Riding a Broken Bike

It constantly amazes me that people choose to ride from place to place on a malfunctioning bike.  Stranger still, they seem to think that getting a new paint job, or perhaps attaching a shiny new horn, will make the ride smoother.  True, people they pass do notice how the light plays over the arresting outer coat, and the noise from the horn does turn heads, but an observer's focus only pauses on these things for a moment.  If I could transcribe the internal monologue of these voyeurs, it would probably be something like this:

"Wow, nice paint job, and the horn sounds sweet...I wonder if he/she knows their bike is broken?" 

It makes me wonder if I need to check out my ride.  Am I rolling on flats?  Has the chain come off while I'm hard at work putting on a cushy new seat that will keep my gluteus maximus comfortably covered?  I guess that when it comes right down to it, the only thing that keeps me from joining the ranks of these finely festooned, yet faultily maintained travelers is the company I keep. 

Don't take me wrong.  I am most certain that there have been more than a few times that passers-by have checked out my travels with a wry grin and a mental note to construct a quaint story about the biker they saw awkwardly pushing a rickety two-wheeler.  I even bet their friends got a kick out of it, and rightly so.  I'm even more certain that while on these painfully slow and tiring escapades, I had companions along for the ride atop equally jacked-up steeds, chatting with me about how dashing we must look.  Insert a "hindsight is 20/20" cringe here...

I guess I'm just fortunate that, for whatever reasons, I have been able to hear the advice of those riding nicely maintained machines.  An interesting note about these wily sojourners – their bikes are never flashy.  Always well constructed, sturdy, and balanced, but never gaudy.   They’re willing to help you out, as well.  Not in the “Hey buddy, here’s what you’re doing wrong” sort of way, but mostly in the “Are you interested in a smoother trip?”, noninvasive way.  It seems to help that they constantly are referring to the owner’s manual.  Duh!

That’s it.  I guess I shouldn’t waste time getting mad at broken bike jockeys.  It’s difficult not to at times, especially when you see that they’re leading a caravan of new-to-the-road cyclists and they seem to be oblivious to how close they’re riding to the edge of a cliff…but I digress.  Sooner or later they’ll figure out the problem, or their legs are going to give out.  I hope it’s the former, rather than the latter.  Time will tell.