You know what makes ninjas so cool? They move silently up drainpipes, across rooftops, always in the shadows, before they do whatever ninja job they have planned. You think the ninja’s main weapon is a throwing star or a katana, but it’s not; it’s silence.
Now fair play, I’m not often on my way to do an assassination when I’m on my bike, but my joy at moving through space at speed is compounded if I’m also doing it silently. My road bike is a wraith, whispering over the asphalt. I am a ninja wraith in a leotard, and I love it.
My fellow cyclists seem not to value this quality of quietness. Their chains chirp like so many crickets. They harbor multiple straps, flip-flapping against their bicycles’ frames. Why do they need so much stuff strapped to their bicycles?
Sound is frictive.
If you are hearing your bicycle, you are slowing down. This seems a simple enough concept. Any surface, abrading another surface, causes friction. Your body (and bike) moving through space, which is not like space, devoid of matter, but rather filled with gas and airborne particulates, is also making friction. Maybe you hear the flap of a loose bit of jersey, or maybe just the shooing of the window through your helmet vents. It all costs.
And maybe I’m a little too tightly wound, but these things are also psychologically frictive for me. A rubbing brake. A wheedling chain. A tire tool bouncing in a newly empty saddle bag. It’s awfully difficult for me to sit on my saddle and pedal my bike with all that friction in the air. I’ve never quit a ride out of irritation. I’m not so, so sensitive, but if your s*&t is loud, I am noticing. It is slowing me down.
Of course, there are plenty of places in my life that I’ve assimilated loud, abrasive sounds. Sometimes I even seek them out. But the bike is not one of those places. The bike is the escape from all that sensory input, and a slipping derailleur is like that family that just pitched their camp next to you at the beach and then turned on their radio.
I don’t even know what song is playing, but I know I hate it.
Mid ride on Saturday- I went to visit President Marty Van B – he’s resting peacefully- a tick arose on the return flight. I tried the usual tweaks to no avail. Fortunately, the headwinds and my general lack of fitness distracted. But this post is a reminder to me to silence that so when my legs or mind isn’t screaming at me, I can Depeche Mode that ride..
https://youtu.be/aGSKrC7dGcY?si=2LWciqr0ouMUiWVX
I’m not a big fan of the loud free hub trend. The stealthier the better!
The out of sync squeak of a rubbing break, odd creak of a bottom bracket about to give up the ghost, clickity clack of a just out of alignment derailleur…. these a things which can turn rides into hour long trailside repair sessions. But I do love the sound of a Chris king hub.
Once I heard a bizarre creaking noise. I pulled over and checked every moving part. Nothing. It only creaked when I pedaled. Rode a little. Checked a lot. Over and over and over. Drove me nuts. Literally for days this daze continued. Finally! Viola! It was my saddle! Ugh