The Drowning of Jeff Buckley

A lot of people assume incorrectly that Jeff Buckley drowned in the Mississippi River.  That's actually not true.  It was the Wolf River, just upstream from the Mississippi in Memphis, where Buckley and his roadie stopped alongside the interstate at a rest area, stepped over the guardrail, and walked down to the banks of the Wolf for a swim.  It was hot, and there wasn't much to do - the rest of the band was behind, still in Boston, on their way to Memphis soon enough, but they weren't there yet.  Buckley, fully clothed and with his boots on, had gone swimming in this same spot a few times before.  It was hot, 90+ for the third day in a row, May 29th, 1997.  Jeff Buckley was singing the chorus to Zeppelin's "Whole Lotta Love" and he was stone sober.

In he went.

As human beings, we are mostly bound by the limitations of gravity, but not entirely.  There are a few circumstances when we are not.  Swimming is one of those.  The buoyancy that the human body can achieve in water, floating, is a huge part of what makes the experience profound.

Road riding is a lot like swimming in this same way.  In both cases, the sensation that you experience relates directly to buoyancy, and you can't find it doing anything else.  Floating, as a rule, is not something a human being is capable of but in water.  The same, too, for propelling yourself along at 50 miles/hour with only your legs and a couple of wheels.  Going downhill at top speed on a bike, like floating on your back on a summer day, is sensational.

Walking on the ice of a frozen lake.
Skydiving.
Outer space.
We are able to remove our souls, momentarily, from the confines of our own bodies.  But gravity is still there, lurking.


When I lived out West, my roommate, Chris, bought a Ninja JXR-1000.  As far as road specific motorcycles go, it was the fast one.  This was 2005 or so.  Chris was ex-military, and he kept most of his experiences from his time in the Middle-East classified, locked up in secure room in the back of his brain.  Most Friday nights, Chris and his buddies went out riding.  Crotch rockets, I recognized, were a pure form of escape.

Then one night Chris came home, ghostly pale but unharmed, and he went to bed without a word.  The next day he sold his motorcycle.  Like combat, he never really talked about what happened to him that Friday night.  The speed at which life comes at you when you're going 150 mph is faster than he expected, I guess.  But he did say something profound, "Human beings, man.  We aren't meant for that."

He is right, of course.  From an evolutionary perspective, escaping gravity is just not what we're built for.  The locals in Memphis, they do not swim in the Mississippi.  They've learned to fear it, over time, generation upon generation of stories of people who have drowned.  The river there is full of snags, strainers, hazards below the surface, and the wake of passing boats creates unpredictable currents that are stronger than you think.

So, too, does our generation of cyclist pass along cautionary tales.  Don't ride Earlysville road after 4 PM.  Don't ride Old Ballard if it rains.  Don't ride 20 South...ever.  Hell, don't even DRIVE 20 South.  We are adapting, as mammals tend to do, to the timing and structure of the dangerous environment around us.



You might not have noticed, but mountain bikes are now trending this way.  Not unlike Chris's motorcycle, the speed at which the modern mountain bike is capable of going downhill has begun to exceed our ability to pilot it.  Not that they don't ride amazingly well - these bikes are miracles.  Modern geometry, long travel 29ers are easy to turn, a pure joy to ride, and they will run over almost anything.
Until they don't.
It's when these marvels of engineering suddenly stop that you've got a problem, because thanks to carbon fiber, DW-link suspension, and your 9-tooth cog, you're now going way, way faster than you think.

Jeff Buckley's body was found on June 4th, floating downstream in the Mississippi.  A toxicology report showed no drugs or alcohol in his system.  He was sober, thoughtful, happy, and just about to enter the best years of his life.

The rest of us, we are left with gravity.
We abide by its expectations, for the most part.  But our need for escape is strong, too, maybe stronger than ever - and not riding at this point just doesn't feel like an option.

Taillights, people - every damn time.
Bleed your brakes.
Consider one of those MIPS helmets.

The pursuit of zero gravity always, always ends abruptly.

Up, up, up.