Embracing the unknown

If there is one constant variable in not only cycling but life itself, its the ever swinging pendulum of change.  The flow of our day to day lives is and always will be in a constant state of flux.  From seemingly unchanging consistency to momentary, lightning fast, unexpected curve balls; there is an underlying element of change in even the most stable of situations.  Cycling is certainly no different from this being each and every ride exemplify this realization.  With so many individual yet connected elements giving rise to the unique, one time experience that is  our bicycle ride, it is no wonder its always such a diversified experience every time.  From lack of sleep and chronic stress to carefully planned meals and abundant mental clarity; the ride can and will be effected by myriad aspect.  

Different day, different ride 

How boring and unenticing would it be if every bicycle ride looked, felt and was experienced in the exact same way.  If we rode the same route, with the same whether conditions after having eaten the same meals we might begin to feel that the flavor of variety was somehow lacking in our experience.  Omitting the fundamental elements that compose diversity would be part and parcel with rendering our bike rides to mere routine.  

As someone who cycles almost daily, a huge aspect of my pleasure regarding the ride is the unknown factor.  Getting on the bike, moving forward and not knowing what exactly to expect or when to expect it is one reason why cycling can in and of itself be regarded as an act of grace.  The cyclist has the creative freedom to go whenever one wants, at whatever pace desired to whatever location determined.  Cycling is very much an equivalent to making abstract art in the sense that we work with available resources to produce something that is entirely unique and dependent on variables that are both within and simultaneously beyond our control.  From a harsh head wind that holds strong for countless miles to a sweeping descent that carries us effortlessly down a lengthy pass, we have certain parameters within which we can play and allow to help create a unique, new journey every time.

The elements are your friend

There is something to be said for the individual that treats adverse weather conditions as a something not to fear and avoid, but as a sometimes unexpected companion that can show us a thing or two about ourselves.  For when we allow ourselves to be taken by the ever changing climate we are at the same time allowing ourselves to acknowledge life as it is; a shifting sphere of movement that we are inexorably forced to move along with.  By allowing ourselves to dance with the massive force of energy that is nature, we are in a symbolic way opening our lives to the flood gates of the unknown.  

Whether deliberately or not we become exposed to unexpected torrential downpours, unrelenting waves of heat or blankets of blinding snow we open up a dialogue with the inevitable.  In these moments we tell the universe that we will not allow ourselves to become victimized by the uncontrollable but will do what it is that we can to work harmoniously with it. It is only by submerging ourselves in such environments that we gain the abilities and resilience to continue moving forward, without fear of what is to come.  Similar to acquiring a cold or a bad flu we must expose and harden ourselves to the elements of life and change, whether on the bike or not.  

Knowing the limits and testing ourselves

the highly decorated Bernard Hinault (5 time tour
de france winner)  embraces the winter life of a cyclocross
rider.  Mud, rain, snow and ice are staple aspects of
 cyclocross that often force riders to find non-conventional
methods of navigating terrain via bicycle

To broaden our horizons we must dabble a bit with the unknown by getting our feet wet so to speak.  For when we engage in diversified, even seemingly non related activity, we can strengthen what it is we may already seem proficient in.  It is the equivalent of developing the abdominal muscles and hip flexors to aid in a full bodied, fluent pedal stroke when general consensus sees the legs as doing most of the work. 

 By abandoning various metrics like heart rate, wattage output, vo2 max intake and lactic/anabolic thresholds we can begin to focus more on what is important to our own direct experience; an intimate ride that involves working within our unique abilities.  If all one can handle is a 10 minute semi-freezing downpour before numbness and similarly threatening physiological conditions present themselves then so be it; hang up the hat and call it a day.  Like anything else in life one must ask how else we will know what we are capable of without giving it a go to one degree or another.  It is when we let our expectations of the ideal circumstance go to the wayside the we truly allow ourselves to jump into the unknown territory.  Thankfully for us, the unknown does not have to be black or white but can instead be a gradual acclimation to what we are not yet capable of or familiar with.

