My Vanilla albatross
Yesterday I was downshifting under modest torque and the derailleur hung up in a spoke. Less than 1/8 of a turn and it was mangled. It’s possible the derailleur was fatigued and just at its limit. I took the wheel out last night and the jockey cage was twisted open. Luckily I was going slow & I was close to home.
I sent an email (and called) Vanilla bikes yesterday, they (this pronoun is very weird and I’ll get to the weirdness in a minute) suggested I bring the frame in this morning. Which I did.
The nice-but-anonymous person at Vanilla (also weird … ) said “oh, we’ve seen way worse than this,” and said they’d straighten it out today or over the weekend. No hurry, I’m gonna need a new derailleur, or at least the cage.
This bike is at an inflection point. The paint and most of the components have at least 20,000 miles on them (perhaps more — I took the computers off my bikes last year). Do I just slap a new cage on this and call it good? Do I sink serious money into making this bike shiny-like-new again? Or maybe I should sell it? (The frame is worth way more now than I paid for it … more weirdness …) I’ve kind of grown past a sleek racing bike like this. My bike needs now are different:
Why this is all so weird
I bought this bike in 2004. Vanilla bicycles and Sacha White were one and the same. His waiting list was about six months long which felt intolerable at the time (it’s five-plus years now and he’s stopped taking orders). I think the frame and fork together were less than $2000 (probably $5000 or more now). When I bought this bike, it was like buying a piece of furniture from a acquaintance. Just two dudes, doin’ business, mano a mano, cash only. When you called or emailed the entity known as “Vanilla Bicycles” it was understood that you were really communicating with Sacha White. The pronoun you used was “he.”
That relationship was why I bought a custom bicycle; that relationship no longer exists. Now, when you communicate with “Vanilla Bicycles” you communicate with a bicycle company. The pronoun you use is “they.” It’s still a local company, the service is fantastic, and I can just kind of stop by. But still: no longer doing business with an acquaintance, but with a Real Company with Business Hours and Anonymous Employees. (Surreal moment in my conversation yesterday: Vanilla Bikes Dude asked “where are you calling from?” Did not occur to me before yesterday that anyone outside of Portland Oregon would own a Vanilla bike.)
Owning a Vanilla has become kind of an albatross. These days I like riding it less than I used to, because of the reaction I get. (“Ooooh … Vanilla … ”) I never bought this bike to show it off. So: I feel compelled to maintain this bike … because it is so fancy … but dislike the attention I get for the fanciness. So the question is: “how much work do I put into a fancy bike for a childless 32-year-old?”
