The Immortal Class
Bike Messengers and the Cult of Human Power
Chapter 1
Chapter one
Daybreak
6:48 a.m.
there is no distinction between man and machine when I mount a bike like
this one. Trusting all of my weight to the right pedal of a simple pulley
system, I overcome the resistance of two thin tires bound by an aluminum
frame and a steel chain. A small disk at the axle of the back wheel, slowly
giving way to the force of my weight, holds the pressure taut against the
chain. As I lean forward, the weight of my body pulls the cog around the
rear axle, turning it one inch. The wheels, held tight by a matrix of metal
spokes fixed to a hub, are pulled around a set of ball bearings by the
torqued cog. Eighteen inches of rubber wheel crawls forward.
My weight shifts from pedal to pedal, reversing the side-to-side tilt of
the frame. Like a plucked guitar string, the sideways sway of the cycle is
narrowed. Lateral motion is exchanged for speed. Ten yards. One block. One
mile. This specific process repeats itself endlessly. The press and pull of
my legs draw the chain around a disk attached to a set ...
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