Shit fixie skidders say...

At its most utilitarian, wheelbuilding is glorified assembly work, exemplified daily in the same factories where most of the world’s bicycles are mass produced as factory workers lace a wheel in a matter of seconds before sending it down the line where it’s finished by machine. A similar process occurred at a Midwest-based wheel company I worked for when we fulfilled the occasional contract order for larger brands, building thousands of wheels within a week’s time. With a motor-assisted jig that used sensors to line up the spoke holes, the average time to lace a 32-spoke wheel was just 39 seconds. While I can appreciate the efficiency of such a process, in my opinion there’s something missing.

In cooking, it’s said that a recipe has no soul, that the chef must bring it to life using their own deft hands and sensory awareness. If one can allow that a well-functioning bicycle is the result of a specific recipe, then the wheel is certainly an integral part of the feast. In today’s era of fast-food-style commerce and consumption thereof, it’s a pleasure to sit down with intention and attention to bring a wheel to life. Rolling threads into spokes, prepping the ingredients, and finding a balance between opposing forces holds a certain ritualistic space. The high-end blingy wheels are of course fun, but the most satisfying thing is when a recreational rider who commissions a modest hand-built wheelset comments on how “alive” their bike feels—truth that everyone can appreciate a good slow-cooked meal.