The motorist/cyclist dichotomy

If there is one thing that has seemingly followed me everywhere within my handful of years riding it is, in a word vulnerability.  Cycling in the city is a fine-line dance between gliding gracefully through the ebb and flow of people, cars, infrastructure and terrain while avoiding accident, harassment, anxiety and humiliating faux pas.  The act can be equally elating and inspiring as it can be dangerous, uncomfortable and disenfranchising.  As cyclists we are constantly engaging in an activity that renders us, to one degree or another vulnerable.  Managing to co-exist and navigate the ever changing urban landscape can seem at times to be as much a test of patience and sanity as it is of pleasurable sporting.

The car is not your enemy

There seems to be a common school of thought with many cyclists that very much parallels the "us vs them" mentality when it comes to automobiles and the people who pilot them.  The seeming lack of co-operation between cyclists and motorist appears on the surface to primarily be agitated by aggressive, impatient drivers who contend for the bulk of our road's real estate.  Often times, and more so than not, this has indeed been the case for many cyclists; but ultimately the situation is no where near as black and white as is often described. These daily commuters (motorists) are painted as materialistic, wasteful, incompetent and unaware while cyclists tend to benefit from the longer end of the stick.  All to often the cyclist is always seen as maintaining the "right of way" even in the most questionable situations.  Tough the stories have been told of how it is that cyclists struggle massively to operate within the confides of the cities motorist density, there seems to be an unwarranted amount of unwillingness on the part of the cyclist to function in conjunction with motorists than vice-a-versa.   By subscribing to divisive mentalities such as the aforementioned the cyclist puts them self in a dangerous box of self designated alienation.

Neither the bike nor the car win here..

You, me and the rest of us

Many a time I have watched aggressive cyclists pull off shenanigans that are not only endangering themselves but simultaneously bring risk to surrounding pedestrians and motorists alike.  Assuming a first priority role as a cyclist is almost a guaranteed way of  hurdling yourself into pain and creating a bigger mess out what usually starts as a small error.  Cutting off drivers, running clearly active red lights, speedily darting between cars in parking lots; these are staple examples of behavior that give cyclists a negative image and perpetuate the motorist/cyclist dichotomy.  By being unwilling to work with one another we build another wall for ourselves and further perpetuate the hostility and territorial attitudes that underscore urban navigation.  As the bike is supposed to embody acts of freedom, grace, and unhindered movement; division, unaccountably and incompetence will negate all such beauty via lack of co-existence.  In the same way that walking pedestrians nod heads and cast gentle glances to cyclists and people using other modes of transport (skateboards, roller blades, scooters ect) we as cyclists have a fundamental duty to support the atmosphere within which we operate.  It is to the degree that we view our neighbors (yes motorists) as alien that we will continue to the very same degree see a negative split in our social fabric.  We are in this together after all; so lets think about treating one another like so.

My bicycles are not....

going to be anywhere near the fastest.  They wont be as aerodynamic and lightweight.  My bicycles will not shift as quickly or as have as many gears for that matter.  They won't win me any state championships or receive cred points from the uber tech road, mountain or cross crowd.  They wont have me taken seriously by most bike shops in town. 

 But... my bicycles are wonderful and I love them.  They do exactly what it is that I want and need them to do.  They allow me to affordably build a comfortable and fun platform to play with.  My bikes are reliable, made from materials that will last longer than me if cared for and will give me an incredible return for the time and money invested in them.  My bicycles give me the creative freedom to mix and match parts as I please with very little effort and cost to maintain.  They allow me to break from the stranglehold that the mega bicycle giants have suffocated the vast majority of the cycling industry and it's consumers with.  

My bikes are old but I love and care for them as if they were made yesterday.  They bridge the gap between old-school time tested reliability and new-school technological refinement.  They are specific to no era, cycling genre or cultural confinement.  My bicycles were made to do what I desired for me, and no one else.  Each one represents a unique purpose and approach to different styles of riding.  

If my bikes fit in with the crowd so be it.  If not, so be it.  All I want to do is ride and have fun in the process.  I want to be honest with myself by riding within my abilities and building bicycles within my financial parameters.  For those of you who can accept and embrace these things for what they are, please come out and have some fun with me.  Lets ride together and play in a judgement free way. 

