Get derailled
From the AI, from the lonely silos, from the worn groove you've found yourself in
Derailleur: French word meaning “something or someone who derails.” I know because I read the Wikipedia article on derailleurs. The derailleur (the bicycle one) moves the chain from one cog to the next through the tightening or loosening of a wire. So simple, so elegant. No wifi needed. No extraneous AI. No phantom limb of a phone to get full functionality.
I’ve got derailleur on the brain. Sure, the device, particularly the old Suntour ones I like to look at on eBay and never buy. But moreso, the derailleur in abstract.
What I mean is, there’s an increasing feeling of “stuckness” I’ve heard about from many people. I know I experience it: Alienation in the technological age, the bullshit, full-throated embrace of AI, the consumeristic drive and the further disconnect from reality. I don’t need to say more.
We need mental derailleurs. The mechanism that moves the brain, moves life from one gear to the next. Where we recognize when things aren’t working, so we shift.
Part of that shift is happening for me. The bicycle itself has become a big part of my mental and physical health maintenance the past couple years. I’ve always loved bikes, and rode a lot in my 20s. But switching to a sedentary job, getting soberer and having knee issues brought me back to bicycles.
Now I go out to sweat and clear my head. Realizations about childhood trauma or new creative ideas seem to float to me in a space where I’m not looking at a screen or ingesting content. I think about what I love about life and how I can make life better for those around me. Sometimes I think about dumb shit, too, like washing machines on trampolines.
It’s not perfect most of the time. Maybe I’m tired as hell or the weather is gloomy or I’m riding at night with rabbits and frogs darting in front of me. Lately, also, I’ve been looking to ride more with other people because this world gets lonely. But I think that’s part of the process of life. Fine tuning. You adjust. You put in the ugly rides so the pretty rides are more fun.
I remember at 17 having this epiphany that my life needed to be balanced. Too much weight on one end of the scale throws the whole thing sideways. But maybe balancing a scale isn’t the right metaphor. Maybe it’s something less obvious, something that responds to life’s tightening and slack, something that adjusts to the peaks and valleys of life. You know, like a derailleur.
Nah, fuck it just run a singlespeed