Not long ago I posted about bike components that were beat and battered, but still going strong, and was dismayed that I clearly failed to convey my message.

I won’t post a picture this time; I’ll just describe it. I am talking about an aesthetic appreciation of a well-worn but fully-functional object still doing its job. Something that is showing signs of age, but still going strong. Loved and appreciated for what it has already done and will continue to do. Imperfect, yet perfect.

Think of the way the black anodization has rubbed off the crankarms on an older bike, the color and texture has worn from a saddle, or a shiny spot has formed on the shifter. These items are worn, but still reliable. They give mute testimony to many miles traveled, hours enjoyed, to good times with friends. A few scratches and gouges may tell the story of a careless moment, may serve as a useful reminder not to get in over your head, may remind you to celebrate that epic ride you survived without injury.

I like to look at a beautiful new bike as much as the next guy, and admire some of the bikes others have built. And here I’m not talking about mere bling, but an aesthetic of clean design, where form follows function, and colors complement each other. Jeremy’s builds are a good example. Clean lines, quality components, a minimum of badges and decals. Sano. A beautiful and functional object, illustrative of the difference between style and fashion.

Think of some other well-worn objects you may value. Maybe that old wooden-handled framing hammer that fills your hand perfectly. The pocketknife your grandfather gave you. The revolver where the bluing has worn off from rubbing the holster.

I am definitely not talking about reverse snobbery, which is a reactionary antipathy to wealth or expensive objects one can't afford, and neither am I talking about shabby chic, in which used items are sought out as a fashion statement. And least of all absurdities such as designer torn jeans, distressed new furniture, and newly built rat rods. The genesis for those was that appreciation I speak of, but it devolved and warped into a fashion statement. Luckily I have not seen that yet in a mountain bike.

The Japanese have a term for this aesthetic, and that is “wabi-sabi”. It is more subtle and more complicated than my explanation, but it is the closest fit, and has become somewhat familiar in discussions of art, architecture, and interior design. And, inevitably, there is a fixie company using the name. But they are out to make a buck off it. Again, their bikes are not what I’m talking about.

I am not going to keep a broken, unsafe, or unreliable component on my bike. My jokes about starving children aside, I make a good living and cost is not an issue. But neither will I replace a perfectly functional component just to have one with a prettier color. I will wait until it wears out, and then get that pretty one to replace it. I will however readily upgrade to get lighter weight or better performance, and if that inherently more functional part is a good value and also looks really cool, all the better.

So, what I am talking about and really enjoy seeing is the quiet evidence of the rider’s passion. Though my memory is not what it once was, I can think of several examples I’ve seen on the trails. Gabe’s old bike for example. Now there’s a guy who doesn’t give a shit about fashion, but rides well, and rides hard. And how about that WTB saddle on Pete’s old Heckler? Gone now, but he kept it around a good while, because it did the job. Tom used to have the best Camelbak I’ve ever seen. It was originally red, but had been on so many rides, the sun had faded it to a washed out pink, still red in the seams. I’ve got a climbing pack like that. It fit me pefectly. The bottom got worn dragging over granite, and I patched it twice. Eventually a zipper failed, buckles aged, and it wasn’t really worth repairing, so I got a new one. But I loved that pack while it lasted.

That’s how I feel about my bike.

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Thus, if we are to understand the world, we should live somewhere between judgement and amazement — Alfredo Lopez Austin

Dan, I completely get where you are coming from with this, and I feel like I am somewhere in the middle between you, and Mitch. Mitch told me the other day that he always wants his bike to look as if it has never been used. He cleans his shoes to look as new after every ride. His bikes are immaculate.

I respect both of you for this, and at times wish I was more of one or the other. I realize stuff gets worn, and usually will not replace a part with the same part because of its appearance. But if I find a new shiny other brand version that I like better, it's on!

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Ride it until they CDFW it.

I'm like Mitch (whomever Mitch is). I sometimes drive myself crazy.

I have every part of my bikes on a maintenance schedule and if I miss it drives me crazy that I'm over some mileage point or time point and haven't done the maintenance. When my bike is too dirty I have to clean it.

Drives me crazy sometimes.

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New-for-the-sake-of-new does nothing for me. I love a well-designed object new or old, but especially old. My favorite dress shoes have been re-soled three times (sadly, they are near the end of their life), I love the nicks and scuffs on my briefcase and the way the oil from my skin has stained the handles, and to use Dan's example, I love the shiny spot on my black ano cranks, which is a testament to how many times the pedals have been turned in pleasure.

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A bicycle is a splendid thing.
~Ernest Hemingway

Mileage point? Time Point? What are these benchmarks you speak of?

It's like my garage is one giant autoclave that never turns off.

Ha… I know the felling well. For example I got 6 rides or 60 miles or 6 weeks then use a chain cleaner to completely clean my chain then of course I relubes it. After every ride I wipe it down and lube it.

But the cleaning doesn't stop with the chain. I drop the rear tire pull the cassette and completely clean it at the above interval. I also pull thr crankset remove the chain rings a nd completely clean the entire crankset.

That's just the tip of the obsession …

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I know exactly what you are talking about. It's like you are soldiers in the same fight, and share scars. It's like somting that has been not only built for a job, but has done the job well, and many times. Somthing that has proven it's worth, and gains recognisable identity, and soul of it's own. Somthing that is worth taking with you, because you beet the shit out of it and it did not break.

