As a cyclist, I wear many helmets, among them: crappy racer; irascible commuter; reclusive blogger; and cycling culture anthropologist. In the latter guise, I find it interesting when cycling makes cameos in the mainstream media, since it’s usually a pretty good idea of how the rest of the world sees us. It’s kind of like when punks would appear on shows like “Quincy” and “CHiPs” in the 80s, in that it usually ends up looking pretty dorky out of context. (Think “Quicksilver,” “American Flyers,” and even “The Flying Scotsman.”)
The latest place I’ve found cycling (or at least the subject of bicycles) has popped up is in Eric Clapton’s autobiography, “Clapton.” “Clapton” is currently #6 on the New York Times Hardcover Nonfiction Bestseller List, where it is sandwiched between “Quiet Strength” (“A memoir by the first black coach to win a Super Bowl”) and “Rescuing Sprite” (“A family’s love for an older dog they adopted”), proving once again that the only thing people love more than dogs is guitar virtuosity and football.
Some time ago, I mentioned that Eric Clapton owns a Cinelli track bike without bar tape, an alarming fact which I learned from Dave Moulton. Here it is:
If you don’t know who Eric Clapton is, he is a renowned guitarist who brought the blues to the mainstream. He was also an early adopter of tight trousers and the white man’s afro. Of course, while all of this is very important, I really only care about cycling, so I was curious to see if the subject appeared at all in “Clapton.” And it did, relatively early in fact, on page 10:
My first bike was a James, given to me by Jack [Clapton’s uncle] after I'd pestered him to give me a Triumph Palm Beach, like the one he had, which was metallic scarlet and cream and was as far as I was concerned the ultimate bike...
So what did young Eric do with this bike?
...by taking one of the brakes off, removing the mudguards, stripping it down, and giving it different tires--the kind for riding over mud--I turned it into what we call a “track” bike.
Indeed, years before Clapton was a pioneering musician--before there was even a fixedgeargallery.com or an internet for it to pollute--he was pioneering the conversion. Certainly this is some kind of cultural landmark. Moreover, the bicycle itself may just be the common ancestor of every trendy bicycle that has come after it. Surely, it is the Australopithecine of bicycles. One can only speculate as to what it would be worth today.
Intrigued, I read on. A lot of stuff happens in the next 300 pages, much of it interesting, but none of it is about cycling. He plays in the Yardbirds and Cream, he does LSD with the Monkees, he becomes a junkie and an alcoholic, and he steals one of the Beatles’ wives.
Then, on page 310, paydirt!
...Hiroshi came over to the hotel on his new Cinelli track bike... He is still a leading pioneer in street culture, hence the Cinelli. Track bike riding is taking over from skateboarding in Japan, and Hiroshi is in the avant-garde as usual. I have caught the obsession of course.
Hiroshi is Hiroshi Fujiwara, whom Wikipedia describes as “a popular Japanese musician, trendsetter, producer, and designer, born in 1964.” Throughout “Clapton,” Eric describes his enthusiasm for street culture. Certainly in the 60s he was a vital part of it, but once the book gets to the current century you get that same creepy feeling you get as a teenager when your 50 year old uncle wants to listen to your records with you to show you how hip he is. At any rate, here is Hiroshi working on one of his uber-chic fixed-gear freestylers, which should give you a pretty good idea of what he’s about:
My first bike was a James, given to me by Jack [Clapton’s uncle] after I'd pestered him to give me a Triumph Palm Beach, like the one he had, which was metallic scarlet and cream and was as far as I was concerned the ultimate bike...
So what did young Eric do with this bike?
...by taking one of the brakes off, removing the mudguards, stripping it down, and giving it different tires--the kind for riding over mud--I turned it into what we call a “track” bike.
Indeed, years before Clapton was a pioneering musician--before there was even a fixedgeargallery.com or an internet for it to pollute--he was pioneering the conversion. Certainly this is some kind of cultural landmark. Moreover, the bicycle itself may just be the common ancestor of every trendy bicycle that has come after it. Surely, it is the Australopithecine of bicycles. One can only speculate as to what it would be worth today.
Intrigued, I read on. A lot of stuff happens in the next 300 pages, much of it interesting, but none of it is about cycling. He plays in the Yardbirds and Cream, he does LSD with the Monkees, he becomes a junkie and an alcoholic, and he steals one of the Beatles’ wives.
