As someone who was once the Internet’s foremost chronicler of the minimalism movement, I likely understand better than anybody the feeling of freedom that comes with simplifying your life. So with the ‘Noner now re-homed, it occurred to me that I should keep the momentum going and send another bike packing too. But which?
Well, even without the ‘Noner I’ve got more road bikes than I need at the moment, and so I figured it was finally time to return the LeMond to Classic Cycle. But first I figured I’d take it for a quick farewell ride:
A few pedal strokes later, I decided I’m still not ready to part with it. Why? It’s just so nice. This was the second time I’d decided to return it and chickened out; the first was a few weeks ago when I took a bike box down from my storage shelf, opened it up to pack the bike, then closed it and put it right back up on the shelf.
This underscores the fundamental challenge fancy road bikes pose to dirtbag cyclists such as myself. See, dirtbag cyclists aren’t dirtbags because they’re lazy or slovenly or neglectful. On the contrary; dirtbag cyclists are dirtbags because they’re perfectionists. A featherweight carbon and titanium Dura-Ace-equipped race bike like LeMond appeals to the perfectionist hidden deep within the dirtbag. However, it also compels them to fuss and tweak and even (gasp) clean, whereas when they’re riding, say, an beat-up old Faggin, it’s too far gone aesthetically for them to even bother with, which is in itself a form of perfection. This allows them to relax:
It’s like getting dressed up to go to a fancy restaurant. Yes, the food’s fantastic, but you keep checking to make sure you didn’t get any sauce on your crisp white shirt. During the height of the fixie craze this sort of fussiness resulted in the top tube pad phenomenon:
Which is like going to a fancy restaurant and sticking your napkin in your collar:
Now, consider the wisdom of the Buddhists:
They understand that suffering is the root of desire. You want the nice bike, and that hurts. You think getting the bike will make everything all better. But then you get the nice bike but it still hurts, because now you’re worrying about it instead of enjoying it. That’s why the Dalai Lama still rides an old fixie conversion with flop-and-chops even though those Himalayan roads would be the perfect excuse for him to buy the newest and latest gravel bike as well as lots of gear from Rene Herse:
Social media is even worse. A fancy bike may send you into a spiral of minute cockpit adjustments and cog-flossing, but on social media society’s the bike and you’re the preening roadie who’s overly preoccupied with everyone else’s sock height:
Imagine caring about so many ridiculous things simultaneously–and I say this as a bike dork! That Tweet is an exquisite concerto of smugness. Incidentally, minimalists and advocates have a lot in common. For example, as I noted in the aforelinked post, minimalists use all the same crap the rest of us do, but they like to brag about how they don’t own it because it technically belongs to their domestic partner:
And so do advocates:
Sure, you “don’t own a car.” This is like having a vegan spouse who is constantly finishing your turkey club:
[“Here, just take it for chrissakes!”]
Or like a bike blogger who laughs at people who obsess over social media while obsessing over what people are saying on social media:
And not just stuff people are saying on social media, but stuff people said on social media years ago! I really am pathetic.
At least I’ve mostly stopped posting on social media, which is something, though now people think I’m dead:
Sometimes I’m not sure myself.