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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@Buck Rogers Forgive me if this comes off as comparing my experiences to yours in service as mine do not compare. That said, I can relate to the boot story. I bought a new pair of Red Wing classic mocs this spring before this summer's expedition. They were my wet boots, every day, for 70 days, and 1200 miles. They will never be the same again and I can't bring myself to try to bring them back. They're shriveled and worn and tell many stories. Now they sit.
Incredible stories of cycling and life from the Velominati. Chapeau.
Photo above ( from iPhone @frank ) iss of my grandfather in his racing days (left side as you look at picture ) before being hit by a car during a race from Adelaide to Goolwa (South Australia).
I often wonder now what stories the dirt on his bike and clothes would tell. Hard men back in those days.
The Fuji doesn't see much dirt, but on the odd occasion it has, its quite liberating, and a sense of even more freedom prevails
@Marko It was nothing like the Heck but I had to overhaul my BB after Eggtimer's Gran Fondo, due to the unpaved portion of the ride. It was a most rewarding bit of wrenching.
@Marko how is that seat tube holding up?
@Barracuda
That photo of your grandfather is amazing in its own right. But for it to be a part of your family history is truly a treasure. Thanks for sharing it.
The British Government have announced that in the 2011 population census will be the last. This is all a great shame: I would have been proud to have listed my religious beliefs on future census papers as 'Velominati'. Let's face it: it fits the bill of an organised religion. Monty Python would be able to make a worthwhile parody of our activities (Life of Eddy?) It's a way of life that is frowned upon and/or laughed at by some and considered worthy by others. We have fundamentalist factions, we have enemies. We have places (some more holy than others) we have religious icons and artefacts and methods of worshipping them. Now it would appear we have holy mud.
All hail the holy mud! it's a miracle!
Excellent stuff.
As keeper of the Heck of the North, I am beyond honored to share gravel in the same sentence with the truly great events of this sport. Thank you for witnessing what we have in this corner of the world.
@jeremy kershaw
What you have done with the Heck is such a fun contribution to cycling. Plus, it gives sods like us shit to write and talk about. So thanks again. But let's not talk about this corner of the world, we don't need any more people.