Success and Fame

Success and fame are two things that many strive for in a lifetime, but they are two entities that cannot be measured. By what yardstick do you measure them anyway? Can you measure success by money? I don’t think so. The brokers and bankers on Wall Street made a great deal of money, but I would hardly call them successful.

How do you measure fame? There are probably more people who know me as an ex-bicycle framebuilder, than when I was actually building frames in the 1980s. This is because of the Internet, and anyone can build a following with blogs and the social media. But is this fame, can I take it to the bank, and do I even need to take it to the bank in order to be successful in life?

I think I can safely say I was a successful framebuilder. I think one of the reasons for that is that I didn’t set out to be a “famous” framebuilder. In my youth I wanted to be a famous racing cyclist. When that didn’t happen, framebuilding was an offshoot of the bike racing.

I became a good framebuilder because I built a lot of frames, like any skill the more you practice the better you become. I didn’t want to be famous, I just wanted to make a lot of money. Back then, I believed success was money.

People strive for fame because they want to be noticed. It’s why teens dress in outrageous fashions. I’m not knocking it, I did exactly the same in my teen years. Without this drive there would be no artists, no music, no books, no movies.

Who would even stand up in front of others to perform in some way or other, if they were not saying, “Look at me, look at me, look at me?

So if I say, “Look at me,” I had better have something worthwhile to offer when people do look. Alternatively, if I don’t have anything worthwhile yet because I am only just starting out, (Everyone must start somewhere.) then at least I should recognize this and strive to be better.

The young and the inexperienced would actually be better off if they didn’t draw attention to themselves by dressing or behaving in an outrageous manner. They say, “Look at me,” and when people look there is nothing to see. Nothing substantial. Talent will always shine through in the end, and people will look because they want to.

I have come to realize that what drives me now is not any desire to be noticed, or famous, but to have a positive affect on the lives of others. I have been fortunate enough to build bikes that people still enjoy riding. I am fortunate that I am able to share the knowledge I have gained over the years.

When someone reads my book, or something I have written here, and they tell me it made them think, or they learned something, or they were entertained. That is a positive effect, it is all the success I need. I can’t measure it, but it is pretty big.

More thoughts on thinking

This piece is a follow-up to my last post about negative thinking. The reason I know a little about the subject is not from anything I read in a book, but from experience.

Believe it or not but I was once a very negative person. I believed in Murphy's Law, “Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.” Along with that other little philosophical gem, “Shit Happens.”

I will give you an example; sometime in 1986 I was painting a custom frame. I was spraying a candy-apple red over a white base. The nature of this paint is that it is semi transparent, and you see the base color through the top color. Like looking at the apple through the candy coating; hence the name.

It is absolutely essential to spray the paint on evenly or the result will be light and dark patches because of the varying thicknesses of paint. I had just started spraying the red coat when I became aware of a large black fly buzzing around inside the totally enclosed paint booth.

I couldn't stop painting and catch the fly or open the door to let him out, because to do so the paint would dry on the half finished frame and there would be streaks where I started painting again because the dry paint would not flow in with the wet paint. I had no choice but to keep going. I kept telling myself, "That damn fly is going to land on the frame, I just know it."

The fly did not just land on the wet paint so maybe I could have carefully lifted him off leaving only six tiny footprints. No, he flew right in front of the paint gun, into the stream of paint, and ended up "splat" in the middle of the top tube.

With any other type of paint the fly could have been picked off, and after the paint had been oven cured it could have been sanded smooth and touched up. With candy-apple paint the whole frame had to be stripped of paint, down to the bare metal, re-sandblasted, and repainted from scratch. This involved many hours of work.

At that time my ex-wife and I were going to marriage counseling, and that same evening I was talking to the female councilor, telling the same story I have just outlined here. She listened, and when I was though venting, she said, “Can't you see you created that to happen by your negative thinking?"

She pointed out a framed quotation she had hanging on the wall of her office. It was from Hamlet, by William Shakespeare, it read, "Nothing is good or bad, that thinking made it so."

