Dear Dennis,
It gives me great pleasure to finally submit a bike to fixedgeargallery. Here is my story.
Seven years ago, after discovering fixedgeargallery, I decided to build my own fixed-gear bike. I studied the gallery entries obsessively, I went to every bike shop in town, and I read every word on Sheldon Brown’s site. Still, I did not have a clear vision in my mind’s eye of what my fixed-gear bicycle should be. I needed to know more.
In 2002 I traveled to Italy in order to immerse myself in cycling’s rich culture and history. I visited the Vigorelli velodrome, I made a pilgrimage to the Sanctuary of the Madonna del Ghisallo, and I even took part in an obscure ritual which consisted of drinking mulled wine from a cycling shoe that once belonged to Fausto Coppi. But still, I felt no closer to realizing my ultimate fixed-gear bike.
Once I recovered from the severe bacterial infection I got from Coppi’s shoe, I decided to head to Japan. I thought that perhaps the land of keirin and NJS componentry would be able to teach me what Italy had not. Unfortunately, since I was unable to speak Japanese I found the intricacies of keirin racing to be largely inscrutable. Despondent, I set about roaming the countryside. Eventually, I wound up in Nara, where I learned two things. Firstly, the famous “tame” deer that roam the town are not really tame at all—in attempting to feed one I sustained a groin injury that required a two-night hospital stay and a course of aggressive acupuncture to cure. Secondly, during a visit to a Shinto shrine that I thought was a bike shop, I discovered Zen.
Of course, I had heard of Zen before, since nearly all fixed-gear riders use it to describe the connection they feel with their bikes. However, I had always just assumed it was a kind of clipless pedal system. It turns out though that Zen is actually a complete letting-go of one’s self-consciousness that allows one to travel down the path to enlightenment, or something like that. And once I knew that, I knew that I could use Zen to help me on my own path towards discovering my inner fixed-gear.
What followed was a five-year crash course in Buddhism that took me across the entire continent of Asia. One of those years was spent observing a vow of silence, two of them were spent traveling from Lhasa to Dharamsala entirely in prostration, two more were spent in a Buddhist monastery, and three weeks were spent entirely on a toilet when I broke a fast with what turned out to be a really, really rancid cup of yak butter tea. And then, one day, during a visit to the Mahabodhi temple in Bodhgaya, it finally came to me as I sat under the Bodhi tree. Total fixed-gear enlightenment.
I do not agonize over whether to use an Aerospoke or a Deep V on the front, since my front wheel is the eight-spoked Wheel of Dharma. I do not worry about what color my top tube pad should be because my crotch is protected by right mindfulness. And I don’t worry about finding time to ride, because I have no job and years of spiritual exploration have rendered me completely unemployable.
As you can tell from the picture (I chose a beach shot because I don't have a record collection and I couldn't find a Buddhist-themed graffiti mural), my bike is unlike all others, and reactions to it when I show up at the bar are varied. Many are confused. Some are appreciative. And one guy just punched me in the neck. (Getting punched in the neck really hurts.) But I have been liberated from the material constraints that have prevented so many riders before me from experiencing the true joys of fixed-gear cycling. I now feel totally connected to the bike.
Really great site. Paypal on the way.
Seven years ago, after discovering fixedgeargallery, I decided to build my own fixed-gear bike. I studied the gallery entries obsessively, I went to every bike shop in town, and I read every word on Sheldon Brown’s site. Still, I did not have a clear vision in my mind’s eye of what my fixed-gear bicycle should be. I needed to know more.
In 2002 I traveled to Italy in order to immerse myself in cycling’s rich culture and history. I visited the Vigorelli velodrome, I made a pilgrimage to the Sanctuary of the Madonna del Ghisallo, and I even took part in an obscure ritual which consisted of drinking mulled wine from a cycling shoe that once belonged to Fausto Coppi. But still, I felt no closer to realizing my ultimate fixed-gear bike.
Once I recovered from the severe bacterial infection I got from Coppi’s shoe, I decided to head to Japan. I thought that perhaps the land of keirin and NJS componentry would be able to teach me what Italy had not. Unfortunately, since I was unable to speak Japanese I found the intricacies of keirin racing to be largely inscrutable. Despondent, I set about roaming the countryside. Eventually, I wound up in Nara, where I learned two things. Firstly, the famous “tame” deer that roam the town are not really tame at all—in attempting to feed one I sustained a groin injury that required a two-night hospital stay and a course of aggressive acupuncture to cure. Secondly, during a visit to a Shinto shrine that I thought was a bike shop, I discovered Zen.
Of course, I had heard of Zen before, since nearly all fixed-gear riders use it to describe the connection they feel with their bikes. However, I had always just assumed it was a kind of clipless pedal system. It turns out though that Zen is actually a complete letting-go of one’s self-consciousness that allows one to travel down the path to enlightenment, or something like that. And once I knew that, I knew that I could use Zen to help me on my own path towards discovering my inner fixed-gear.
What followed was a five-year crash course in Buddhism that took me across the entire continent of Asia. One of those years was spent observing a vow of silence, two of them were spent traveling from Lhasa to Dharamsala entirely in prostration, two more were spent in a Buddhist monastery, and three weeks were spent entirely on a toilet when I broke a fast with what turned out to be a really, really rancid cup of yak butter tea. And then, one day, during a visit to the Mahabodhi temple in Bodhgaya, it finally came to me as I sat under the Bodhi tree. Total fixed-gear enlightenment.
I do not agonize over whether to use an Aerospoke or a Deep V on the front, since my front wheel is the eight-spoked Wheel of Dharma. I do not worry about what color my top tube pad should be because my crotch is protected by right mindfulness. And I don’t worry about finding time to ride, because I have no job and years of spiritual exploration have rendered me completely unemployable.
As you can tell from the picture (I chose a beach shot because I don't have a record collection and I couldn't find a Buddhist-themed graffiti mural), my bike is unlike all others, and reactions to it when I show up at the bar are varied. Many are confused. Some are appreciative. And one guy just punched me in the neck. (Getting punched in the neck really hurts.) But I have been liberated from the material constraints that have prevented so many riders before me from experiencing the true joys of fixed-gear cycling. I now feel totally connected to the bike.
Really great site. Paypal on the way.
