As I sat down to write this article, I noticed that the battery on my laptop needed charging. I stood to reach for the charger, picked it up, and then watched helplessly as it slipped from my hand and pin-balled off every possible surface between my hand and the floor. I then muttered something that suggested it was birthed outside of wedlock and asserted that it may not in fact be comprised of plastic and electronics, but entirely of fecal material, as is the customary reaction to such events.
Having successfully insulted the inanimate object and thereby preserved my dignity, I picked it up (again) and unwound its cord which then promptly whipped around and smacked me in the face. On some days, I’ve come to learn, I just don’t have it.
This pattern of general discombobulation spread it’s tentacles beyond my benign computer-charging activity; it affected my cycling. Having spent 27 years climbing aboard a bicycle, most of the associated activities are second-nature and thus require very little focussed effort. Shifting, drinking from the bidon, clicking into the pedals; all these things happen without so much as a second thought and never do they require me to look down.
Or, I should say, almost never.
On this day I found myself with the chain crossed on two separate occasions; once on the little ring and once in the big ring. The fact that I only noticed I was in the big ring as I came to the top of a climb I found unusually difficult did little to temper my disgust at the incident. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not afraid of a chain cross out of necessity, but I’m usually aware of it. What I found intolerable was the simple fact that I was caught completely unaware; that the connection between rider and machine had somehow been severed. But what I found most insufferable was the fact that I had to stare down at my feet and concentrate on the pedals in order to clip into them, lest my foot was left to dangle uselessly in the air just adrift of my pedals. I’m surprised I didn’t drop my bidon while attempting to replace it in it’s cage. Infuriating.
But even on these clumsiest of days, I can still spin the pedals smoothly enough to lose myself in the sensation of flight as my machine and I sweep through a series of hairpin turns together. I find I can still breath in the delightfully damp smell of a stand of deciduous trees or the sunbaked smell of a cedar pine forest. I find I can still indulge in the urge to make my legs burn for no reason other than to quell the doubt that I still can. Even on these days, when all the little things seem to conspire together to wear at my patience, the beauty of The Ride still unfolds before me.
Vive la Vie Velominatus.
I know as well as any of you that I've been checked out lately, kind…
Peter Sagan has undergone quite the transformation over the years; starting as a brash and…
The Women's road race has to be my favorite one-day road race after Paris-Roubaix and…
Holy fuckballs. I've never been this late ever on a VSP. I mean, I've missed…
This week we are currently in is the most boring week of the year. After…
I have memories of my life before Cycling, but as the years wear slowly on…
View Comments
I have had Deep Thoughts(tm) about my connection to my machine. I read a review about the practical effect of Di2 electronic shifting. All the rage you know. Comes with a spiffy price, and apparently some of the skepticism of durability has now been dispelled. The reviewer noted that the shifting technique for Di2 is significantly different: you just slam the gear selection whenever and however you want. We have gotten so used to using the mechanical levers, that we don't realize how in tune we are with the pressure on the pedals at *just the right moment* when we're slipping the chain to different cogs. Di2 is reported to require none of that. Tap the lever, mash and unleash the V.
Having never ridden on Di2 (I blew all I had on my frame) this gets me thinking - I rather *like* the sensation of adjusting my stroke at just the right instant as I nudge the lever to make a gear change. There's a...imperceptible connection...its like I'm helping the Machine help me. We become one because we need each other. Oh, this is all flowerery bullshit, but you get the idea. I want to make love to the bike, not fuck it.
But in the spirit of that metaphor, we've all rather wondered just how nasty we could get by paying a LOT of money. Just to try it.
@StillSearching4
Inter-post reference (see recent comments on the "New V-Features" post).
@eightzero
Nipple lube. (OK, joke's wearing thin, I won't persist, I apologise and withdraw (fnarr fnarr), etc.)
I had a similar but luckier day.
I had chain suck today and calmly rode about 10km until the next stop sign to check the frame damage. When I tried to unclip the left foot it wouldn't go and I luckily hopped the front wheel over before I fell. I then flipped the bike over to see the damage only to see that there was no sign of anything having happened. A couple disasters averted.