It was an epiphany, a light bulb went on in my head, I thought about the huge space the fly had in the paint booth and what were the chances of it flying between the paint gun and the frame within seconds of my negative thought. In addition, a top tube is only one inch wide, the fly could have easily gone over or under and not landed smack in the middle.

In the days that followed I went back to work a changed man. I recognized my negative thoughts and replaced them with good positive thoughts. About a week later the power of positive thinking was demonstrated to me in a very dramatic fashion.

I had to go to the bank to deposit some checks and get back to my shop as quickly as possible as I was expecting a visitor. It was 4 pm. in the afternoon in a town in Southern California, the traffic was horrendous.

I came out of the bank and as I walked to my car I was thinking, "I'll never make it out of here." I had to cross four lanes of traffic to make a left turn, with no traffic light. Then I told myself, "Don't think that way, there will be a gap in traffic."

I pulled out of the parking lot and on to a four lane highway there was not a car in sight in either direction. I made a joke about it, I leaned forward in my seat and looked up at the sky and said, "Thank you God, I just needed a space to get out, you didn't have to clear the whole fucking town."

As I drove towards my shop, cars came towards me and from behind and I was back in normal rush hour traffic. Those who have read my novel, Prodigal Child, will recognize this story. The story is true, although in the book, a work of fiction, the location is changed.

That single event had a profound affect on me. I have never had the power of positive thinking demonstrated to me in such a dramatic fashion since. However, I can assure you positive thinking continues to provide parking spaces and gaps in traffic when I need them.

I still ride my bike defensively and always stay alert on the roads; there are also certain roads that I will only use at weekends when traffic is lighter. I think positive but I don't act stupid.

I can tell by some of the comments that some do not fully understand this concept. It is not “Blame the Victim.” A person holding a fear of being robbed, is clearly not to blame if they are then robbed. However, a positive thought may have prevented this outcome.

It is not religion, it is the way the Universe works; it is Metaphysics. Having said this, even the medical profession accepts that prayer can help a sick person heal. What is a prayer? It is a positive thought; a statement of an outcome made with the quiet knowing that it will be so.

This is where the faith comes in. It is not the blind faith of religion, but confidence in the outcome of the positive thought. Without that, the positive thought will not work, but then again, without the faith in the outcome, it is no longer a positive thought.

Not only must we be aware of our own positive and negative thoughts, but those of others around us. Show me a person experiencing a string of misfortune, like illness, accident, car trouble, a victim of crime, etc., and I can practically guarantee that person has some other crap going on in their life.

For example, a divorce or break up of a relationship, trouble at work with a co-worker, conflict with a family member; anywhere there is conflict and a lot of negativity flying around. The good news is if you are aware of this, your own positive thoughts will cancel out the negative ones of others.

I care about cyclists, and it bothers me when I read about people taking abuse on the roads. Especially when I know that a change in attitude will make a huge difference in rectifying the problem. It will not happen overnight, like any learning process, it takes time and effort.

For close to fifty years, my philosophy in life was this: "Life is a bitch, and then you die." I lived a life of pain, suffering, misfortune, failed relationships, etc. etc. I got what I expected from life, and as Shakespeare said, "Thinking made it so."

The course of my life was changed for the better by a chance comment by a female marriage councilor, whose name I don't even remember. I pass on my experiences that it may cause others to think on their thought process. That is all; I am not trying to convert anyone to anything.

Doug commented on my last post with a story about a dog who chased a group of cyclists, the dog bit the one woman who held negative thoughts about dogs. This story is similar to my story about the fly in the paint booth, the fly and the dog both did exactly what we thought they would.

If a cyclist has negative thoughts about other road users, there a plenty of drivers out there who hate cyclists; the two are going to be drawn to each other. Call it Karma, call it Bike-ma if you wish, but it is the way this Universe works.

Reverse the polarity; change your thinking from negative to positive and you will no longer draw the bad stuff towards you. You will not eliminate the assholes; you will just not attract them to you. Not only will you be helping yourself, but helping the cause of all cyclists.

Cyclists are constantly calling for change. Mahatma Gandhi said, "Before you can change the world, change your own thinking."

