Doing things the hard way is a luxury. It says to the world that we’ve beat evolution; intelligence is no match for technology and economy is no match for indulgence. We need only step a bit outside our bubble to realize the scale of the illusion, but nevertheless it has become reality for many of us who live our lives happily and fortunately in the middle and upper classes of the developed world where survival has nothing whatsoever to do with being the fittest.
One of the things that struck me within weeks of moving to the Pacific Northwest was the frequency with which people die here; not from disease (although Ebola can go fuck itself, pardon my francais) but from tucking into the wilderness for some weekend relaxation. The PNW has some of the world’s biggest cities, but most of it is untamed wilderness – including radical weather systems, cougars, rattlesnakes, bear, The Sasquatch, and possibly ManBearPig. This place will mess you up, son; your GPS or iPhone isn’t going to be your savior.
The first-hand experience of the realities of a system provides a more intimate learning tool than does the passive observation, although in an evolutionary sense the latter is the more effective method for the survival of a species; our ancestors learned to stay away from bees by watching the guy who drew the short straw poke at a hive and die from anaphylactic shock without needing to then poke at the hive themselves. Nevertheless the tangible nature of repercussions forges an indelible bond between action and result.
It is also interesting that complexity and abstraction are inversely bound; the more complex the system, the farther the user is removed from its operation. The simplicity of the friction downtube shifter is in sharp contrast to the complexity of an electronic drivetrain. My steel bike has friction downtube shifters, a fact that makes itself especially well known while climbing. To shift requires planning and skill; I have to find a part of the climb where I can be seated, unload the chain, and shift by feeling the chain as it slides across the block and listen for the telltale silence when the chain is securely seated back onto an adjacent cog. At that point, I’m committed to that gear until the climb grants me the next opportunity to shift. On Bike #1, I can shift under full load at my whim and without consequence. The artistry of shifting is lost, though I wouldn’t go back to downtube shifters on any bike I plan to ride seriously.
I love the contrast of evolution and tradition in the modern racing bicycle, with carbon tubulars being perhaps the most fitting contrast where the most modern technology is dependent on the oldest form of affixing a tire to a rim. Gluing on a set of tubular tires is no longer a necessary skill in our sport with good clinchers being readily available. Gluing tubs takes time and careful attention, two things that are in short supply in our modern society. But to glue on a set of tires brings you closer to the machine and from where our sport has progressed. To build a set of wheels does so even more, and I imagine building a frame by hand builds the ultimate bond to our history.
We live at a time when the things that are irrelevant to survival take on their own crucial importance; we return to tradition in order to remember where we came from so we may understand where we are going. Doing things the hard way is a beautiful way to remind ourselves of the history that built the luxuries we surround ourselves with.
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A very enjoyable piece @Frank
My steel bike has friction downtube shifters....................NO! the steel bike in that picture has an index shifter in friction mode(who in their right mind has a Red Bianchi? Where's the rule that states Bianchi's are Celeste.....Period!) . If you want to talk about real friction shifting put a picture of a Celeste Bianchi with some good old Campagnolo Super Record real friction shifters. Then you can lament on shifting that requires planning and skill. OK I come from a time when it wasn't the bike it was the motor. Not the how much does it weigh generation. Rant over let's go ride.
"Doing things the hard way is a beautiful way to remind ourselves of the history that built the luxuries we surround ourselves with."
I couldn't agree more (even if this does read like ad copy from one of those hipster artisanal axe manufacturers...or Rapha)
The critical question for me is whether the hard way offers some advantage - it may be quality, cost or beauty but if you do it just for the fact that it is more difficult then it's a bit masturbatory.
Shaving for example - a safety razor is better than a cartridge but a straight edge blade is just for the sake of telling people you use one.
Tea, coffee and beer also seem to give rise to these questions.
See also singlespeeds and fixies on hills. I love climbing on my fixie.
@ChrisO
Why would you ever drive a vintage car? The gear shift is terrible, the transmission noisy, the clutch is probably heavy, no power steering, dodgy brakes but the character, ooohhh the character.....it's the same. There's more too it sometimes than just modern crash, bang, wallup.
Just waiting for the new tyre to arrive, then off to the LBS for some glue. Does not post, apparently.
Then I'll be exploring the zen of this idea.
I too love to draw from the well of tradition and fundamentals to purify my appreciation of the present.
It is no surprise that the greatness of heroes like Coppi is due in part to the fact that he literally rode out of the rubble of post war Italy when there was nothing but the hard way to choose.
There is a place in my N+1 stable for a classic steel steed with down tube shifters and I will call it Alfredo (Binda). Then when I ride my new carbon steed which I will call Nairo, the taste will be even sweeter.
@retrorider_83
The knob is pulled out and its set in friction mode. What will really kill you is that I'm using 10 speed wheelsets so I can share them across all my bikes. That's even more fun to toggle between the gears when they are spaced so closely together with a friction wand.
But you can go fuck yourself about the color of my bike. I love that thing.
Here's a lovely celeste bianchi though:
In grade school my teacher asked me what my favorite color was; I said it was celeste. The teacher asked me to pick a real color.
Somewhere in The Wealth of Nations, Adam Smith--a scholar and great thinker that Murican tea-baggers love to reference in spite of never having a read a fucking word of his or knowing fuck-all about him or anything else in the fucking universe--remarks that the division of labor allows for some enormous number of pins to be manufactured in one place in n hours compared to some other place in which pin-makers make whole pins, but on the other hand it makes the people making the pin heads and the pin shafts and the pin points into something more like Gumboot chitons or tea-baggers.
This tension between collective and individual capacities is the most interesting thread of our species' story, in my opinion.