The day after a 100km ride isn’t quite a rest day, not for me, and definitely not for my bike. I was a little sore, sure. That kind of distance on a inclined route leaves a mark. But the weather was good enough to be outside, and I stick to a rule: after every 100km, my bike gets cleaned. Whether it was one massive ride or a few strung together, 100km means it’s time to show her a little love.
I rolled her out and set her up on the stand. The setup’s nothing fancy, but it’s still a bit of effort; hose, bucket, brushes, towels, chain lube … the works. I use the Muc-Off Dirt Bucket Kit, and honestly I love it. Everything I need in one place, and it’s seen me through a lot of post-ride rituals.
There wasn’t anything especially gnarly about the dirt this time, just dust, dried sweat, and the usual grease buildup from the drivetrain. Nothing that surprised me after a long day on the saddle. But there’s something satisfying about washing off that wear, seeing the grime slide away and leave behind a bike ready to take on another hundred.
My pup was around, of course. He’s my sidekick. He kept checking in on me … from a distance. He’s not what most people would refer to as “brave” but cautious, especially when I’m moving stuff around (super scary). He came from a loving home before I got him, but it was a small, quiet apartment with some older dogs that were smaller than him and apparently a bit grumpy towards big doofy pups. Big movements and pretty much anything outside still make him a skittish. He’s come a long way, though. If I call him over, he trots up with his whole back end wagging (he doesn’t have a tail). He sticks around until I touch anything that moves, then gives me some space for his own “safety.”
With the dog at a safe distance and headphones in, I got to work.
The frame got rinsed down first. I used the soft brush for the general wipe-down and then switched to the stiffer brush for the drivetrain. There’s a particular kind of satisfaction in seeing the silver of the gears peek through again, especially when you’ve earned every bit of that grime. Chain rings, cassette, derailleur; it all got the full treatment.
Then came the microfiber cloth for drying and detailing. I go straight to the drivetrain while it’s still wet, getting every tooth on the chainring clean, wiping down the cog until it gleams, and then finishing with the chain itself. I dried it until it was spotless and then added a fresh layer of chain lube, my favorite part. There’s something final about re-lubing the chain. Like resetting the odometer mentally and saying, “Let’s go again.”
By that time, most of the bike had air-dried, but I still took a towel and wiped off the last bit of water. The whole process isn’t long, maybe 30–45 minutes tops, but it feels like a full-circle moment after a big ride.
I don’t clean the bike because it looks cool to have a clean bike. I clean it because I use it. The dirt isn’t clutter; it’s evidence. I like seeing my tires wear down because it means I’ve been out there. Every millimeter of rubber left behind is another stretch of road conquered. Every scuff, every chip in the paint—it’s earned.
And when the bike’s finally clean, I don’t immediately tuck it away. I leave it out where I can see it, like art. There’s pride in the ritual. It’s a little bit of a chore, sure, setting everything up, getting your hands dirty again. But it’s also a form of validation. It’s how I make every 100km official.
Even when I travel, I make it happen. I’ve been the guy cleaning his bike in a hotel bathtub many times. I don’t skip it, because I take pride in making my gear(s) last. My other bike, an aluminum frame cannonade I call “Ol’ Blue” is 34 years old. I got it in 2016 for 60 bucks off of Facebook, and it’s still got most of its original parts, minus the regular expendables. I ride it hard, and I take care of it.
This carbon bike is for longer distances and big climbs, not train hops or gravel. It’s the one I lean on when I need performance, and I treat it that way. Every 100km, like clockwork.
If someone were to watch this whole scene, I’d want them to see a few things. First, that I care about my gear not because it may define me, but because it supports what I love. Second, that I take pride in the work, not just the ride, but the after.
I don’t take cycling too seriously. I’m not out here to make it my entire personality. But it’s a big part of my life, and I treat it with the respect it deserves. I don’t clean my bike because I’m obsessive; I clean it because I use it.
And when it’s done, and I’ve got a clean drivetrain, a half-empty glass of bourbon, and a watchful pup sitting nearby, I know I’ve done something right.