Fear and Negativity: Don’t even think about it

Before I posted my last piece about the Australian road rage incident, I faced a dilemma; should I post the story or not. Most times, I shy away from posting negative articles.

However, I decided to go ahead, because I knew others would run with the story anyway. I felt that bringing a story like this, involving high profile riders, to public attention might cause others to think twice about the seriousness of doing something similar.

It was never my intention to strike fear into cyclists. Fear is one of the basic instincts we share with all creatures of this earth. Fear of death or injury ensures survival of the various species.

Politicians and the media play on this primal instinct to benefit their own ends, with negative advertising and negative reporting. However, I see a difference between reporting something that actually happened, as opposed to discussing what could happen. The media does this all too often.

Do you remember Y2K and how all kinds of terrible things would happen at the stroke of midnight on January 1st. 2000. That time and date came and went and nothing happened, and the media moved on to find other items to scare us.

Whatever happened to the Bird Flu? Did it suddenly disappear, or did they find a miracle cure? Because a few short years ago we were all going to catch this terrible disease, old people and children would die from it. It was spread by birds and mosquitoes, those little critters are everywhere.

I quit watching the news on TV because it is so negative and depressing, and the terrible thing is it is not news. At worst, it is fiction; at its best, it is irrelevant issues grossly exaggerated and blown out of all proportion.

I get the news I need from the Internet; and I often see the same negativity there; however, I can be selective in what I read.

The problem is, being constantly fed a diet of fear and negativity; it creeps into people's lives and their everyday thinking. We speculate on the worst that could happen.

I see it on the various bike forums and blogs, where cyclists recall the near misses, and their run-ins with aggressive drivers. The problem is, the person posting is re-living the event, and causing others to re-live their bad experiences. We cannot erase bad events that have happened in the past, but we can learn from them and move on.

Is it any wonder that some, who would ride a bike, are afraid to ride on the road? A person might wonder why anyone rides there at all, if it is that bad. The truth is it is not that bad, if you look at the situation from a more positive viewpoint.

A few years ago, lived a wise and holy man from India named Sri Nisargadatta. During the 1970s he gave interviews with anyone who cared to sit with him and ask questions. These interviews were recorded, then translated into English, and published in a book called “I am that.”

Many times throughout the book he is asked, “How do you feel about all the wars, death and destruction around the world, and what about all the disease and suffering?" He would always answer, “This is in your world, not mine.”

On the surface this seems a somewhat uncaring attitude, however, I can understand this answer, having just read an online post by a cyclist. The writer asks why the hatred from other road users, why do they scream abuse at him, throw trash at him, and try to run him off the road?

The cyclist is from another state in the south, not far from South Carolina where I live. How different can drivers be, between the two states? Yet none of these terrible experiences he relates, ever happen to me. Like Sri Nisargadatta I could answer, “This is in your world, not mine."

The difference is, when I set out for a bike ride I do so with a positive attitude and I am not expecting the worst will happen. I go riding with the attitude that most people on the road a simply a cross section of the population and for the most part are inherently, good, decent people. Only a tiny minority are criminally inclined, and malicious.

We all know that many drivers are inattentive, however, they are not inattentive 100% of the time, so the chances of them being distracted at the precise moment they pass me is remote. In other words, the odds of my not being hit are far greater than being hit, so why should I dwell on the thought that that a slight possibility might occur.

Most successful people believe in the power of positive thinking; the problem is negative thoughts are just as powerful. We attract to ourselves whatever we hold in our thoughts. A person riding a bike with the attitude that all drivers are morons will attract the behavior they expect.

It is natural to have negative thoughts and to fear the worst, not only are we bombarded with negativity from the media, we get it constantly from work colleagues and those around us; plus as previously mentioned, fear is a basic instinct.

However, as humans we are capable of rationalizing, and do not need to live our lives in constant fear. We are all freethinking spirits and we do not have to dwell on the negative.

Something else I have learned; the things that annoy me as I go through life have a tendency to keep repeating. I try to recognize these re-occurring annoyances, observe them as such, but try not to get angry. After doing this a few times, the annoyance stops re-occurring.