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"IN THIS VERY MOMENT I SLAYED GOLIATH WITH A SLING"

Maybe it's not exactly the same thing Dan, but it has been pointed out that my bikes could be better maintained. Despite these well meaning observations, I continue to relish the dirtiness of my rides because they continue to work well and make me happy. I do keep the bikes functionally maintained, just not perfect. Sort of like wearing clean underwear with day old jeans.

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"We'll ride it until they pave it."

-Big Clyde

Another great post OOD.
Kinda was thinking the same thing yesterday myself. I try to clean my bike once a week, usually after my Sunday ride. Toss it into the bike stand, grab a cold one, and start to wipe off the ride.
Yesterday I "tried" to ride Lopez canyon while exploring around LPQ and had grass stuck in the derailleur since it was so overgrown. Made me lol remembering how stupid it was to venture out there when the trail just disappears knowing snakes and ticks are all around.
Found a little stick in the brake lever that must have come from a Friday afternoon run down 5 when I clipped a branch. Wiped the mud off the bottom after riding through Lusardi creek Saturday. Pretty cool remembering the trail rides you took by the dirt on your bike.
To your point I was checking out the crank set noticing the rub marks on the arms and the worn teeth thinking they are on the replacement list soon, but not now. The pedals are almost polished from a couple of years of moving my butt forward. They still some good life left in them and it brings a bit of character to it. Kinda like a scar
Thanks for your posts

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You never know what tomorrow will bring so go ride your EBike today or walk your pooch
Fear the Yeti
"Go ride your bike today, don't let the old man in.."

Mike

...do body parts count?

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Ambition is a poor excuse for not having sense enough to be lazy. ~Milan Kundera

Well said, ODD.

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It is not enough to fight for the West; it is even more important to enjoy it. While you can. While it's still here. -Edward Abbey

I have had some recent gear related bike adventures that reminded me of this post, and I have another slightly different take that will probably be familar to most. You could call it the 'beater vs garage queen' phenomenon I suppose, but garage queen doesn't quite get the idea right.

Two things about me that set this up are 1) I'm cheap and 2) I like nice gear. That said, I once bought a cheap hardtail mountain bike through a bike-to-work commute program. Of course since I like nice gear I spent the absolute maximum I could and bought a pretty nice Gary Fisher that was way overkill for the 2 mile commute but would let me try out mountain biking. The commute gig lasted a couple years, but the mountain biking hook was set, obviously. That was 10 years ago and I suppose I've spent another $400 on that bike since then. I don't really maintain it or clean it yet it always works and is always fun to ride. This is my 'beater'.

For years in Santa Cruz I never felt like I needed a full suspension. Redwood duff and the occasional root garden are pretty much all you deal with. Then I moved and started riding La Costa and in about 3 weeks started shopping. For a used yet high end bike, of course. Certainly can't afford new and I'm not about to settle for 'entry level new' when I could get 'high end used' for the same money. Ended up buying kevmortensen's Chumba on here. I love the bike, it rode great and fit my riding style perfectly, but...

The drivetrain was worn out and I needed a shorter stem. No problem, fixed that up. Bound be some issues since it's used, right? Got some more rides in then broke the derailleur hangar. That's ok, it's 'designed' to break, better than a broken frame! Got some third party ones, kept a spare in the backpack. Then I went on a Noble ride and bad luck.. rear derailleur pulley seized, breaking the hangar again and yanking the whole thing into the rear wheel. Oh but I had a spare in my backpack and replaced it. Did same thing 100 yds later. (That's actually when I realized it was the pulley, in my defense.) So.. out of hangars but I don't have a spare RD anyway. Lets ride Noble without a chain! Don't ever do that, btw. It sucks. Some of you may remember that day, at least Stu kept me company although he managed to haul ass without a chain. So I bought a brand new RD and tuned everything up, good to go! Then my frame broke at the seat stay on a book club ride. Starting to get a little discouraged at this point, but at least I had the right friends and had the frame repaired. AND THEN (seriously, I'm not trying to stretch this out) a pivot bolt broke and stuck out enough to catch the inner chain ring, on the second ride since putting it back together. At that point I was fed up, enough is enough and I pouted and wallowed and all that fun stuff. Of course the beater was always there for me, always neglected, always working.

After a couple months my friend Thunder took the frame piece home, spent 8 minutes pulling the broken bolt piece out and told me to just order a new bolt already. Got it back together and rode the bike at La Costa yesterday and had a blast, but... brakes were all out of whack. And the beat goes on.

Throughout this whole ordeal I had a strange sense of deja vu, even though these are the only two mountain bikes I've ever owned. I finally figured it out, I used to race autocross and had a pretty darn fast little Nissan that I also bought used and had an endless series of 'tuning' and or 'fixing' issues with it. That time I didn't really have a beater race car, but was fortunate enough to always have a co-drive spot in something or other. I used to marvel at how much smoother and faster and easier I could drive other people's cars. Not having to think about what tire pressures I was running or what the shock tune was or whether that alignment guy actually did what I asked him to meant I could just drive. But I always wanted to go back to my car if possible, even if it meant a day of frustration instead of fun driving.

So that's my take on mechanical wabi-sabi. I always seem to have the standby beater that is reliable and unappreciated, and the fragile performance machine that is usually just a giant pain in my ass but every once in awhile comes together for the perfect ride.