By Christopher Cudworth

About the only math subject in which this art major ever excelled was geometry. So I understand the basics of how geometry works. Or at least I think I do. There are shapes. They behave or are formed by certain rules. Those rules relate to mathematics. There is a certain predictability to those rules if you pay attention to the numbers.

The classic geometry of a Schwinn bike.

The same thing goes for bikes. As a rule, bike geometry has not changed all that much in the last 100 years. You have a crankset at the bottom where the pedals are attached. A chain leading to the rear hub. That’s what makes it go. Then there’s the rest of the frame, which typically forms a sort of triangle, for strength, with the front and rear forks holding the wheels. Then you have handlebars and a seatpost.

If you accept this premise as basic bike geometry, then your prejudices toward the modernization of bikes will not sway you from the value of a classic bike. In yesterday’s story about a Schwinn Varsity that moved to a new owner, the bike symbolized something important in life. That is, the weight of our being can be tough to carry. Meanwhile, it works the opposite way as well. Sometimes the things we bring into our lives, or the things that get dumped on us at times, have to be carried as well. That’s what the Beatles were talking about when they sang those lyrics at the end of Abbey Road, side two.

“Boy….You’re gonna carry that weight, a long time…”

But everything is relative, and how you carry that burden can determine how you view the burden, and what it is in life that slows you down, or not.

Tiny, also known as Kevin, stands with his Schwinn.

Which is why I was so fascinated to meet a guy named Tiny.

He’s anything but tiny. His real name is Kevin, but I don’t know any more about him other than what he told me about liking to ride his newfound friend, a Schwinn bike that had been sitting in the garage of a friend. The friend was going to give the bike away or sell it, and Tiny decided he wanted that bike. “I’ve always liked to ride,” he told me outside the Walgreen’s store in Batavia where he’d parked the bike while going inside to get some cigarettes and a Gatorade. “So I asked him for the bike.”

That Schwinn bike has what can only be called a classic bike geometry. The bottom tube is 8″ down from the top tube on the front tube. Makes a big triangle, that.

The bike is also constructed with very thin metal tubing. It almost looks frail by comparison to today’s fatter, sleeker carbon fiber bikes. Even the most basic road bike models have elongated shapes in the tubing. The better to mount the logos of the bike makers?

To accommodate a not so Tiny butt. It’s basic geometry. Put part of the seat under the “sit bones.”

Tiny loves his Schwinn. He’s put a new seat on it. “That’s to make my butt fit,” he chortles. He also hung a sturdy wire basket on the front so he can carry shit around if he likes. And he likes.

Standing with a sheen of sweat on his body and dripping from his head, it was obvious Tiny had ridden hard enough to get some exercise. He makes no pretense about his size. He carries his weight with personality and panache. Some of it may go away, that weight, if he keeps riding a lot. But not likely. Some people move through life and carry that weight in a sphere of their own. They are happy doing what they are doing. No amount of lycra would change them. Nor would a bike with a different, more radical or race-oriented geometry.

Because it turns out that for some people, life is not a race at all. They get from Point A to  Point B faster or slower, and it doesn’t matter to anyone but them. Then they go from Point B to Point C, closing the loop for that day, and the next. Their geometry is different, you see, from the Strava and the like. Their internal maps are all they ever want. And a Schwinn is plenty capable of taking them there.

It’s classic geometry.