Then, on page 310, paydirt!
...Hiroshi came over to the hotel on his new Cinelli track bike... He is still a leading pioneer in street culture, hence the Cinelli. Track bike riding is taking over from skateboarding in Japan, and Hiroshi is in the avant-garde as usual. I have caught the obsession of course.
Hiroshi is Hiroshi Fujiwara, whom Wikipedia describes as “a popular Japanese musician, trendsetter, producer, and designer, born in 1964.” Throughout “Clapton,” Eric describes his enthusiasm for street culture. Certainly in the 60s he was a vital part of it, but once the book gets to the current century you get that same creepy feeling you get as a teenager when your 50 year old uncle wants to listen to your records with you to show you how hip he is. At any rate, here is Hiroshi working on one of his uber-chic fixed-gear freestylers, which should give you a pretty good idea of what he’s about:
I was hoping that part of Clapton’s obsession with bicycles might involve riding them, but alas, this is not the case:
...I have begun buying vintage road bikes, not to ride but because I have always loved the equipment of cycling, especially bikes and accessories from the sixties.
So there it is. So what have I learned? Firstly, bicycles are very popular with the cultural elite, but as for riding them, not so much. Also, Eric Clapton gave up spending vast amounts of money on heroin and now spends vast amounts of money on things like boats. I’m not sure one’s better than the other, though I suppose the important difference is at least you can take your kids on the boat with you. Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, Eric Clapton corroborates a suspicion that many of us already had, which is that track bikes are indeed the new skateboard.
Nothing will make you more miserable than getting stuck in an endless cycle of “upgrading” your components. No matter what you’re using, some German weight-weenies will come out with something else that’s half the weight and twice the price. Furthermore, most people are riding too much bike anyway. If you’re riding Dura Ace, chances are you’d be perfectly fine with Ultegra. If you’re riding XT, you probably really only need LX. Like the new rider who thinks he has to push a 53x12 all the time, most of us are simply overgeared. So sell your carbon bars and replace them with aluminum ones. Ebay the Ksyriums and try some conventional wheels. By freeing yourself from the cycle you’ll worry a lot less and you’ll realize what you thought was an upgrade was actually the equivalent of diamond-encrusted gold fronts.
Certainly it would be ridiculous and wasteful to purposely damage your bike. However, letting it get scratched up a bit can be liberating. Nothing will limit your enjoyment of your bike more than fretting about its appearance and trying to preserve the fleeting thrill of purchase and acquisition for all eternity. Don't be like Cameron Frye's father in "Ferris Bueller's Day Off." This is the impulse that drives people to swaddle their bicycles in top tube pads and bandanas and treat them like lap dogs and bubble boys. Bicycle maintenance should only be about two things—keeping the bike working, and not letting it get stolen. The rest is a waste of riding time.
You’ve probably heard people say that certain bikes have soul. None of them do. That lugged steel Colnago, that Cinelli track bike, and even that Fat Chance mountain bike are all as devoid of soul as an Avril Lavigne record. I don’t care if Ugo DeRosa himself built your frame while drinking Chianti from a wicker-wrapped bottle, listening to Pagliacci on a warbly phonograph, and discussing the finer points of olive oil with Marcello Mastriani. Bikes don’t have souls—they have decals.
Sure, keeping your bike clean is important and makes parts last longer, but when you’re threading a rag between your cogs after every ride you probably need to loosen up. Floss after eating, not after riding. If you’re a compulsive cleaner, lay off the Simple Green for a few weeks and give the dirt a little time to attach itself before you rinse it off. I want to run my finger under that top tube and feel sweat crust.
Sure, some people just don’t have the time or the mechanical aptitude to work on their own bikes, and there’s nothing wrong with going to a shop when you get in over your head. But a lot of people don’t work on their bikes simply because they’re afraid of messing them up. If this is you, next time you need to repair or replace something get in there and do it yourself. Go ahead, strip a few bolts, scratch a few components, and mess up a few adjustments--it’s not the end of the world. Not doing your own work because you’re afraid of your bike is like taking the cheater line instead of trying to hop the log. Plus, leaving all the work to a shop means they set things up the way they think they should be set up, not necessarily the way that’s best for you. You should learn your own preferences, not have them dictated to you. After all, you choose your own underwear in the morning, right?
