for the journey from front door to automobile; they serve as further evidence that the public still has some distance yet to cover before understanding the Velominatus.
The rain pours down and in minutes soaks my clothes. Rain drops drip from the brim of my cycling cap; when I clench my fist, water steams from the fingers of my gloves. The roads are soaked; both the rain and traffic cast debris towards the gutters. My path crosses between the two and the grit and dirt afloat in the rain water are flung onto my machine and body.
When I return home from the ride, the evidence of my journey is carried in my clothing which is heavy with water and debris. Overshoes and knee warmers, once removed, reveal my Flemish Tan Lines via the clean skin beneath.
Perhaps Flanders is a place not defined by the borders between people, but between wool and flesh. Vive la Vie Velominatus.
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@frank I call BS on your BS call. You cannot argue with the first part of my statement because it's entirely true - historically, club cyclists in the UK have used mudguards on their rain bikes or not been welcome on group rides. Fact. I was baiting about the US part because I don't know what the culture is, but it seems to me to that mudguards simply aren't as common in the road scene as they are in the UK. This is not bullshit, it's an observation.
Secondly, function over form sums up things quite well, if you don't try and take one tiny facet of what I said and try and make it fit your very obvious bias - in the UK people don't seem to mind the added weight (minimal, and on a rain bike who the fuck cares?), noise (only if you're incapable of installing them correctly as, by your own admission, you appear to be), making it harder to change tyre (total rubbish - a wheel will drop out of a frame exactly the same whether or not it has mudguards or not), inability to fork-mount it in the car (most rational people would set their bike up to optimise riding, not transporting by car. I suspect this is a particularly US concern), and make maintenance and cleanup harder (marginally true, but the whole point is that the rain bike is ridden through winter with only basic external maintenance, then cleaned up in spring ready for the following winter).
Form over function really just meant that I believe you prefer the look of your bike without 'guards, and function over form meant that a bike that's set up to ride in the rain as it's primary function has had such petty concerns as looks put aside.
Finally, your idea that somehow carbon and titanium bikes are magically better protected from the elements than stell is just risible. If you had actually worked in bike shops all your life instead of fondling your own fine stable, you'd have come across a delightful phenomenon called galvanic corrosion and, like me, you'd have spent hours of hard physical labour trying to remove steel and/or aluminium bottom brackets and/or seatposts fused into ti and/or carbon frames, seen rivets on carbon and ti frames pull clean off because they've corroded from rain and salt. You might have had to drill out cable housings rusted into them, or not been able to remove a fork because the carbon steerer has been fused to the top race of the headset.
You have to remember that most people aren't able/don't have the time/don't have the ability or handy bike shop to be able to be proactive as regards to maintenance, so your standards aren't a good guide as to what works and what doesn't. For many people (not all, of course) a bike set up with mudguards is a damn good idea, so perhaps you should just accept that and deal with it.
I await your cherry-picked retort with fond anticipation. :-)
*steel*
@Tobin Haha! Even I draw the line at those...
@Oli
I should point out that I'm also in the minority here in the states; in the PNW fenders are ubiquitous. I think @Scaler911 and I are the only two who ride without.
@Oli
I don't have time to read your response at the moment but I'll try to remember to come back to it. It looks...thorough.
@Oli
Rule 5.
@The Pressure I should state that the only bike I have mudguards on is my touring bike that hasn't been used in years. I wouldn't fit them on my road bike because I can't stand the look of them. But just because I don't like them doesn't mean I don't see the sense in them, and if I was in the UK I'd probably run them because everyone else does.
@Oli
Sorry Oli. Was surprised to see you expounding the virtues of the 'guards'...didn't seem your style. I agree with Frank. If it's raining and you're riding, the guards aren't worth a pinch.
@The Pressure Even though I choose not to ride with them I don't agree with that at all - as others have stated with 'guards you don't get the road crap shooting up into your face and, if you have added mudflaps as well, you don't get nearly so much water directly aimed at your feet. Plus 'guards keep the spray down for riders around you. I would state unequivocally that even though you still get wet with mudguards, you are definitely more comfortable and protected from the worst of things. And I say this from years of experience riding in Wellington rain both with and without mudguards.
@HeinrichHauslersHairstyle
Missed your earlier post - but wanted to note your fantastic name. Excellent work.
Wiggo hit by car!
I miss my bendy, placticy/aluminium (I think they were Zefal) guards running a Sanyo dynamo light set - yeah...dynamo lights.
Cars would flash their lights at me to dip my dynamo front light. When stopped the rectangle Wonder light was on.
Couldn't get the Flemish tan lines as wearing full length woollen riding 'pants'.
Now-a-days, CBF rain riding. If I get caught out, no wuckin furries!
Hey Bradley! Want to borrow my dynamo lights?