One of the reasons why I rode a singlespeed for a decade was because I had grown to hate derailleurs. There is nothing worse than being out on a ride, whether a speedy commute to work, a trip to meet a friend at the coffee shop, or on a long climb while mountain biking up Syncline in the Columbia Gorge, and then hear those dreaded noises ... Clank! Pop! Pow! The sound of the derailleur in rebellion. With so many moving parts and a stretching cable it seems like we’re always tinkering with our derailleurs. Or there are those moments when a rock or log rips our beloved 11-speed derailleur clean off.
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I have an affinity for obscurity ... off-the-beaten-path places, no-named bands that fill my Spotify playlist, and simply the innate desire to go upstream. Fortunately or unfortunately the same applies for my tastes in bikes. You see, for a number of years before moving to the Pacific Northwest I rode a singlespeed XC bike at a time when most were not. I was drawn to the allure of singlespeed riding simply because it was "different" back then. But I had help.