Recently while pawing through one of my favorite bicycle magazines, I was struck by the number of ads for retro bicycles, gear and accessories. For instance, an ad for Brooks leather saddles — a saddle that came on one of my earliest bikes, a Raleigh Competition — caught my eye. That saddle was essentially a thick piece of cowhide suspended at the tip and the butt of the saddle, and the black leather when new felt about as hard as stone. It took a year or so, but eventually the leather broke in and conformed to my nether parts and ended up being quite comfortable.

A few years later, lighter saddles started showing up on the market, saddles with plastic shells and titanium rails. Some of these saddles weighed about a third as much as a typical Brooks saddle (540 grams for the B17), and so a swap could shave nearly a pound off a bicycle. It didn’t matter how uncomfortable the saddle was, if it could shave off that much weight, most of us, at least in racing circles, bolted on the new, lighter saddles.

Cyclists have always been obsessed with weight, and our bikes have been on diets for years. In the ‘60s and ‘70s, Eddy Merckx rode Campy-equipped bikes with hundreds of holes drilled into the components to shave off weight — through the chain rings, brake levers, derailleurs; any part that didn’t support the rider. He rode on superlight, silk-casing tubular tires, less than 200 grams per tire. In his day, he pedaled the lightest bicycle that money could buy. Merckx, however, did not have carbon fiber or titanium technology, and so his bikes were much heavier than the typical pro bike today, which weighs about 15 pounds. By Union Cycliste Internationale rule, the bike must weigh at least 6.8 kilograms.

In most local bike shops, we can buy bikes that weigh as little as this. Years ago, this was unheard of, but today it is commonplace. Perhaps some day my 15-pound Trek Madone will seem like a tank, and I’ll say, “How did I ever ride this thing?” I never thought I’d think it or say it, but a mass-produced 10-pound bike seems like a reality in the near future.

And yet, we’re still making and loving heavy (at least relative to carbon) steel bicycles. When I surf through the pictures of all the lovely bicycles at the latest North American Hand Made Bicycle Show (handmadebicycleshow.com), I can’t help but picture one or two — or any of the bikes, for that matter — underneath me as I tool down the road. The swooping lines of chain stays and seat stays, the intricate lug work, cut out bottom brackets and cast fork crowns. It’s all good. Although the steel bikes I own weren’t obsessed over like these show bikes, I still enjoy riding them now and again, if for no better reason than to remind myself that the wind feels the same on my face and through my hair no matter what bicycle I’m on.

My attitude toward bikes as well as gear, I admit, is somewhat schizophrenic. Take today, for instance, when I went on a long road ride aboard my carbon bike, which rolled down the road with little resistance. Sometimes, it feels like that bike has a motor, it goes down the road so easily. Later in the day, I grabbed a steel bike and pedaled down to the video store to return a rental. On my long road ride, I wore a high-tech Pearl Izumi jacket and tights, and wore light carbon-soled shoes. This stuff is so much better than the garb we wore in the mid-‘80s. Like the strap helmet; a few thin pieces of leather that offered about the same protection as a ball cap. Or the thin-soled leather shoes, about as thick as ballet slippers.

On the other hand, I have a stack of wool jerseys in my closet, which I routinely wear, particularly in damp weather. Wool still keeps me warmer than any other fabric in the damp cold. Riding around town, I see that cotton and wool cycling caps are back in. Another ad in the magazine I referred to earlier shows a guy in wool jacket and knickers, toting a cotton messenger bag, astride a bike, vintage 1946. Retro is not only functional but it is also cool, harking back to the good old days when cycling wasn’t as mainstream as it is today. Sure, it may just be good marketing, and right now vintage cycling bikes and products are trendy, but much of the old stuff was well-made and functional, meant for a lifetime of riding.

On second thought, I don’t know if my attitude toward bicycles and cycling gear is entirely schizophrenic. Maybe I just like all bicycle technology, from wool jerseys and steel bikes to 11-speed titanium cog sets and 2-pound carbon fiber frames. I don’t feel this way about other technology — like this computer keyboard I’m tapping away at. Sooner more likely than later, it will join the other old computers up in the attic. It’s not like we get out the old Hewlett Packard from the late ‘80s and bang out a few sentences for old time’s sake. Old computers are trash, often toxic, with little redeeming value other than a few recyclable materials. Most of our electronic technology is the same. Think of all the TVs, cell phones and digital cameras we’ve run through in the last decade. In the end, it makes up a mountain of junk.

Right now, Lou, one of my colleagues is restoring an old Schwinn Varsity, buying the old bike a new wheel set, replacing the cables, housing and tires. He rode a Varsity as a kid, and it worked well back then. So when Lou was gifted his latest project, he figured he’d restore the old bike. It weighs close to 40 pounds, but it will take a nuclear holocaust to destroy that old Chicago iron. Lou suggested I take it for a spin when he’s done.

“Sure,” I said. “But you really need to check out my new carbon fiber 29er.”

Mark Parman lives in Wausau, Wisconsin, where he teaches English and journalism at the University of Wisconsin-Marathon County.

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