I happen to live in an area where cycling is very popular. Everything from commuting by bike, to getting around, cycling to school or into town as well as the more specialised sports like mountain biking and road racing is GO! There is a bicycle cafe nearby, which serves delicious coffee to bike enthusiasts and locals alike. And, every day as the dogs traverse their daily walk, we meet cyclists on route. In the woods, next to the canals and on the Taff Trail, the very long path that winds its way for many miles all the way to Cardiff Bay.
A few years ago I thus went to a local bicycle repair shop, and bought a beautifully refurbished bike. Older than me, and sturdy in every way, a three gear bike that I immediately fell in love with. Apparently its previous owner had ridden the bike well into old age, and I felt compelled to follow suit. I bought light, a helmet and – thanks to the recommendation of the friendly shop owner, a Crane bell, a Japanese bike bell. On their website you can actually listen to recordings of what the bells sound like, which I though was a nice touch 🙂
Anyhow, I soon put the bike and its bell to good use, cycling to local work appointments and into town or to the library, gladly announcing myself with the bright sound of the bell. I loved it (maybe annoyingly so). And that was the moment I realised that I am in the tiny minority of cyclists who still have a bell on their bike.
Whilst every other aspect of cycling technology seems to have been adopted with glee, and faster, bigger and BIGGER bikes are seemingly everywhere, there is a distinct lack of bell use. Most commonly, there is no notice of anyone approaching at all, or a last minute call of “bike” as they pass by. This morning I had a polite lady call out “Bike Passing!” as she approached from behind, but more commonly there is simply a loud and sudden “LEFT” or “RIGHT”, as urgent men rush by. The ominous whirring sound of fast tires on asphalt meanwhile is often the only signal to take cover on the verges as lycra clad groups of fast racers swish past.
Why, I wonder, is EVERY conceivable piece of kit attached to the bikes, but no bells? (I am equally puzzled at the absence of mud guards on so many bikes nowadays, which often result in cyclists sprayed in mud down the whole back, and which in such a wet and muddy country in particular, feels like an oversight.)
Like with so many products that evolve with shrinking profit margins over time, I think bells became an optional extra somewhere along the way, making you neither faster not needing an app to function, and thus inherently un-sexy to use. They are a retro and analogue technology of cycling that has fallen out of favour, but which I miss daily.
There’s probably a metaphor in there somewhere about technological progress, but I am not going there today. Instead, I went into the garage, where my bike has safely over-wintered, and rang the bell, the chimes echoing of the garage walls and roof. Soon, as spring is approaching, I shall be out and about again on the bike, checking my analogue watch on my wrist for the time as I cycle to the record shop and along the way I am going to ring the bell as I pass walkers and dogs cheerily in an act of defiance. The age of the bicycle bell may be nearly over. But not just yet.