Last Sunday I was pleased to do a short workshop on bike commuting at the Abundance Cooperative Market annual meeting. I think I covered most of the essentials, and since it was a chilly, rainy day; and since the onset of winter is on people’s minds, the discussion swerved toward coping with the elements. I touted my highly visible rain jacket (which doubles as a snow jacket) and talked about Gore-Tex and ventilation. But would you believe I forgot to say anything about fenders?
Not that they were absent totally from the discussion. I did have my pseudo-hybridized Kona on display front and center, and it should have been obvious that this beauty of a commuter machine is equipped with full fenders. Notice I didn’t say “pair.” That’s because I’ve got a mismatched fender duo scrounged from other bikes: a mountain bike style clip-on in the front, and a traditional plastic job with steel stays in the rear. They aren’t beautiful like the bike, but they work great.
Then this past Wednesday, I went on the Cruiser Ride with what turned out to be an unusually small group, only a half dozen of the hardcore. (These weekly rides have been drawing two or three dozen riders, but now the fall weather and lower-light conditions may be taking a toll.) We spent the first hour of the ride dodging raindrops and the occasional puddle left by a day of intermittent showers. Just as we were getting to the corner of Main and Clinton downtown the rain got pretty heavy, so with the collective instinct of a flock of migratory birds, we zipped and swooped under the overhang of the old McCurdy’s building on Main St., right across from the old Sibley’s. It worked out fine: a nice half-hour break, mostly spent talking politics (insert here your favorite Palin story) while (at least for me) contemplating the sad lack of street life.
So what has this got to do with fenders? Well, I noticed that I was the only rider that night who had them. And I wondered if our riding group had sought shelter at least in part because we – on average – weren’t properly equipped. I mused about how different things are in Portland (OR) and Seattle, or many northern European communities, where a large proportion of bikes have fenders – and not necessarily modern high-tech ones, but old-fashioned metal fenders, not lightweight or rust-proof but, as if in compensation, practically immortal. I think that the success of bike commuting and other routine bike usage in places like these is related to the widespread use of practical accessories, with full fenders at the top of the list.
Okay, fenders ain’t sexy. But who cares, or should care? Aren’t riding comfort and preparedness for the weather more important considerations? American riders overall have been seduced by the stripped-down charms of naked rubber – tires, that is. They’ve been metaphorically drafting the road racers, in pursuit of bike weight reductions measured in milligrams, as well as maximum efficiencies in reducing drag. This has led our bike culture to reject fenders, though the new types tip the scales at less than a pound a pair and have surface areas and shapes that only minutely increase drag. To lose an ounce here or there, we’ve condemned ourselves to wearing that charming mud-stripe up the backside and that delightful rain-in-the-face recycled off the pavement. And even worse, by gearhead values, we’ve left our brakes and derailleurs fully exposed to blasts of water, grit and debris.
As a bike culture, we’ve made a serious error in judgment. So I say, let’s write another chapter in The Revenge of the Nerds and press our fenders close to our hearts. (Actually, they work better when attached near the wheels. This is my tech tip for the day.) Here at RocBike we declare we “have nothing to lose but our chains.” Well, we’ve also got mudguards to gain, and whole new worlds of inclement weather not merely to endure but in which to seek pure delight. (Did I say fenders ain’t sexy? Then why I am getting so worked up?)
