Picture this: it’s 9 PM, a bustling city nightlife in full swing, and I’m weaving my way home through the nighttime buzz of a city alive with energy. Roughly one kilometer into my ride, something felt… off. My rear tire gave that dreaded “bumpy” sensation, a surefire prelude to catastrophe. Moments later, I felt the telltale clunk of a flat tire as I hit a pothole.
Now, for the uninitiated, there are two main types of bicycle tire systems: clinchers and tubeless.
- Clinchers: The OG of bicycle tires. This is the old-fashioned type that most bicycles use. You have an outer tire for protection, an inner tire that holds the air.
- Tubeless: The trendy, high-tech alternative. No inner tube here; the outer tire seals directly to the rim. You pour in a liquid sealant that plugs small punctures on the go. Upsides? Fewer flats and a weight savings of about 40 grams per wheel. Downsides? Read on…
I’ve always been a clincher loyalist, but my new bike came pre-installed with a tubeless system. I wanted to swap it out before buying, but the bike shop staff gave me that look. You know, the “I’m disappointed in you, how can you not want this? All the pros do it!” type of look. So I caved, shelved my prejudice, and decided to give tubeless a go.
I never had a problem with my old clinchers. In the 21,000 kilometers I did with that system, I had exactly one flat. That new system? From the get-go, it was a problem. Right after buying my bicycle, I had to go back because the sealant was leaking out of the front wheel, and after almost being declared crazy, they managed to fix the problem.
So, back to Friday night. I stop to inspect the damage, and oh, what a sight. Latex sealant – the so-called “magic milk” – was everywhere. Oozing out of the rim, dripping all over the pavement, transforming my bike into a gooey, dripping mess. Oh, did I mention I’m allergic to latex? Yeah, I had some good times right there.
Normally, I’d fix a flat on the side of the road, no biggie. But this? This was a whole new level of chaos. Between the sticky mess and my allergy, it just wasn’t happening. Add in the boisterous, alcohol-marinated nightlife crowd, and I had officially reached my limit. I walked my bike back to work, stashed it in the garage, and hopped on the train home.
The next day, I went to the bike shop and committed what some would call a cardinal sin: I switched my tubeless setup back to clinchers. Gasp! Cue the horrified gasps of the cycling purists. But hey, tubeless just isn’t for me. The mess, the maintenance, the allergy risk – no thanks.
This wasn’t my first brush with “cycling sin.” I’m actually a relapsing heretic: A few years ago, after clocking 5,000 kilometers on my old bike, I decided to “level up” and try clipless pedals. All the cool kids were doing it. Every forum and article raved about how they’d improve efficiency and posture. So, I installed them, ready to become a “real” cyclist.
Spoiler: I hated them.
Locking my feet in place gave me localized neuropathy, causing numbness in my second and third toes after ± 100 kilometers of riding, which sometimes tooks days to resolve. Desperate to make it work, I shelled out 300 francs for a professional bike fit. It helped a bit, but the problem never fully went away. Then there were the crashes because I was unable to unclip fast enough. The final straw? Realizing I was avoiding new routes and towns out of fear of not unclipping in time.
So after riding almost 4000 kilometers with clipless pedals, I ripped them off my bike, threw on my trusty $10 flats, and never looked back. And apparently, that puts me in the absolute minority of cyclists who go back to flats after trying clipless.
My first 200-kilometer ride? Flat pedals. Clinchers. No fancy gadgets. If you’re racing the Tour de France, sure, every gram matters, and avoiding flats mid-stage can be a game-changer. Clipless pedals, which let you pull up and push down simultaneously, probably will give you a competitive edge. But me? I’m not a pro, nor do I want to be. I just want to ride my bike as far as I can and enjoy the ride.
And that’s the point of this post. In both cases, I felt pressured to make the “right” choice – where “right” was defined as “what serious cyclists do,” which – lets be honest – is often just copying what the pros do. One of my favorite dead people, Mark Twain, once said, “Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect.” This is not an argument against the majority; in fact, more often than not the majority is right and can be followed safely. This is an arguement against following it blindly and not using critical thinking to identify those moments where the majority actually isn’t right.
Yes, try new things, experiment with technology, gadgets, and routines, but always stay critical—not just of the majority’s opinion, but of your own opinion and convictions too. Don’t blindly follow trends or the crowd. Ask yourself: Do I really enjoy this? Is it serving its purpose, or is it creating more problems? Is it genuinely better for me, or am I just going along with what everyone else is doing? Did I do what was expected because I’m afraid of how people might view me? Your choices should be about what fits your needs, not about what’s popular, looks good or gives you social status/credit.
And if you decide that something isn’t for you, don’t let that shake your self-worth. It’s perfectly fine to go against the grain. You’re not obligated to follow the norm if it doesn’t align with what’s right for you. Trust yourself, and remember, making choices based on your own reasoning is the only way to avoid being stuck in dogma, which is living with the consequences of other people’s thinking.
So, this post is for the clincher-sinners, the two-wheeled rebels, the bicycle anarchists, the flat-pedal heretics who challenge the status quo. For the riders who don’t care about peer pressure or what the pros do. You have my undying respect. Rock your ride. Do what works for you, and keep the rubber side down.