Working a year in the bike shop

Being that i have done very little reportage of my experiences at the shop, some of you may not know that I actually work as a mechanic and sales/person at Stevie's Happy Bikes in Corrales, New Mexico.  Since last January I have seen a tremendous amount of new and old design, perspectives, abused/loved bikes and various customer/employee/distributor gripes and praise.  There has been so much in terms of repetition, obscurity, quaintness and both consistency and inconsistency that has allowed me to get more real world experience needed to confidently step further in the direction of independent bicycle repair, even after having done so for friends and acquaintances on and off for 9 years now.  From embarrassing mechanical faux pau to on the fly problem solving, the wealth of experience gained from having worked these 9-6, 3 days a week shifts for the last year has been invaluable to me.  Discovering first hand, on an ultra-regular basis what it is that people want and need and conversely do not want or claim to not need has allowed me to hone in what I believe to be critical skills for any bicycle mechanic or DIY neighborhood bike tinkerer.  You simply need feedback, hands on experience and failure to discover what works and what doesn't; Stevie's has helped grant me that for the last year, and I am so glad that I have been brought on to wrench and work with customers as well as learn and continue to grow.

What would inevitably become a common sight, Stevie (front) hauling
gear in the child carrier, Ben (middle) breaking in his new and soon to be
 favorite toy, and Vaughn (rear) getting silly for the photo.  A commute into the shop..

Shop Life

 Nearly every day entering the shop I was greeted to the sight of something new and different; cruiser, mountain, bmx, road, fixed gear, triathalon, city, dirt jumper, touring, unicycle, trike and tandem ect.  From China to Mexico, Japan to Belgium, bikes of all types and ages (both ultra vintage and uber new school) were presented in a variety of condition.  Though sometimes relatively well kept, most bikes were very much hammered: left outside to the elements or conversely ridden in a relentless fashion with not even the slightest basic upkeep.  This is and will always be part and parcel to the job, and to expect otherwise is simply naivety.

To do this kind of work for a living you really have to love it and all of its facets, some being far more along the lines of communication than actual repair.  Dealing with customers while being understanding, flexible and concise is just as integral to bicycle repair as turning a wrench.  It is by seeing that there is no one without the other that the human interaction factor becomes equally enjoyable and exciting of an experience as repairing bicycles themselves.  There will always be peripheral banter and heavily opinionated personalities that want to dominate conversations or chime into flex their proverbial guns, but only patience and death via kindness will tame the beast. Being a great bike mechanic means being completely comfortable with the fact that many, if not most are going to have substantially differing points of view than yourself.  From the type of bikes to ride to the intended areas in which to ride them, everyone has a unique opinion, preferred bicycle style and level of interest.  It is simply in both the mechanic and customers best interest to be understanding and respectful of various perspectives.

This is our first point of contact.  Ghetto bike love at its finest!

For the love of the wrench

It takes a particular kind of individual to work with the same variables day in-day out and still be just as motivated and intrigued as one was from the beginning.  Some get burnt out, tired, or just simply annoyed with the environment and what comes with the territory; sometimes to the degree that something new must come along for them to stick around.  Working for/as a bike shop on paper seems simple enough; repair two wheeled things and then ride/return them to their respective owner/s.  Crude though the aforementioned may be, there is some truth to it: we do fix bikes, and then fix more of them when we are finished.

 When it comes to doing what I do, the bottom line is that I first and foremost enjoy it.  No one ever forced me to do this work and it is for that very reason that I can choose to walk away if I ever decide, for whatever reason, that it is no longer for me.  I simply love bicycles, riding them, learning  the history, admiring the aesthetics of various design and the beautiful art of gracefully propelling one into motion.  For me it was always passion before money, because just like with my previous job as a metal fabricator, there is very little revenue involved.  The idea of gritting your teeth as you go home tired, dirty and underpaid doing something you don't care for is seemingly insane to me.  I couldn't imagine enduring either the monetary or physiological sacrifice involved if I didn't truly care about what I was doing.  For me repairing and building bicycles has so much importance and so many benefits (I will save that rant for another post) that I simply feel blessed to be able to do what I do and get by with the standard of living that I am able to maintain in the process.  I look forward to making the most out of the time that I continue to spend at Stevie's and look to absorb as much as possible in the process.  I am still very much a student and recognize that I must acknowledge this in order to continue learning, craft new approaches, modify outdated points of view and allow for new experiences to unfold to their fullest potential.

