Ridin’ the Train

Get your wrenches ready – to throw at people

At a point in time when there was great poverty and starvation, calamity and horror, the Draisienne was invented. Somehow, the folks in the United States misspelled this so badly it wasn’t even relate-able. It didn’t have pedals. It was around 1812. (Bicycling Science, MIT Press, 18)

Since that time there have been folks like me fixing the offspring of the Draisienne, what has become today’s bicycle. In Europe this is still a respected trade as cycling is very much a part of daily life and critical to getting around. Here in the United States, cycling is primarily a recreational diversion. Although, folks will use them to get around the cities, you won’t see so many of them in use on the country-side. Of course as you drive along the country road you’ll see a few of these machines and their owners dead in the ditches on the shoulder as they’re continually targeted by terrible humans driving automobiles. Some call this “roadkill” when it’s a deer.

So the machine abounds. The bicycle is used worldwide for getting from place to place quicker than walking. It’s a workhorse. To fuel it you need to eat potatoes. But like all machines they break down and cause heartache. This is where we, the mechanics of bicycles, come in. We save the day. We’ve been charged with the safe riding of all cyclists, except those who choose to buy their velo from a department store.

In the US more and more folks are riding bikes as entertainment and means of fitness. It means I’ll always have work. But as long as I work on these machines I will never have a retirement plan, a pension, insurance, or really anything other than a bike and place to lay my head.

“Well you chose that career!” People say. Their rationale is that it’s a high-schoolers job. Have you seen what happens when a high-schooler repairs a bike? Have you seen one of these species fix anything after 2006? I’m having problems with my high-school employees sweeping and staying awake; their brains generally resemble soft oats and their ability to express their thoughts is about as lackluster as the wind tipping an over-flowing garbage can. I do what I do because I’m exceptional at it. I am sought out. Good mechanics fix actual problems. When I go away and pursue a “real job” your bike stops functioning the way it should.

If your bike stops working because your shop’s high-school mechanics can’t fix it you’ll go to the next shop and find other high-school mechanics. You’ll pay real money and come away with more problems. You’ll get over it and repeat the process. And then you’ll mutter, “My old mechanic was an asshole but he sure could fix a bike.” Then you’ll move onto other sports, like curling or something equally inert.