Gear, Part 1

So there I was having a certain in-office surgical procedure, and the doctor starts talking bikes, I suppose to take my mind off the snip-snipping that was going on. (This is a true story.) He asked me if I bike. Yes, I said (wishing he would concentrate on his work). So then he starts talking about gear ratios and how far the bike travels with each pedal revolution with each gear ratio. And I felt inadequate. I couldn't talk the bike talk. I just liked to ride the things and tinker with them.

And so forgive me dear reader if you find my musings on bike gear less than fully informed. I don't know how to calculate gear ratios. I'm not even completely sure how many teeth my sprockets have. (How many sprockets my teeth have?) I'm not even completely sure how many gears my freewheel has. (I do know the difference between a freewheel and a cassette, but not without some research.) I have only just recently learned the difference between 27", 700c, 650b, and 26" wheels, and I now know that 32mm tires are more or less equivalent to 27 x 1 1/4" tires.

But it seems to me that some things are worth knowing (wheel size and tire width, for example, because I need to replace tires periodically), while other things are not worth knowing. What do I care what the gear ratio is? Is that even the correct term? I know that I like to ride on the largest chainwheel and the third largest freewheel gear. On modest slopes I shift to the middle chainwheel and fourth largest freewheel gear. On steeper slopes, I move to the third freewheel gear. Steep downhills: the hardest combination. Steep uphills: the easiest combination. And those are the gears I use mostly. I guess I only need a five-speed. Maybe I only need a one-speed. As far as I can tell, that would make me supremely hip.

But do I care what the actual numbers are? I don't.

And, of course, those who know about gear ratios also are careful to wear yellow biking jerseys and clip-in pedals, while I have been going the other direction. I just replaced my clip-in pedals (which caused several painful and/or embarrassing crashes and spills) with plain old "rat-trap" style pedals, which I have been using without toe clips (to try to solve knee pain), and I have been wearing baggy shorts and t-shirts. Soft-soled tennis shoes, too. I rode 50 miles in this set-up on Saturday, and had a lovely time. Didn't tip over once, never felt that I wasn't transferring power efficiently to the pedals, didn't feel the least bit un-aerodynamic.

So the question is, what's point of biking, and all that gear, and those beautiful Nitto stems and handlebars? Is it recreation? Is it exercise? Is it art? I don't know the answer, quite, because I've been obsessing about my bikes as much as the next guy. I don't think it's just the equipment (even the baggy retro equipment that I have been favoring.) I really do like riding the things. I commute on one every day, I take long weekend rides.

If it's the exercise, I can get plenty of exercise by taking two-hour, six-mile walks. No gear to worry about there. Except shoes. And backpack. And raincoat. And hat. (Actually, being bald, I own a lot of hats.) And sunglasses. (I own a lot of those, too.) I gave my wife a hydration pack for her birthday a few years ago, like the ones they used on Dune under their desert robes. She looked at me like I was insane. I can't quite bring myself to use it, and she certainly doesn't use it, so it sits in a rubber, protruding-tube heap in the closet.

I have a basket on the back of my bike. (Not the pair of baskets that hang down, but a single basket--a metal shopping basket, actually--strapped to my rear rack.) It's fantastically handy, but supremely stupid looking. So I ride with it on for a while, and then take it off because it looks too dorky. But then I miss it, so I put it back on. And really, who cares whether I have a basket on my bike?

Maybe if I wear a yellow jersey no one will notice.