My brother, Crash Test Kevin, and I are riding our single speeds up the road a couple kilometers from his place to what I’d call his backyard trails. For most of the climb, our gearing is such that it’s a grind to sit and turn the pedals. But, standing it feels like more effort goes into standing up than actually turning the pedals over. So we go back and forth between both options – that’s life with #1FG sometimes.

There are roadies everywhere. We’ve obviously inserted ourselves into some kind of massive outing. And, if it makes sense, we’re in the eye of the storm. There’s a pack of full-on roadies roaring up ahead of us and then an endless stream of folks on a whole collection of drop-bar rigs from touring triples to your standard budget-carbon 105 bike. 

Some mountain bikers would pick up the pace to put on a good show but we couldn’t give a f*ck beyond saying a very friendly and chill “hello, how’s it going?” to each suffering soul slipping past. Remember, when you see someone abusing themselves uphill on a bicycle always politely ask open-ended questions and use body English to indicate you’re listening for the (laboured) response. 

We’re getting a bit of joy out of the affair when our friend Larry Talker randomly rocks up next to us on his swept bar Talbot – a beauty custom road bike he bought new in 1986. The wiry former catalogue model, also known as Model-T, is driving those cranks in slow circles with a smile on his lips and mischief in his eyes. We give him some encouragement and a loud send off and he goes past. Then, as the next person in his event catches us the real fun begins. 

“How’s it going? Did you notice that guy in front of you is on a SINGLE SPEED?”

What multi-speed roadie – professional, amateur, begintermidiate, or fresh-faced in their first pair of 3-bolt shoes – has an ego that’s shielded from the knowledge that the old(er) guy that’s putting it to them is cranking on a one-speed? And going up that long, straight, incline nearly every time we brought it up as if on cue, Model-T would rise from his saddle and put in a few hard turns, and then sit down and return to steadily steaming. 

There wasn’t a roadie going past who, on learning of Talker’s onespeededness, didn’t dig deep and find a new pace they were incapable of only breaths earlier. Most of them flamed out without getting within a bike length, their legs, lungs, and egos obviously not in sync. I like to think that the couple, or few, riders that did get close enough to read his #NoStravaNoRules sticker regretted that decision for the many clicks remaining. 

It’s funny, to me, that I always go back to that Larry Talker story when I’m thinking about single-speed gearing. As full-juice as he was on his Talbot that day it’s another climb up the same hill, with a whole pack of fellow one speeders, that I really meant to talk about tonight. On this day, Model-T showed up on his Honzo with a chainring four teeth smaller than anyone else and a cog larger than most. 

If watching the roadies chase M-T up the hill on his Talbot was a hilarious example of what the average rider thinks of single speeding, this was a more humbling experience. He had the easiest gear on tap by a bit. He certainly wasn’t the least fit member of the crew. He was slower than the pack off the line and for exactly the first, flat, 50m of the ride. Up that same road climb he spun up in the front half of the group and he stayed there through technical trail climbs, rolling terrain, and pumpy descents all the way back to the cars. 

That single ride fully opened my mind to the fact that single speeding is not actually about combining a 32t chainring with the biggest cog your can turn. No, it’s choosing whatever single ratio works for you. You could be like me and ride the same gearing all the time based off of a couple of hard climbs I regularly do. Or, you could be like any number of folks I know with multiple cogs on tap who select their gearing for a given mission profile. 

Sure, there is such a thing as too easy a gear riding a single speed, but there’s nothing universal about it. Too easy is entirely defined by you and your experience. If you can turn 29’ers up the No Quarter Climb in a 32×20 that’s amazing. If you can spin smaller hoops up the same in 26×22 that’s amazing too.  

Like riding a single speed in general, you have to commit and then experiment with what works for you. I just hope no one is intimidated away from a spectacular, silent, and simple single speed experience because of the gear ratio they’d “have to” run. It’s about the ride – let go your ego and ride what works for you.