 I would love to thank everyone that has helped me along the way.  From the regulars at Stevie's who have helped contribute to the playful dynamic to the people who have reached out for bike work outside of the shop to help me keep some extra cash on hand; I am massively grateful.  It's been a hell of a ride so far and I very much look forward to the rest, whatever that may look like.  

For the love of wide tires

There seems to be something fundamentally pleasing about knowing the simple fact that you can, and indeed may jump at the opportunity of taking your two wheeled adventure off the course of trajectory at any moment, for any given reason.  It isn't that you always end up doing so, but the sheer fact that you can jump around in various ways gives rise to a satisfaction that leaves one feeling as if options a far less restricted. Though a bike with wider tires is very much a compromise in weight and sometimes speed, the compromise is more times than not entirely justifiable and healthy when the variables are weighed out.  For most of us who don't race bikes and never will, the pro/con ratio seems to greatly gravitate toward the previous.  Though the latter is very much a reality to varying degrees, it is often times more negligible than initially realized; at least this was the case for me.

Sifting through the rough

For the majority of the last century general consensus regarding tire width and overall speed has supported an inversely proportional correlation.  The wider the tire, the slower the ride; simple.  These ideas and claims have been generally accepted by the masses and spearheaded by big-box bike manufacturers to sell more (you guessed it) bicycles. Slightly lower coefficients of friction and aerodynamic drag (i.e. faster) will sell supposedly quicker bicycles as the winners of out favorite races solidify the notion that skinny tires will be faster and reign supreme.  A massively fundamental problem here is that the big governing bodies of aforementioned races such as the one day classics and the grand tour stages races force contestants to operate with insanely tight parameters of what it is they constitute a road bike to be.  With geometry being limited to particular wheelbase dimensions, tube angles and frame clearances, it is no wonder that we never see these racers doing what they do on tires with greater width. 

Cyclocross racing is a very good example of this.  Bikes that are very similar in geometry and build to road bikes are used with slightly larger tires (33mm being the width restriction) with knobs for extra traction in muddy, sandy, loose and wet conditions for the majority of all events.  The bottom line here is that there is very little speculation left as to whether or not a wider tire (up to a certain width) will handle, grip and suspend better than it's narrow counterparts. 

Tire width to volume ratios listed in ascending order from left to right

Conversely, from about 2013-2015 we saw serious marketing hype that gravitated toward the opposite extreme end of the spectrum with tire widths (i.e. fat bikes).  The claim with oversized fat tires is that one can "float" over just about anything in sight; there is indeed truth here but it comes at a huge cost.  With extreme tire widths around the 4-5" mark, your tire can conform to just about any surface in sight.  Extremely loose surfaces like sand and powdered snow are rendered negotiable with the footprint a fat bike creates.  The problem with tire widths such as these is that the moment one enters road again (tarmac, gravel or even semi rough trail) the heavy weight, drag, and aerodynamic effect of such tires greatly outweighs the temporary benefit depending on the duration of the ride.  Gauging your riding style is the key to honing in the middle ground that grants you the best of both narrow and wide tire options.

Finding diamonds

 If riding clean road is your primary day-in day-out occurrence, it makes much more sense to use tires that teeter toward the narrower end of the spectrum.  Depending on the load you haul, a 28-32c tire is a sensible option for most road bikes as both vintage and somewhat modern steel bikes will clear a tire around that size.   For reasons mentioned above, most modern road bike tire clearances dictate a narrow width of 25mm.  Unfortunately anything beyond these widths in such cases is simply a non-option.

