Observations from time in the saddle on a single-speed bike proves you don’t need gears to have fun…

A FEW YEARS AGO AT THE SEA OTTER CLASSIC, I encountered a single speed from SWOBO, a Santa Cruz-based bike company (it later moved to Colorado). The bike fit me noticeably better than my older trail bike. I had choices: I could upgrade my aging mountain bike; wait until I had enough discretionary income to afford a thousand-dollar-plus modern mountain bike – which probably would be never; or get this affordable, sturdy and responsive bike, and discover how well I could ride it around the local terrain.

Any bike is (with a helmet) fun to ride around neighborhoods. However, a bicycle with one gear for exploring gravel roads and labyrinthine trails (with a helmet) on Fort Ord National Monument seems… eclectic. I suppose it is – I’ve yet to encounter another single speed enthusiast out in the hills. But it works for me.

A simpler bike greatly reduces my FOBO (Fear Of Better Options). I don’t covet big-buck rigs with state-of-the-art technology, because most of it doesn’t apply to single-speed bikes. Minimal components and no suspension make my single speed less expensive and easier to maintain than a conventional bike of similar quality. I focus on user performance, not the tool.

Regular time on my single speed has encouraged me to become a better, stronger rider. My first ride revealed that I don’t need all those gears. I’ve tuned riding skills not foremost for a rider relying on a conventional bike’s mechanical advantages: maintaining energy for a long climb ahead (or just to get back home), reserving energy to get over the steepest section of a hill, using momentum and body positioning to navigate a technical downhill section (instead of blasting through and relying on the equipment to absorb the beating – and yes, that’s also fun).

A single gear ratio caps my power uphill and thin tires with no shock slows my descents; those limitations I mitigate with clip-in shoes, which allow me to power through the complete 360-degree pedal cycle with less energy, enabling me to ride terrain that I might otherwise have to walk.

Walking my bike up or down a steep hill or technical section just becomes part of the experience, and that’s OK. Slowing down attunes me to my surroundings, a big reason why I ride Ford Ord. Mechanical simplicity makes a quieter bike; less moving parts, no ratcheting gear clusters, nor buzzing, crunching fat tires to drown out the birds, the goats, the wind through the trees – and other approaching riders. Stealthiness on a fast-moving bike in the hills isn’t really that safe; I have bells attached to my saddle, and activate a flashing forward-facing light when the trail gets tight.

At route’s end, I’m happily worked, recharged and grateful from a brief excursion into the local backcountry. When I get home I don’t feel overly-tossed around by the trail, just ready for that post-ride beer.