It was sitting in a heap, in the back shop, leaning against the wall beneath old wheels, cranksets and archaic tools and amongst other discarded bikes that would have cost too much money to fix. A few weeks later it would've been wheeled out to the dumpster and left to be scavenged or turned into a part of the landfill. I had been looking for a steel frame ever since reading an article about Poppi J. Cool (that can be found here) and I stumbled upon my old decrepit red junker.
Eventually, I decided it was time to take it home. I cut off all of the rusty junk parts and tossed the rotten wheels, then I rolled it out to the bike rack in the parking lot. Honestly, I was a little bit disappointed when it got a few laughs from the staff. Many people see an old steel frame bike as a lost cause that deserves to be melted down and turned into a bridge girder or something, but something about reviving something from the past and making it run like new held a certain appeal to me.
The first thing I did after getting it home was to strip every single part off of the frame. I wanted to start from scratch. My living room was littered in dusty parts, screws and bike grease. I was going to take the bike from a rickety old mountain bike to a dirt-dropped schralpin touring rig. It didnt take long before it was starting to look less like a garbage 80's mountain bike and more like a racked-out dirt tourer.
After a few weeks of work the bike was finally ready. After the first time I had my hands in the drops over the dirt single-track I was hooked. This bike, though heavy, out of date and somewhat cobbled together, was one of the funnest things I'd ridden. The steel frame felt responsive and whippy. It rides solid beneath me, but has a certain softness that comes from the old steel. It is undoubtably a fun bike, and in the end that is what it all comes down to.
I am of the opinion that every bike mechanic or bike nerd should aspire to refit an old beauty like mine. It is a challenging project. There are days poking through bike kitchen parts bins looking for the best derailleurs, stems, brakes and the weirdest of parts. It is a labour of love that allows you to put your soul into the bike and make it exactly the way you want it. A custom bike is an extension of yourself. Having it run wonderfully and smoothly is the best way to show a mechanic's skill and attention to detail. The bike is also always a work in progress. As things wear out, they are replaced. It is a project in constant flux, much like a person. We don't stay the same over the years so why should our bikes?
To fix a thing is to make it beautiful. It gives the thing new life and shows your craft and skill. Though my bike is nowhere near perfect, I think it shows my current skill level and is an obvious reminder of where I've been and where I need to go. Like me, my bike is in flux.
In the bike shop, it is easy to be lured in by the shiny components, new frames and the newest high-tech gear. Don't get me wrong, I am a fan of the newest stuff as much as the next person, but I've recently discovered the allure of the old. Some may think I'm a bit strange, some may laugh at the fact that I'm riding an old steel mountain bike with road bike bars, some may disagree with the strangeness of riding something like this, but isn't that what riding bikes is all about?
Bike nerds are a strange bunch. We willingly look like idiots in strange hats, colourful socks and weird shoes; we drink strange beers, get stoked about old frames, gear ratios and sticker slapping bikes. The bike community is a weird one. The fact that I've decided to ride a steel frame mountain bike with drop bars is just another example of the weirdness of the bike world.
Yes we can be all taken up by the shiny glow of the newest parts. An immaculate frame is so much prettier than a 20 year old dusty frame that has been left in someone's shed. At the end of it all it doesnt matter what bike you're riding, as long as you are doing it.
Here's to the trail.