Run to Failure

Too much stuff, not enough riding. Stuff like the second job, watching bands play good music, avoiding meatheads, and sleeping.

This morning I was reading an op-ed piece in a trade journal discussing our deteriorating infrastructure, sewer and water systems in specific. Interesting stuff, I suppose, if you wonder (like I get paid to do) where the poop goes, but I noticed something else that is relevant to me outside of work. Here's the quote:

Here’s another thought: Use the reality of deteriorated infrastructure as a rationale for investing in next-generation technologies and designs. There is a concept in asset management called “run to failure,” where it is efficient to stop repairing the old system and eventually to replace it with something new.

I've been thinking about how I'll decide when it's time to replace the singlespeed I've been commuting on for two years. This bicycle has been great and it still is great. But, on the other hand, there are few original parts left on it. Frame, fork, and seatpost. Oh, and stem. Otherwise, all new. I've spent far more on upgrading this thing than it cost way back in 1992 when it was just "my bike." In return, the bike has been safe and reliable for years. It gets me to work in any weather. It gets me home from the bar regardless of my ability to pilot it. This means that despite my best intentions, I have invested a degree of sentimental feeling in this assemblage of steel tubes.

Now the fork has a small crack in it. I'm not worried, the crack is in the very bottom of the steering tube. There is deterioration around the mounting hardware for the fender. I don't think the fork is going to suddenly fail but I have started thinking about what to do next. New fork? New bike? At what point is it time to thank the bike for its years of service and move on to a shiny new one? I know I should make this decision prior to the day the fork breaks while I'm bombing down North Main St., but when?

What to do? What's next?

Well, it's time to develop a plan for succession, like what any good despotic ruler or republican President does. Here's mine:

When the day comes that the SST is too scary to ride, I'll retire it. What does this mean, "too scary to ride?" When does that happen? The following things shall trigger bicycle retirement:

• That crack on the fork grows to reach the weld just below the headset crown race. In my non-engineering estimate, a crack in a weld is bad and that's when the catastrophic fork-folding starts to happen.
  
• Obviously, any structural failure on the frame itself. I'm looking at you, drive-side chain stay where the spray-on primer is hiding some good rust...
• Wheel failure. This one really is pretty arbitrary because wheels are easy to replace. But, on the other hand, this bike really isn't ideal for what I'm using it for anyway. The 26-inch wheel size is one of the biggest limitations of this rig. A proper city bike ought to run 700c's...
  
• Maybe, just maybe, when my chainring/cog combo wears out. This one's also arbitrary since drivetrain parts are consumables. But, since it's running all steel parts right now, this particular one is a ways off. I'll be able to flip everything over and run it for about another hundred years with a new chain when the time comes. I'll expect one of the other triggers to happen in the meantime.
  

What shall I do when the day of reckoning comes? Well, ideally I'll figure it out 6-8 months ahead of time so I can order a new road bike from Circle A Cycles and I shall convert my current road rig to commuting duty. The cycle shall begin anew. I might just enjoy having some gears. Or not, we'll see.

So, did you see how I just used the eventual deterioration of my trusty commuter rig to make it ok to lay out a couple grand for a new road rig? Awesome. It'll be like getting two new bikes instead of one. A "new to this use" commuter rig (Wow, look how much faster I can go!) and a spanking new, hand-built, lugged steel, road bike.