There's no bad bike

My original conceptual title for this post was, "Bad bikes are beautiful," And while I Abhor AbstAining from An AvAilAble AlliterAtion, the current title is far more true of my point of view, plus, it gives me a chuckle to see how many posts in a row I can start with "There's". Please forgive me; I could blame my degree in English for finding word play funny, but many with the same education are spared this dread affliction, so it's more likely a failing at the core of my sense of humor. But where was I? Ah yes, cruddy bikes! 

I love crummy bikes at least as much as I love crummy jokes and crumby cookies. There are lots of bikes in my garage, possibly on the logic that all of them in a pile would consume less space than a midsize sedan, but more likely, I just really like bikes.  One of those bikes, I ride as much as all the others combined, and it might aptly be described as a complete pile of poo. It's an early 90s mountain bike with a rigid fork, fenders held together with countless rivets and highway reflector brackets, a drivetrain and hub that should've been replaced six months ago (which I'll finally dismiss from duty after the road salt washes away), panniers hanging on by three and half threads, and a general state of "look at me wrong and I'll turn to dust before your eyes." I don't think much of this bike, and more importantly, I don't have to think about this bike very much, which is one of its greatest attributes: it has never caused me a moment of worry.

My clunker getting the job done

Years ago, I was asked what to look for in a commuter/utility bike.  My list was short: 

    1. It should be faster than walking.  Bikes are wonderfully simple machines and it is simply amazing how much can be wrong with them while still achieving this basic function.  Hurray!  

    2. If you need to lock said bike outside, it should still be there when you return.  Unfortunately, your bicycle, once stolen, no longer achieves characteristic #1, so while a light, high-tech bike might seem faster, once a thief finds it desirable and reduces you to walking, it is in fact extraordinarily slow.  Bummer.

My previous worst frame in the fleet

My last officially sanctioned bike race was the inaugural Hartford Cyclocross  event, run by my friend Brendan, who also happens to appreciate a rag tag bike here and there.  The race was four years after what I considered the end of my racing career, but it was local (I could ride my bike there!), my friend was the promoter, and I managed to barter a sweet Huffy frame with a black hammered paint job for my entry, so why not?  I pulled down my old Zanconato race bike and prepped it for Sunday.  Then it rained.  Then it rained some more.  Finally, it poured.  There were concerns the river might crest its banks and flood the course,and bikes were going to get trashed in the impending mud fest.  I looked at my gleaming Zanc with its freshly lubed chain and spotless pearl paint, sighed, then swung a leg over my thirty pound single speed mountain bike and headed for Hartford.  "Thirty pounds for a single speed?!?" you ask.  How could a bike with so few parts weight so much?  I'll give a hint: start with a frame that was literally found under a bridge.

Huffing and puffing with the Huffy

It was a hoot, and best of all, no ultra expensive unobtanium parts were damaged in the making of my racing experience.  I could simply hose off the mud, drop some oil on the chain, and keep riding it, until, sadly, years later the rear dropout broke on the way to meeting Brendan and another friend for ride through the same park along the river.  No tears were shed.  In fact, I still joined the fellows to ride, metering my pedal strokes into the wiggly back end, and figuring there were doubtlessly bicycles rolling around Hartford in far worse condition.  As if to prove me right, later in the day we happened upon this locked outside the Windsor Library:

Yes, those are blocks of oak sistering a broken downtube

Is this a screed against fancy, expensive bikes?  Gosh no!  (I'll save that post for another day.)  A light, fast bike moving at speed through the air is a wonderful thing, and people fortunate enough to experience such a thing should be grateful.  But for those of us who count ourselves as enthusiastic about bikes, let's take care against thinking that low end, or even box store bikes are without their merits.  Years ago, on a group ride, someone asked if another bunch of riders were on "real bikes," by which was meant: a set of wheels on which one could conceivable win a race.  I was quick to point out that "real bikes" in fact often cost less than $100 and were ridden by real people who needed a simple machine to get them where they were going, faster than walking and without a lot of fuss.  Meanwhile, the pricey, sub twenty pound steeds we were astride were obviously the product of someone's wild imagination.

So, simply, ride a bike, any bike, and appreciate those who do the same, in any form.