To finish up the ride, I went through a photo radar fast enough to trip it.
I broke a chain tonight, ten minutes into a group ride. I initially thought it was because I'd installed it incorrectly - I'd shoved an old pin through after cleaning it instead of getting a joining pin. It was a humiliating experience, since I identify quite closely with my bikes and if I do something wrong I take it personally. But now I know the real reason - I read this post about mechanical fuck ups before the ride and was cursed. Given how superstitious cyclists are, this post is cursed. It is the post you don't talk about.
@frank... great article... love this series
@eightzero... I'm with you... I'm not sure how I feel about Di-2... On the one hand, the engineer in me thinks it is cool... Bikes catching up with fighter planes and cars and moving beyond the 'fly by wire' school of thinking, which as we all know is flawed because wires stretch and break, and expand and contract at different temperatures, requiring constant attention, tweaking and maintenance... But on the other hand, it offends my belief in the purity of cycling and self-sufficiency... In my head, I always imagined that when the apocalypse comes, I'll quickly stockpile an everlasting supply of Vittoria Open Corsas, and be able to carry on riding, Mad Max- like, long after civilisation as we know it has ended (hopefully wearing less black leather), because I'll be able to maintain my machine - for my lifetime at least - without requiring electricities, laptops or starbucks... Although thinking about it, I may need to get a cross-bike 'cos the road surfaces ain't going to improve, and I'll need to find a way to keep my shotgun (barrels and butt sawn-off for weight saving on the climbs, drilled-out carbon fibre pistol grips to match the bike) in my jersey pockets so it doesn't interfere with my stroke... Anyhow, I digress
... What I like about your post is that you've reminded me there is an art to shifting properly that will be lost when we are all on Di2 or whatever the Campag version will be (Italians and electronics... hmmm, a heady mix)... And yes, you old dogs out there will point out that we lost something when we moved from down tube friction levers to ergo shifters, but that was before my time (but I still LOVE the stories... The Stig, our tame racing cyclist, tells about using his knee to slam it into a bigger gear as he winds up his sprint... Or having to listen for changes in breathing from the peloton behind you to work out when the attacks are coming, because there was no tell-tale 'click' when they were up-shifting...etc)...
My post is already too long, but your post reminds me of a ride I did with @Houdini a while back... I had hoped he was on a jour sans (see what I did there, Frank?) as he hadn't started great, and was looking a funny colour (we'd been "carbohydrate loading" in liquid form 'til quite late the previous evening), but 30k in he found his legs, and was beginning to subtly apply pressure, just squeezing those pedals a little harder... No outward signs of doing anything different, if anything, looking more nonchalant and deadpan than usual... The usual passive aggressive stuff. The road was a false-flat, 3-4 percent, dead straight before rearing up half a klic ahead into the trees into an ugly 12 - 16 per cent ramp. I secretly vowed to myself not to buckle, and that I wouldn't leave the big ring until he did, so we carried on, pretending that nothing was going on, whilst our legs burned, our lungs seared and beads of sweat formed on our faces from the effort of maintaining our outwardly cool demeanour and easy breathing.
... 400m further on, with my legs caving and my inner chimp screaming Nooo!, and the road tilting only one-way, I knew I had to punch out (Top Gun reference: "it's too steep, I'm switching to guns")... At the exact same moment, Houdini did the same... Simultaneously, we pressed all four of our 'go' buttons, executing two perfect, synchronised double-shifts: big to small at the front, two up at the rear... We looked at each other, revelled in the beauty of the moment for a few seconds... And then broke out into fits of hysterical giggles... We crawled up that ramp, looking anything but pro, with no rhythm, style or panache, but really, really happy... I'll never forget the moment.
It just wouldn't have been the same with Di2... And that makes me melancholy.
Sorry for going on a bit.
@roadslave
If your post had a "Like" button, I'd lube, er no, click it...
@roadslave
feel free to go on as long as you like when you are producing posts as interesting as that. Chapeau!
@King Clydesdale
The V Bank - I like it.
@roadslave
+1 I'm welling up!
@Chris
Maybe we need a "Lube +1" button instead of a "like" button... hrmm...