On the Ephemeral Nature of Things

 A month or two ago, while riding the 1952 Raleigh home from work, the rear fender rattled loose from its support stays.  As you can see from the photo, I have it held in place now by these knobby, reusable zip tie things.  (My actual zip ties were harder to get to at the time I was fixing it.)  So it looks like a Raleigh fender is good for about 73 years.  I guess that's not too bad in terms of a consumer product.

The bicycle itself continues to work great, but the fender incident caused me to reflect on some of my odder behaviors.  I have a tendency to try to look for, if not the best, at least pretty good, and robust things.  My rationale is that by buying the best of whatever it is, I can make it last a good long time, preventing the need to buy things over and over again. Part of my reasoning is grounded in the Boots Theory of Socioeconomic Unfairness.  It's cheaper, in the long run, to buy something that costs more upfront.  It is also partly my rebellion against a consumer, throw away society.  The type of society that tells you to use something for a while, and then throw it away before it is really even used up, because there is always something better to be bought.  There is something as well, in my psyche, that has me always on the lookout for an "ideal kit" of some sort.  I am unsure where this idea comes from.  It is most likely just engrained in the consumer society that I already noted I am trying to avoid, but I would like to think that it is thanks to our imaginations that we can imagine so many ways to put together the ideal set of stuff, and once the ideal set was attained, then the Boots Theory would come fully into play - oh, the Raleigh Superbe, with the canvas backpack, the Konica Auto S2, and a Pilot Metropolitan fountain pen! Wait, the Rivendell, with the Arkel Bug backpack/pannier, the Olympus OM-2, and a Parker Jotter.  Maybe the happy little three speed, with a shoulder bag, and the Electro 35 GSN.

But that's really another topic entirely.  What I was thinking about was how I tend to get something I really like, such as the Raleigh Superbe, and then I don't use it much out of fear of wearing it out.  The Raleigh, at 73, is really something of an antique.  I start worrying about wearing down the chainring and having to take to Ebay to find a replacement.  I think it is part of the crank too, so I would be replacing a really nice, shiny crankarm if I wear down the chainring.  I buy something that is of good quality, but then, instead of following the adage "Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without" I start thinking that I need to preserve whatever it was I bought.  "Well," I find myself thinking, "the Raleigh is 73 years old.  Maybe I should buy a more recent Raleigh, or maybe a Schwinn three speed - and my brain is off to the races looking at Craigslist and eyeing garage sales.  I fall into this sort of thinking with all kinds of things.  I managed to repair and somehow miraculously solder some wiring in my Konica Auto S2 camera, (with which the photo was taken).  It is, if not my favourite camera, then up there near the top.  But instead of using it a lot, I start wondering about my soldering job, wondering how long the electronics for the auto setting are going to work, etc.  I had my OM-1n overhauled by John Hermanson, so I find myself thinking, "it's in great condition now.  Do I really want to take it down into all the sand of the Grand Canyon."

I really do want to focus on using things rather than preserving things.  I've had friends with backpacks so patched and faded it was clear that they had - and were in the midst of - long lives of intense use.  My initial thought, when the fender rattled apart, was to find a vintage replacement, or to find a new replacement, though the info I have been able to find has been scant regarding what size fenders to buy.  (One site, and one only, said that 26" fenders weren't right for 26 and 1 3/8 tires, that they were closer to 29ers.)  But you know what - the zip ties are going to work perfectly well for a while.  I don't always need to rush to put things right.  I buy things to use, not to collect.  At least that's what I tell myself.