Fixed Gears
Sometimes, at stop lights, I see them: cool bike hipsters, wearing tight pants with a tiny U lock in the back pocket, funny little flat shoes, and expensive water proof messenger bags, with cocky caps perched upon their heads. My emotions alternate between skepticism (who do they think they are?) and envy (oh, I would love a bike like that!) At red lights they stand on top of their bikes, balanced with what seems to be super human balance, perfectly still. I've become very good at biking, and can pedal all the way from Week's Footbridge to Anderson Bridge without using the handlebars, and yet I am unable to balance at a stop light. How do they do it? And why can't I?
Doug owns several fixed gear bikes, and he left his white Miele at the boathouse for me to try and Jonathan, the fixed gear aficionado, promised to teach me how to ride it. "Basically, it's like riding a regular bike, except that when you stop peddling the bike stops. And you have to start with one foot in the pedal cage and then, when you start moving, slip your other foot into the cage. It's easy." We started by taking the bike to the top of the wheelchair ramp and rolling it down the hill. "Now just put your other foot in the cage!" he yelled at me, while the left pedal kicked me in the back of the left calf and the bike veered off the ramp and into the dirt.
On the second try I manage to secure both feet to the pedals, and in a moment of elation I was riding a fixed gear bike! I pump my legs and feel the sensation of power computing to speed, pedals turning the back wheel, until I am going fast enough to stand up to feel the wind fly through my hair while I coast down the path. Immediately, this locks up the back wheel and sends me sprawling. Unfortunately, I remain connected to the pedals and frustration, pain, and humiliation ensue. I'm not as cute as Kelly Ripa and no one cares that I'm learning to ride a bike.
(I have found that people along the Charles are not particularly helpful when it comes to falling. Many times I have tripped and fallen on runs, only to pick my bleeding self off the ground, hoping for pity but finding myself the recipient of disdainful glares. I worry about all these falls as I get older. At what point am I the subject of the morning prayers: "what happened to Carrie?" "Oh, she had a fall.")
With practice, I became quite proficient at riding the fixed gear bike. Occasionally, I would forget myself and attempt to coast, but the jolt from the rear wheel quickly reminded me to continue pedaling. As Jonathan promised, the control of the fixed gear allowed me to conquer the feats of balance and I could very nearly (at least for a moment) stand at the stop lights!
But then, one evening on my ordinary commute home, tragedy struck. As I biked along beside Memorial Drive, the hem of my sweat pant caught into my solitary gear. All the mastery that I had exhibited atop my bike vanished and I began to panic!
How do I stop? I couldn't remember! How do I get my feet out of the pedal cage, when my pant was stuck in the gear? I don't know! How do I stand when I get my feet free when my pants are being pulled off my legs? I can't even formulate these thoughts!
I continued to panic, and pedal, and my pants continued to wrap around the gear and pull free from my legs. Finally I freed my feet from the pedals (translation: fell off the bike), and then stood there straddling the bike, most of my entire lower half in view of the headlights of the Cambridge traffic. I attempted to balance on my left leg, pick up the bike so that the tire could spin, pedal my right leg backwards to free the pants, and finally just ripped off the bottom six inches of my pants.
I'm not sure about the fashion caps, but at least the bicycle hipster tight pants make sense. Now to get a pair of the funny little flat shoes too.
Doug owns several fixed gear bikes, and he left his white Miele at the boathouse for me to try and Jonathan, the fixed gear aficionado, promised to teach me how to ride it. "Basically, it's like riding a regular bike, except that when you stop peddling the bike stops. And you have to start with one foot in the pedal cage and then, when you start moving, slip your other foot into the cage. It's easy." We started by taking the bike to the top of the wheelchair ramp and rolling it down the hill. "Now just put your other foot in the cage!" he yelled at me, while the left pedal kicked me in the back of the left calf and the bike veered off the ramp and into the dirt.
On the second try I manage to secure both feet to the pedals, and in a moment of elation I was riding a fixed gear bike! I pump my legs and feel the sensation of power computing to speed, pedals turning the back wheel, until I am going fast enough to stand up to feel the wind fly through my hair while I coast down the path. Immediately, this locks up the back wheel and sends me sprawling. Unfortunately, I remain connected to the pedals and frustration, pain, and humiliation ensue. I'm not as cute as Kelly Ripa and no one cares that I'm learning to ride a bike.
(I have found that people along the Charles are not particularly helpful when it comes to falling. Many times I have tripped and fallen on runs, only to pick my bleeding self off the ground, hoping for pity but finding myself the recipient of disdainful glares. I worry about all these falls as I get older. At what point am I the subject of the morning prayers: "what happened to Carrie?" "Oh, she had a fall.")
With practice, I became quite proficient at riding the fixed gear bike. Occasionally, I would forget myself and attempt to coast, but the jolt from the rear wheel quickly reminded me to continue pedaling. As Jonathan promised, the control of the fixed gear allowed me to conquer the feats of balance and I could very nearly (at least for a moment) stand at the stop lights!
But then, one evening on my ordinary commute home, tragedy struck. As I biked along beside Memorial Drive, the hem of my sweat pant caught into my solitary gear. All the mastery that I had exhibited atop my bike vanished and I began to panic!
How do I stop? I couldn't remember! How do I get my feet out of the pedal cage, when my pant was stuck in the gear? I don't know! How do I stand when I get my feet free when my pants are being pulled off my legs? I can't even formulate these thoughts!
I continued to panic, and pedal, and my pants continued to wrap around the gear and pull free from my legs. Finally I freed my feet from the pedals (translation: fell off the bike), and then stood there straddling the bike, most of my entire lower half in view of the headlights of the Cambridge traffic. I attempted to balance on my left leg, pick up the bike so that the tire could spin, pedal my right leg backwards to free the pants, and finally just ripped off the bottom six inches of my pants.
I'm not sure about the fashion caps, but at least the bicycle hipster tight pants make sense. Now to get a pair of the funny little flat shoes too.
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