 By running the widest tires possible in your road bike you will gain a greater contact area for better handling, more air volume for greater pneumatic suspension and a wider footprint for conformity to road irregularities.  For what you pay in the marginal weight gain (around 100 grams or so between tube and tire difference for a 23c vs 32c width) and the extremely marginal aerodynamic drag that incurs (think less than 1% here) you will gain a more comfortable and stable ride.

the differences between narrow and wide tire contact patches

  If you are working with something like an older touring or mountain bike frame, even wider tires are highly encouraged depending again on load and terrain.  Supported findings have shown that dabbling beyond the 32c mark also shows marginal penalty for the added benefit.  Something around the 42mm (1.75") is a very healthy, happy medium for riding that entails some gravel, crush refine, hard pack dirt or heavily inconsistent pavement.

Catering to your needs

At the end of the day what it all really boils down to is you paying attention to the kind of riding you are doing (or want to do for that matter) and setting up your rig accordingly.  If you constantly find yourself riding on immaculately groomed pavement, width and tread is less of a concern as opposed to the varying terrain that composes much of suburbia and outer city fringes.  Having experimented with most tire sizes commonly available, from the extra thin to extra thick, i have found that the additional bit of width has enabled me to comfortably ride in a longer, more comfortable and versatile fashion with less hesitation and concern.  Ultra fat tires and super skinny tires both have their place, but the real question is figuring out what that means for you and your particular needs.

Second hand bikes: Contemplating the merits of restoring and repurposing.

In an world of seemingly perpetual waste and planned obsolescence, a bicycle platform that endures the test of time and serves numerous years of use has become rendered a thing of yesteryear.  Today's industry standards last long enough to blink the eye a few times only to reopen with the view of a new "it" size, material, design and designated use.  Innumerable bikes with innumerable niches fill the market in such a dense fashion that it is no wonder how and why the Craig's List bicycle pages fill anew after only a few hours having lapsed.  Yesterdays mountain bike is today's obsolete "donor" bike that at best tends to serve as a component platform to build up yet another new bike with supposedly better aforementioned attributes.  The preexisting frame set usually ends up being stored in a garage for years, sold away as scrap or if lucky, pawned off for a few extra dollars to facilitate that new build.  Seldom it is these days that bearings, shocks, brake parts and drivetrains are cross compatible enough to mix and match one derailleur with another, one rear shock for the next.  Sometimes you get lucky with a bicycle that manages to swallow up most of the parts in that box that was created when the last project was stripped down,  but the real question that looms here is whether or not we need anywhere near as many bikes as most of us self proclaimed "bike nerds" own, or if the cyclical tide of seemingly  endless upgrades is indeed necessary, resourceful or cost effective altogether.  To explore the question is to simultaneously explore inherently foundational facets that compose the bicycle industry as we know it today.  What is found can be seen as something that stimulates a massive portion of the economy which in principle, generates equal business in virtually every other niche in the world of retail.

Having formerly frequented the scrap yards for
 years, I have seen images that directly parallel this.

 

Used is Bad

Over the last decade or so I have slowly discovered a painfully evident correlation that exists between manufacturer, consumer and the environment within which all parties operate:  what is good for people, products and our ever important planet is typically bad for the economy.  When a product is strong, highly serviceable and capable of enduring repetition, fill-in-the-blank manufacturer/designer/facilitator/ becomes incapable of doing the one thing that constitutes their sustenance: growing quickly.  Old bikes out on the road don't sell anything.  Old bikes receiving service oriented labor sells very little in the way of new componentry and lifestyle accessories.  Repair labor is and never will be a lucrative tangible in the eyes of the biggest companies that require no naming.  Without a constant flow of new product to hit the shelves, such companies will never fulfil the exponential growth models that compose the business plans of nearly every company that strives to be on top and branch into multinational status.  Paradoxical though it may seem, according to this worldview things must fail to work.  In order for things to fail, we need to either be sold just that, or conversely be sold the idea at the very least. If we constantly believe that what we have has become of little value in capacity, so long as we are feeble minded enough we will constantly consume, upgrade and entertain the notion that it may just be time again to jump on-board with the latest buzz idea of the year.  This simple yet dangerous notion epitomizes the very essence of what it means to be a consumer in modernity.