If bad experiences are happening to you every time you ride, realize these bad incidents involve different people. The only common denominator in these totally random incidents is you.

There is a tendency to find whatever we look for. If we look for the worst in people, this is most likely what we will find. Turn that around and realize that there are more good people in this world than bad.

I try to fill my mind with good positive thoughts before I even set out on a ride; I have no control over the thoughts and actions of others, only those of my own.

I don't worry if negative thoughts slip back in, because I know they will. I am conscious of these thoughts and replace them with a positive one. A positive thought will always cancel out a negative one, as surely as light will overcome darkness, and good will overcome bad.

If you are skeptical, try it anyway; what have you got to lose? Just your bad experiences.

Sensations, simple pleasures and passions

I have often tried to analyze what it is about cycling, in particular riding a road bike that makes it a life long passion.

Many people, including myself, have had periods when we stopped riding, but we are always drawn back at some point or other.

Non-cyclists can’t understand it, and it is only another cyclist having the same passion who can.

Passions derive from sensations, feelings. I don’t think anyone can explain why certain simple things in life give us so much pleasure.

A beautiful sunset, the taste of a favorite food, or a particular sound. These things have to be experienced to understand, and even then, another person may not have the same sensation.

Out riding alone last November on a quiet country road, the weather was dry and sunny, but cool. The sound of acorns popping under my tires caught my attention. The whole road carpeted with acorns, freshly fallen from overhanging Live Oak trees; it was impossible not to ride over them.

Driving a car, that sensation would not be there, even if I had the windows down and could hear the sound. Walking or running, or simply stomping on the acorns would not have had the same affect.

It had something to do with the speed, and a feeling that only another cyclist would fully understand; the feeling that came from knowing that I was the source of propulsion. The feeling of effort, muscle power transformed into forward motion.

The sound somehow drove me to push harder, and gave me renewed energy. The faster I rode the more rapid the popping sound, and the more intense the feeling.

This feeling was close to the sensation of flying, without actually leaving the ground. In fact, the minimum contact with the ground or road was a large part of the feeling.

As a seven or eight year old, I remember running two miles to school and back home twice each day. Running was effortless, there was no pain, and it seemed like my feet were not touching the ground. Rather I was flying, with each step a fraction of an inch above the ground.

Later as an adult when I ran, I felt every jarring step. However, riding a road bike at speed I sometimes get that same sensation of weightlessness and just barely skimming the surface of the road.

I am guessing the rapidly popping acorns enhanced that feeling by adding a sound to the sensation.

Out riding the same road yesterday, the acorns now swept to the side by passing traffic. It was still possible to ride over them by riding close to the edge of the road, but now soaked by recent rains; they no longer produced that same pleasant popping sound.

It looks like I will have to wait until next fall to experience this sensation again. It is sensations like this that turn simple pleasures into passions.

My Father

My father died in 1996 and it is not unusual that I would be thinking of him at this time as today was his birthday.

I am who I am today because of my father. Because of him I got into cycling and later racing, which led to framebuilding. Therefore, if not for my father I would never have built frames and would not be writing a bicycle blog.

For most of my early years he was gone. Called into the British army at the start of WWII, was gone for almost five years, and then came home briefly before going away again as part of the Normandy Invasion. I was nine years old when the war ended and he came home for good.

The only existing pictures of my father and me together are baby pictures like the one above. I can’t help thinking how proud he looks holding his infant son. Later our relationship would degenerate into mutual feelings that would vary somewhere between a strong dislike and deep hatred.

He was a cruel, sadistic man who one time stubbed a lighted cigarette on the back of my hand, just because he though it funny. He was an ex-amateur boxer, and wanted me to take up the sport.

At age, 11 he would have me jump rope for an hour at a time. We would put on boxing gloves and he would spar with me; invariably he would become angry when I didn’t do as he showed me, and would punch me real hard. I was knocked unconscious on several occasions.

My father never owned a car or learned to drive; a bicycle was his only transport to get to work each day. I will say one thing for my father he worked extremely hard; if he lost a job he would find another very quickly. He was a laborer with very few skills and worked a series of back-breaking, hard, menial jobs.

