Perfect Just the Way You Are

In describing my experience in a paceline training ride earlier, I had written that my Rivendell was not the right bike for that ride. Subsequently, I've received some suggestions for how to make it faster - including getting narrower tires, installing "brifters," removing the saddlebag, rack and fenders, and stripping off the dynamo lighting. While I appreciate the advice and agree that all of that may indeed improve my paceline performance, I do not plan to make any changes to this bicycle. Right now, I have a bicycle that is perfect for me as a touring bike. Why turn something that's perfect for one activity into something that's okay but not ideal for another?

In stating that my Rivendell was not the right bike for a racing team-sponsored paceline ride, I was by no means criticising it or expressing unhappiness with it. I was merely reiterating a simple fact: Touring bikes are not racing bikes.

A touring bicycle is about exploration and about experiencing one's surroundings. You cannot do that when cycling 6" behind someone's rear wheel at 20mph.

A touring bike is about the long haul and about going at one's own pace.  I use the computer as a handlebar-mounted clock and odometer more than I use it as a speedometer - because "how far" is a more interesting question for this bike than "how fast."

A touring bike is about the freedom of going anywhere, without having to cultivate the handling skills of a pro racer. Comfortable geometry and stable handling enable novice and experienced cyclists alike to ride. My bicycle is easy, and its wide, cushy tires make me immune to most of the fears that plague cyclists on modern roadbikes: potholes, rain, sand, uneven terrain - bring them on. I can even wear nice clothing while I'm at it, because the fenders will protect me from road grime. And with my bright, dynamo-generated lights I can cycle through the night and not worry about batteries.

A touring bike is a home away from home. In my saddlebag, on the day this picture was taken I carried: a large DSLR camera, a sweater, a hat, an apple, a notebook, a fountain pen, a bar of chocolate, a saddle cover, gloves, sunscreen, a lock and a mini pump. And that's nothing compared to what I could have brought had I also attached my handlebar bag. Setting off on a racing bike limits you to a training ride and nothing more. On a touring bike a ride can start out as one thing and morph into another. Groceries can be involved, or a spontaneous visit to a friend's house. Who knows!

Riding a touring bike is an organic experience. My Rivendell's steel, brass, canvas, leather, twine, shellac and rubber fit harmoniously with its riding style and with my enjoyment of exploring nature. It is not about competing with nature with ever-more-efficient materials and aerodynamic postures, but about simply existing.

In turning this bicycle into a performance-oriented bike, I would essentially be giving up the very things that make it special. And that would be a shame.

Sure, we may be curious about pacelines and racing.

But not at the expense of smelling the flowers. Some bicycles are perfect just the way they are.