An image depicting the myriad breed of thin tired "road" bikes.

Used is good

When we are critical of our belongings and relationships, consumption habits and environmental pattern, it doesn't take much for one to see that in order to maintain the good, one must gravitate toward things that are conducive to longevity, growth and ultimately happiness.  When it comes to the simple device that is the bicycle, and the little-big world that we cycle around, the circumstances are no different.  As cyclists we hold an invisible torch of responsibility to contemplate our consumption habits just as in any other context.  We can either jump on the bandwagon of the "Newer is better" mentality that seems to permeate the airwaves, data streams and magazine pages, or put the foot down and say in one way or another that this ideal of overnight obsolescence is a thing of our past.  Almost more than any other does the bicycle industry as a whole exhibit double standards that render our "green" activities a farce.  What is so eco-friendly about deliberately disposing of a tool that was designed, manufactured and reallocated to end up in your possession?  What is it that makes a colossal stable of seldom ridden, semi to massively redundant bicycles a thing of our sustainable future when many of the worlds inhabitants will never see the luxury of two wheels between their legs.  Upon investigation and inevitably contrary to popular belief, this reemerging age of the bicycle is not as clean as we would like it to be.

Someone, somewhere, making good use
 of an early 90's French" mountain" bike.

Turning the pedals forward 

Never has there been a more important time for us all to consider the implications of our actions in a world of ever elusive resources, economic degradation and moral strife.  Bicycles are and will always be a simple object, suggestive of a classically simple activity.  Whether its daily commuting or innocent play, the bicycle ride is something that no one needs a small fortune to afford and enjoy.  To see your dollar, actions, and environment go as far as they can, it depends entirely on you and the next person to exhibit maturity and restraint in an age of excess and disposal.  To put thought, love and maintenance into the products we purchase and markets we support with our dollar can we make a difference today as we simultaneously set an positive example for those around us.  Maybe the next time we stop by the local bike shop for whatever may be on the list we can we consider the options for a brighter, more logical and sustainable future.

The roads speak to me

Here I am now, mounted to my steel steed of transport and play.  As I spin circles I feel as though I am gliding over the surfaces of the earth while maintaining a direct connection with what rests beneath.  Looking down reveals a vignette of things both long past and soon to come: Road.

Reading the road is like understanding an intimate language that transcends verbal communications of any sort.  To both feel and see while simultaneously adapting to the contours of the landscape strikes me as the equivalent of a sailor navigating the unknown vastness and uncertainty that is the sea.  You can only know it truly by approaching it and embracing it for what it is.  With unexpected ramps, winding switchbacks, varying terrain and seemingly endless flats with rolling hills, the land tells its story through innumerable subtle nuance.

 Great roads tell tales of conforming to the curvature of the plains, mountains, valleys and straits.  A path chronicles history over the decades past and suggests things such as an appreciation for nature (and often time a lack thereof), overzealous ambition, and both patience as well as hastiness. The plowing of bulldozers and digging of excavators inevitably differentiates the natural flow of continents from expedient routes of transport.  In turn the road reveals itself as unit of measure that is directly proportional to our willingness as humans to traverse the planet as it is.  Such aforementioned roads are the ultimate conveyors of our planet's current state.  They speak a language that has either a highly industrialized and mechanized dialect, or a gentle, admiration induced compassion for nature.

Although a blasted sliver of highway dissecting a colossal mountain pass may indeed facilitate quick movement, the greatest roads are indeed those of least resistance.  Simple in nature though they may be, the best paths speak volumes as they allow us to follow in the footsteps of those who paved the way with grace.  With respect and admiration, I now continue onward, feeling the textures translate through my bicycle and into my muscles, nerves and bones.  A direct translation is understood as I continue forward with receptivity being my key to movement, thus allowing me to bend and stiffen with the ebb and flow of the ride.  The road will only continue to afford me a wonderful journey so long as I am capable of speaking its language.  

Continue on road, and I will be here to listen.