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Fixed gear
A movement that’s nearly a prayer; continuous and fluid, it triggers a respiration typical of meditation. A sort of mantra that springs naturally, without any sound coming out. You float on the ground in a mental state that’s at the same time detached from reality and yet absolutely in contact with reality.
Distraction is simply not allowed, without any laws prohibiting it but simply the reality of facts; You must not hurt, and you must not hurt yourself, you have to do what you have to, move yourself to get from A to B, and you know it at every fraction of a second. The penalty is immediate; evitable if you do what you must, unforgiving if you don’t endorse this simple truth.
Travel lightly, on a vehicle that weights less than 10kg, at a price in energy standards absolutely ridiculous with respect to other means of transportation giving the same result.
Never stop being amazed at how your surrounding environment changes, what you thought you knew by heart. Not know, it’s not the same, roughness and slopes, specially the downhills; before you were whistling with your pedals stopped now you hold with unknown muscles the advancing of the man/bike, have a different aspect and they become familiar, real, everyone with it’s own characteristics, as if they were human.
Your vehicle is absurdly crude. A wire of steel, well angulated, looking at it from a distance; from up high it is nearly invisible, on the side a child’s drawing bearing more attention to the straight lines and the miraculous curve of the wheels.
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