"The test of the machine is the satisfaction it gives you. There isn't any other test.
If the machine produces tranquility it's right. If it disturbs you it's wrong ..."
-- Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
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| Bicycle chain and sprockets 4-11-14 |
"When man invented the bicycle he reached the peak of his attainments.
Here was a machine of precision and balance for the convenience of man.
And (unlike subsequent inventions or man's convenience) the more he used it, the fitter his body became.
Here, for once, was a product of man's brain that was entirely beneficial to those who used it,
and of no harm or irritation to others.
Progress should have stopped when man invented the bicycle."
-- Elizabeth Howard West, Hovel in the Hills
Sometimes I wish I was a professional cyclist -- not for the competition or the glory or the travel or the nifty jerseys -- but for the daily massages. Also, it'd be super nice to have a team of bike mechanics at my beck and call whenever I needed them.
I am not mechanical. Not even a little bit.
So when my road bike "Dolce" needs maintenance, I take her to my very mechanical bicycle mechanics, Ted and Rachel.
By the end of last season, Dolce's gears were missing a lot, as well as making some pretty unpleasant noises. I could only use two gears without a ton of interference and frustration. I tried riding on my indoor trainer, but the problems persisted. The only thing worse than riding on an indoor trainer, is riding a grindy-geared bike on an indoor trainer.
I looked for fix-it tips on YouTube, but I knew I was probably in over my head. For me, fixing my own bike would be like cutting my own bangs. I'd immediately regret it and probably only end up making things way, way worse.
So Dolce's been sitting neglected and unused in the basement, like a lonely kid in the corner, all winter.
I wasn't punishing her. I was just too damn lazy to get her fixed.
With the spring and summer riding season (hopefully) approaching, I finally got off my ass and dropped Dolce off at the bike shop for a checkup. I figured they'd have to twiddle a couple of wires, make some little adjustments, and I'd be good to go. Easy, right?
Not so much.
Ted called with the diagnosis.
It turns out my maintenance neglect over the past couple of seasons had caused some pretty significant damage. My chain was stretched beyond repair and I'd ground down the evenly-spaced nicely-rounded teeth on my front sprockets until they were snaggly, sharp, pointy little fangs.
But Ted and Rachel came to the rescue. They replaced the chain and both sprockets (and my trainer-bald rear tire) and I picked my bike up yesterday. She's good as new.
I love hanging around the bike shop. I love the intoxicating aroma of solvents and grease and rubber. Ted and Rachel are always so thorough about explaining what they did to fix my bike, and why, and how. They take the time to teach me how things got wonky in the first place, and what I can do to prevent future problems.
Sometimes I get the feeling Ted and Rachel love my bike more than I do.
It's a good thing they do.
Because it's that kind of love that keeps me riding. And it's riding that makes me indescribably happy.
Now if I could only get them to follow me around in a team car everywhere I ride.