At times he worked long hours and made good money. He was generous with his money; incapable of showing love, I think he gave money away in lieu of affection. I was age 13 when he bought me my first brand new bike; it was a Hercules Roadster.

Not one piece of aluminum on this bike, even the mudguards were steel; it had a three-speed hub gear, and must have weighed 40lbs.

This bicycle became my escape from the torment at home. I had school friends who lived as far as 15 or 20 miles away and I would ride over to spend an evening with them, often it meant riding home after dark.

Weekends it was not unusual for me to ride 100 miles on my own. I can remember getting severe bouts of the bonk, (running out of fuel) and knocking on a stranger’s door to ask for food.

At age 15 I was attending a technical school, learning engineering. The school building was part of a complex that included a community college. Some of the older students that attended the college owned racing bikes with names like, Paris, Hobbs of Barbican, and Claud Butler. At every opportunity I would be drooling over these bikes; it was the start of a love affair that still lasts to this day.

My father came through again and bought me a modest Dawes lightweight, with a four speed Simplex derailleur. I joined a cycling club and started racing at age 16. With all the miles I had done over the years I did well and won a few club level races, and for the first time in my life people were telling me I was good at something.

Even my father showed some interest as long as I was winning, but when I didn’t he would tell me I was useless. More than anything, I wanted him to come out and see me race; but he never did.

At age 16 I began work as an engineering apprentice, and rode my bike to work every day. I arrived home one day and my mother told me my father had been involved in a serious accident at work.

He worked in an iron foundry at the time, and he and another man opened the door of the blast furnace. There was what is known as a blow back, and the two of them were completely buried in hot coals. Coworkers pulled them out immediately but they were seriously burned from head to toe.

My immediate thought was, “I hope the bastard dies.” Then I quickly saw my mother’s concern, and realized for the first time that she truly loved him. I had always assumed her feelings for him were the same as mine. My mother, who also suffered abuse, would constantly vent her frustrations over my father, with me. A form of emotional incest that was her only relief, but constantly fueled my hatred for the man.

I went to visit him at the hospital; it was a surreal experience. I saw a large piece of featureless blackened raw meat sitting up in bed; the eyes and the voice were all I could recognize, and a cigarette, stark white by contrast, sticking out were a mouth should be.

This was a day after the accident and I can only imagine the tremendous pain he must been in. But you never would have known it as he casually talked to me as if nothing had happened. To show pain would have been to show emotion and a perceived weakness. He was left with bad scars on his arms and body, but his face healed completely unscarred.

I left home at age 19 and a few years later moved away. After that I never saw my father for 25 years. I was living in California and sometime after my mother died in 1982 I wrote to him. I tried to come to terms with our relationship but later when I visited with him, the hatred and nastiness on his part was still there.

We talked about my childhood and he could not accept that he had done anything wrong, let alone ask for, or accept forgiveness. I had to wait until after his death to finally forgive him. Forgiveness is more for the sake of those sinned against, than for the sinner.

In 1996 he went for routine surgery for a bladder problem; there were complications and he had a second operation. His heart gave out under the anesthetic; he was 86. A good age considering the alcohol and tobacco abuse he had put his body through during his life.

If there can be a defense for this man, who was after all human with human weaknesses. Like many others, he went through almost six years of hell during WWII, killing people, witnessing death on a daily basis. Then was expected to come home and live a normal life. He never talked of his own childhood, but I’m sure it was bad.

I often wonder what if my father had been killed in the war; I never would have known him. I would have these pictures of this handsome man, and my mother would have no doubt told me wonderful stories about him. I would have spent my entire life trying to live up to the image of a man far greater than he could ever be in real life. Would I have turned out any better, or worse?

My father really thought that what he did was for my own good; and maybe in a way he was right; I am happy with who I turned out to be. I would not wish my childhood on anyone, but having said that I would not change a thing either.

I got through it, I survived, and maybe I’m a stronger person because of it. My childhood and my father are long gone, and anyway I realized a long time ago that no matter how hard I try, the past will never get any better.