Self-sustaining simplicity

I am totally intoxicated by minimalist machines. At first it was motorcycles, preferably old, and now single speed bicycles, preferably fixed gear. Fixed gear meaning there is a single gear-ratio with the pedals directly connected to the rear wheel. No shifting and no coasting. If the bike is moving your feet are moving. In their purest form fixed gear bikes have no brakes, because pedaling in reverse adds resistance and slows the bike. When my fascination with stripped down motorcycles began people could understand it as “a guy thing” or me fulfilling personal version of “everyone needs a hobby.”

But now with fixed-gear bikes, which are arguably more difficult to ride and produce more sweat when traveling from A to B, the typical vehicular model of A to B with ease has been violated. This prompts friends and family to ask with more insistence why I do this. Why would I seek out vehicles lacking features designed for efficiency and even safety.

Acknowledging that I spend an unhealthy amount of time staring at these machines, I should devote some time to understanding why.
The answer is not as simple as me being a thrill seeker, or speed freak – I am fully aware that my livelihood is derived from the combination of my head and my extremities so I protect them accordingly.
I hope the answer is more complex than a cat like reflex to stare at shiny objects…

I believe that answer is that these machines are so clearly understandable. When the majority of my work and life is interconnected and technologically enabled, it is refreshing to interact with an object that is totally self contained and self sufficient in its simplicity. My bike will never magically work after a restart, forcing me to accept that everything is now ok though nothing has changed. A bike will work forever with virtually no involvement from me. There is an implied amount of nurturing that our technology requires of us. Charged batteries, software updates, apps downloaded. I covet these machines not because they are “retro” or “nostalgic” but because they are mechanical and therefore self explanatory. Everything sits right there on the surface. Understanding each function is as simple as tracing your finger from pedal to crank to chain. Convergeance comes at the cost of understanding – features at the cost of clarity.

But in all things balance is key – I do miss my fenders in the rain…

1 Comment

  1. I do think there’s something to be said for the stark honesty of materials, construction, and function that simple machines like fixies embody. Although in some respects the “black box” is magical, it’s also in many ways alienating and prevents us from appreciating process. At what point though does understanding process become irrelevant, and understanding the broad conceptual underpinnings of a device become more practical?

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