Not too long ago I gave this bike a tune-up:
Which elicited the following comment:
I don’t know how you do it, but you’ve managed to take that beautiful Homer frame and build it with the scabbiest collection of parts bin detritus that it is so fugly it must be completely theft proof.
To be absolutely clear, I am not highlighting this comment because I am any way bothered or offended. On the contrary, I quite enjoy a little good-natured ribbing from a regular reader and commentatorator…and even if it hadn’t been good-natured and someone was actually trying to hurt my feelings it would be kind of sad if they succeeded in doing so by saying they didn’t like the way my bicycle looked. Calling someone’s bicycle ugly is a lot different than calling an actual person ugly–though I’ll try not to dwell too much on the fact that, like dogs, bicycles do tend to resemble their owners, and I suppose I too am often clad in a scabby collection of parts bin detritus.
But no, I enjoyed the comment, and I’ve certainly acknowledged the fact that the more time a bike spends with me the uglier it gets. In fact, that’s exactly why I’m highlighting it–because bicycle appearance and our collective obsession with it is an entertaining subject, and I take pride in what I choose to consider a practical approach to cycling, even if the truth is it’s probably less about practicality and more about my suffering from some sort of mild cognitive defect when it comes to aesthetics and bicycles. Like, this is me trying my absolute hardest:
I mean I think it looks fantastic. In fact, I tried so hard I even managed not to leave a gap behind the brake levers when I wrapped the bars, and that never happens:
Also, as far as the fit and the ride and the way all the parts work together, the bike is…well I don’t like to use the word “perfect,” but whenever I circle back to it I immediately enter into a state of deep contentment:
But sure, there’s still plenty to nitpick, and a true aesthete would have gone much further. They would have used a classier saddle, and a silver crank. Maybe the tape would even match that classy saddle, and they’d finish it with twine. As for me, I can’t really make myself care about that stuff enough to pursue it. If I already have a part and it works I’ll go for that first, and if there’s a roll of electrical tape handy you can be sure I’m using it. My brain is simply not wired for, say, this sort of thing, which I saw on Karl Farbman’s Facial Book page:
Like, never would it occur to me to get a custom stem so it matched the top of my headset:
We asked Rob English to build us a custom stem that allows the front brake cable to enter through the front of the stem, run internally, and exit from the underside directly above the front brake. Besides cleaning everything up considerably, it meant we could eliminate the traditional cable hanger underneath the stem and get the stem lower.
We also had Rob build it for a 1 1/8″ steerer and used a shim underneath so the outside diameter of the stem would match up much better with the top of the Chris King headset.
It’s a tiny detail. It’s also exactly the kind of detail that can completely change a bike.
Oh, sure, I’ll read all that, then I’ll look at the Farbman of which I am currently custodian…
…and I’ll note there are like fifteen different diameters happening:
I’ll even register that it sort of resembles the neck rings worn in certain parts of the world:
[Photo: Steve Evans]
But the crucial difference here is that I’ll do absolutely nothing about it.
And yes, obviously the correct portmanteau for a flat-bar Farbman would be “Flarbman”–and don’t think I haven’t thought about putting Choco bars on mine:
[The Homer, before it met with the ugly stick.]
So does my casual disregard for aesthetics coupled with my upright bar flirtation make me an “alt cyclist?” I turned to an anthropological study of that particular subculture to find out:
Well, I certainly have been thoroughly brainwashed by Grant Petersen in many respects:
Ask a cyclist about alt-cycling and they’ll likely mention all-terrain bikes, plainclothes rides, frame bags, and bikepacking. They may credit former Bridgestone bike designer Grant Petersen, who started the revered Rivendell Bicycle Works (based in Walnut Creek), with popularizing a more laid-back style of riding — less about speed than comfort and camaraderie — and the bikes that accommodate it. Devotees invoke athletic and financial approachability and an anti-tech nostalgia.
Though I’ve never ridden from San Francisco to Los Angeles whilst free-bleeding:
This loose ethos has spawned a media ecosystem that includes magazines, zines, and the Path Less Pedaled(opens in new tab) YouTube channel, which represents a more accessible vision of riding. Marshall’s Low Pressure Zine is punk — Groves recalls reading a woman’s first-person account of riding her bike from San Francisco to L.A. while free-bleeding on her seat the whole time.
If you’re unfamiliar with free-bleeding, it’s the brakeless fixed-gear of menstruating.
The real question is was she using a Brooks, and if so was it covered?
On one hand, this seems counter to what free-bleeding is all about (at least according to my five seconds of research), but on the other you’d probably cover your Brooks if it rains so what’s the difference, really?
And yes, given my genderway I probably shouldn’t be opining on the ethos of free-bleeding, but let the record reflect that I was a menstrual cup influencer before it was cool:
Even so, I don’t think I qualify as an alt cyclist, because there’s no way I’m cool enough:
As we descended back toward the bridge, I considered the implications. If the concept of a fred exists in alt-cycling, is it really more welcoming than conventional cycling? Or does it just have a different set of ways to be cool — and corresponding ways to kook it? I never thought Leibow and his friends were judging me — they were really nice when I apologized for lagging on the climbs — but I felt lost, disoriented.
At best I exist in some profoundly uncool and nebulous region somewhere between Fred-dom, Alt-Cycledom, and Lone Wolf-dom.
And I’m perfectly content here all by myself.
I mean I’ve got multiple Rivendae and a Farbman, how could I not be?