It is no secret that love bikes. I love them. They are great for recreation, commuting, exercise. The way the chain wraps around the cogs, the feel of a smooth, freshly re-packed Campagnolo bottom bracket, the sound of your tires pulling rain off the pavement. Mountain, road, fixed, cruiser, recumbent, it doesn't matter - I love them.
So it was devastating today when a g-chat box from my friend Mike popped up at work. His rear wheel was messed up. Either the rim or the hub, or possibly something seemingly unrelated. I haven't looked at it yet.
If the g-chat box had told me about a broken down car, I wouldn't have felt so bad. I am not anti-car, they are useful inventions. But when a bicycle is ill, it is a different story. I have been trying to figure out why I feel like this all day. Chances are a broken car would be much more expensive to fix than a bike, and a bigger hassle, so I should feel worse about that, right?
It could be that I know Mike, and that he puts that bike to good use, snow or shine, so having it out of commission is a big deal. It might be because I feel that bikes are personal machines, they are individuals. Every bike I have worked on has its own personality, its own feel. They each have idiosyncrasies and nuances all their own. They are like people, in general terms they are all the same, wheels, frame, bar [eyes, arms, lungs], but if you take the time to get to know one, you will know there isn't another one like it.
Anyway, I love bikes.
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1 comment:
that was beautiful
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