The praises of the fixed-gear bicycle have been sung repeatedly on various Web sites, and so I am pleased to report that not long ago I took my First Real Ride on my Friday — uh, sorry, on a Friday I took my First Real Ride on my Fixie in fifteen years, having finally replaced the brake-lever hoods which had disintegrated into sticky brown goo. I live at the top of a substantial hill, so I chose a trip to meet my wife at her workplace to run an errand together, and we would return with the car. The ride succeeded despite several forgetful moments when I tried to adjust my position on the saddle and found myself elevated, etc.
That experience moved me to compose the following lines.
I’ve Gotta Get Back to Fixie
(with thanks to Tom Revay, who suggested revisions, and apologies to another Tom)
Oh I’ve gotta get back to fixie,
Let me ride my dear ol’ fixie,
That’s the only li’l ol’ bike for li’l ol’ me.
Ol’ bike rides are not forgotten,
Climbing hills was really rotten,
With everybody waiting for me.
(I was never there on time.)
I’ll go ride my fixie Raleigh
Cause freewheels are just folly,
And three-speed hubs are surely on the wane.
I really am a’itchin’
To go home and start enrichin’
My life with one-inch pitchin’ pain.
Oh, road rash, how I love ya, how I love ya,
My dear old road rash.
I wanna get rid of the old derailleur
And try to ride just like Major Taylor
[(Aside) He was a hero, I’m a failure,
But what the hell, I tried!]
Yes, for steep terrain the fixed gear is my nominee.
Must I explain the brace that I wear on my knee?
I gotta get on my fixie
I wanna be a fixie pixie
And spin down hills ’til it’s comin’ outta my ears
I wanna talk with shaved-leg gentlemen
And put my black tights on again,
I ain’t seen one good track stand in years.
The land of the tight lockring,
Where cassette cogs are for mocking,
Is callin’ me to come and evermore roam.
I wanna go back to the bike-land,
That “car back” and pedal strike land,
Be it ever so strenuous,
There’s no place like home.
And — one night at a Massbike Board meeting I sat next to fellow Board member Tom Revay, who reminded me that there is a song by another Tom– you can hear it here, with another very similar set of lyrics that Revay sings during his bike tours of Civil War battlefields, when he doesn’t want to use material quite as annoying as Marching Through Georgia.
Tom Revay and I have floated the idea that we might tour the battlefields together in an effort to determine which of us can be the more annoying.
And if you want to know something about the Tom who wrote the song with the other lyrics, then read this.
