Further to a recent post, one or two of you took issue with the fact that I had zip-tied a water bottle cage to this bicycle:
Hey, you may find it unsightly, but at least it’s not as bad as what this guy did:

[Via here.]
I don’t know who he is, but he clearly has no respect for fine hand-crafted bicycles:

As for the bike I’m riding, one reader even said I should contact Richard Sachs himself and ask him to install bottle bosses for me, though as I noted, someone of his stature (my elder son has even referred to him as the Karl Farbman of Bicycles) has far more important stuff to work on than that. In fact, a quick look at his social media reveals just how busy he is:

For chrissakes, leave the guy alone and let him focus.
Plus, in between he’s even managed to publish two new installments in his series of books, which I look forward to reading:

I’ve already read and enjoyed the first one, which he was kind enough to send me awhile back:

He sent it after I reached out to tell him I was riding one of his bikes, which was a pleasant surprise, since I expected a response more along the lines of, “Aren’t you that bike blog guy? Please do not let anyone see you riding one of my bikes.” Here’s a page I just opened up to at random:

That one hits close to home:

[Industry Standard Gravelling Appliance]
I certainly don’t mind a utilitarian, appliance-like bike, nor would I ever suggest you need a “beautiful” bicycle in order to properly appreciate cycling. A purposeful, businesslike bike has its own charm. Furthermore, if anything, most of us found our love of riding astride bicycles that many might consider appliance-like or utilitarian, if not downright ugly, and many of us continue to ride and enjoy ugly bikes today, whether by necessity or by choice. For example, many years ago I used to ride a bonded aluminum Trek, and I remembered it so fondly I went so far as to acquire its doppelgänger from Classic Cycle:

Is a ride on a bonded aluminum Trek as profoundly enjoyable as a ride on a Richard Sachs? Absolutely. Would I choose a bonded aluminum Trek over a Richard Sachs? Absolutely not. That would be stupid. But that’s not the point, because I happen to have both so I don’t have to make that choice–nor, frankly, should I be forced to make that choice. After all, a personage of my standing in the cycling community must ride a bike befitting of his stature, and anything less would be unbecoming. Celebrities, royalty, bike bloggers…people expect us to maintain certain standards, and whilst those standards may be difficult to uphold, it simply wouldn’t be fair of us to let the rest of you down, now would it?
At this point, you may be wondering how I reconcile these so-called “lofty standards” of mine with something like this:

Or, for that matter, this:

To that I say unto you, it is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I dine with publicans and sinners so you don’t have to. You’re welcome.
Never mind that once-healthy bikes seem to get sicker and sicker the more time they spend with me, aesthetically speaking:

To wit:

Though I’d argue that the bike hasn’t become ugly; rather, it has acquired “beausage,” which is a portmanteau of the words “beauty” and “sausage.” And of course the degree of beausage a bicycle acquires is in direct proportion to the extent to which is is loved. This is because the more you use it, the more beautifully sausaged it gets.
For a long time, Andy White of Fyxomatosis has espoused this credo:

That always used to bother me. If anything, I always thought life is too short not to ride shit bikes. What are you supposed to do when you’re young and of limited knowledge, experience, and means? Sit on your ass until you can afford your dream bike? Of course not! You get your hands on any bike you can and get out there! There are no shitty bikes, there are only shitty people. And shitty weather:

I still don’t think life is too short to ride shit bikes, but I do think it’s too short to refrain from riding fancy bikes in shit weather:

Of course a fancy rain jacket helps. Thanks, Pearl Izumi!

As for the disappearance of bicycle components that are functionally and aesthetically suited to these types of bicycles, that’s why Rivendell is increasingly producing their own:

For years I took this stuff for granted:

Now it’s disappearing–and quickly:

Life really is too short, isn’t it?
