Letting It Slide

I’m generally pretty anal about keeping my bike tuned-up and running just so. Usually, at the first squeak or creak, I get my rig up on the stand and try to figure out where the noise is coming from and how to make it go away.

Because bicycles are about the only things I know how to fix, I’m fairly eager to investigate what’s going wrong and to apply my limited mechanical skills to making it better. I’ll even stop by the side of the trail or road to investigate a strange sound or weird feeling. My tolerance for a less-than-perfectly-smooth-and-quiet is pretty low; I’m always amazed when someone passes me with a loudly squeaking chain or a clattering bottom bracket. I’d go nuts if I had to put up with that for just a couple blocks let alone my daily commute.

This week, though, I’m surprising myself with my willingness to accept a bike in need of service. The rain and snow of recent weeks has done their job on my drive train and I’m currently getting a pronounced “click” every revolution of my cranks when I’m mashing the pedals while standing. I know what causes this, I think; in the past, I’ve been able to make the sound go away by taking off and putting back on the cranks, removing and re-lubing the bottom bracket, and repacking the bearings in the pedals.

Also, my brake pads needs replacing and it’s about time to fix a fraying derailler cable.

But I’ve decided I’m going to live with these imperfections at least until school’s out next week. At this point, they’re only annoying, not dangerous. My cranks won’t fall off—even if the noise they’re making makes me want to tear them apart.

I’m finding it interesting to be a bit of what I’m might usually consider a slob; I’m taking it as an exercise in acceptance, although it might better be understood as one of laziness.