I wrote this paper for my Engl 2010 class.
Chain
Searching through the toolbox for my mom’s trusty 5/8”
stainless steel crescent wrench, my ten-year-old hands find that familiar cold
metal tool. The plan of attack formulates in my mind as I grab the next few
tools needed for the job. My little blue Schwinn bicycle’s chain has fallen
off. I have to lie to say that this surprises me. This bike most likely sat on
the shelves of Wal-Mart before its purchase and doesn’t have the longevity
required to keep up with my adventurous self. Between riding down the local
sledding hill in the summer, popping wheelies and hitting makeshift jumps, the
bike has taken a serious beating. Its paint and stickers peel off like glue on your
skin; the tires wear thin due to constant attempts to make the longest skid
marks on the sidewalk, and the handlebars have started to come loose. The chain
doesn’t stay on for longer than a week, as of late.
The task in front of me has become so routine that I
can do it with my eyes closed. Take the bike out to a sunny spot in the
driveway, flip it over so that the handlebars and seat hold it up. Sit down on
the warm concrete, grab the crescent wrench and pliers, and attach them to both
rear axle nuts. Take a big breath of the rubber scented air and push on the
wrench with full force. Move the wheel forward and grab the greasy chain.
Carefully align the spaces in the chain with the teeth on the drive gear,
repeat for the rear gear. Pull the wheel back until the chain becomes taut,
tighten one of the nuts, then the other. Make sure the wheel aligns properly
with the frame. Once completed with all of this tighten the nuts the rest of
the way with all available force to ensure a few more rides before the chain
falls off again.
This tedious work bores me more and more as the months
roll on. I need a new bike, I tell
myself. Maybe someday I’ll get one whose chain doesn’t fall off. We call bikes
without chains broken. No one wants a broken bike.
***
The first chain found use as early
as 225 BC to draw water out of a well (Tsubakimoto). Since then the chain has
found use in hundreds of different applications. It has shown great versatility.
A chain can attach to an anchor holding a two-ton boat steady in the water. It
can hang around a child’s neck bearing a gift from a parent. It can also keep a
vicious dog from attacking. These applications have given society a lot of
experience with this simple object. Over the years the saying “a chain is only
as strong as its weakest link” popularized. Surely because many people
experienced the devastating moment when a chain breaks in a moment of need. A
lot of people rely on chains for many things. The disappointment of a broken
chain gives this phrase a sense of relatability and inherent wisdom. Nobody
likes a broken chain.
Chains find uses everywhere. Car
engines have chains. Metal necklaces and bracelets often use chains to hold
diamonds or other stones. Manufacturing facilities have chains to run their
machines. Life’s most mundane and normal things depend on smaller mundane
things to make them run. Things like chains, gears, electricity, and fire hold
a fundamental role in our society’s function. If all the chains disappeared,
the havoc caused can make anyone appreciate the importance of such a simple
little thing. Cars can’t run without chains. People’s diamond necklaces become
piles of loose stones without chains. Mass transit halts without chains. Mass
production lines come to a standstill without chains. Life as we know it trips
and falls because society needs chains like relationships need love.
***
The saying goes, “measure twice, cut once” when one
works on important projects. A lack of surety in the measurements can cause a
vehicle to not drive safely, a house to stand crooked or a chain to break. The
wisdom of this saying painfully comes into perspective in my home. My parents
don’t talk about how they met. I know the story, though. Their eyes met, they
talked, they fell into something (I hesitate to call it love), and the next
day, engaged. Deciding to create a chain composed of the two of them with the
duty of providing for a family happened quickly. Too quickly. The years pass on
and children come. The hasty chain that they have created has caused them many
problems. It keeps falling off and threatening to break. They take their
creation to a marriage mechanic. He tells them to “Strengthen the links here
and there.” These minor repairs do not
fix the problem. The new pieces only do so much for this high tension, low
strength chain.
I hear screaming again. The high pitched, anger filled
voice that belongs to my mother races down the hallway and pierces my ears.
This does not mark the first time I’ve heard that voice. The next voice to race
down the same hallway belongs to my father. His voice has a much more defensive
tone to it. Having no more than five years of experience under my belt, I can’t
quite make sense of the events unfolding before my eyes. I hear harsh words and
feel deep wounds in the making. I understand so little.
However, I do understand what it means when something
breaks. The something cannot function. It needs repairs or a trip to the
landfill. What they had created didn’t have the strength it needed to survive
the journey. The chain broke. The marriage shattered. The world around my
family fell to pieces. Though I do not know what caused that chain’s demise, I
do know that broken chains make broken bikes.
***
The Oxford English Dictionary defines a chain as “A
connected series of links (of metal or other material) passing through each
other, or otherwise jointed together, so as to move on each other more or less
freely, and thus form a strong but flexible ligament or string” (chain). Its
definition offers a glimpse at the connectivity of life. Each segment of the
chain has another segment attached at either end. This formation’s fragility
makes it prone to failure since each link depends upon the other. How striking
its similarity to our existence.
Each day connects to the one before it and the one
after it. Each moment consists of the next and the previous. At any moment our
lives can come to an end. However, life as a whole forms a never-ending chain
of generations. On an individual scale, though, different parts of our lives
move with different chains. We have our way of getting money chain, our hobby
chain, our family chain, our happiness chain, etc. When those chains break, we often
feel pain and surprise from the sudden halt to our momentum. We find ourselves
wondering whether to fix the broken chain or throw it away. At what point do we
know if something remains worthy of fixing versus in need of scrapping? Can we
say there exists a clear line that we cross, where we tell ourselves, “That was
the last time”? Much like a broken chain on a bike, the choice remains whether
or not to fix it. Knowing that many hours of toil lie in front of the person
deciding to fix it, while many hours of pain lie in front of the other takes
the choice to a more personal level. With either decision causing pain, the
question changes to whether or not the broken object stands worthy of repair.
So we decide. Sometimes others decide for us. Chains break and so do we.
***
The day my motorcycle will
run has to be today, I tell myself while I stand over it. I think about the
broken gear I just replaced and something else that has recently broken. One
month has passed since that Tuesday in mid-August. We ate out that night at the
end of a great day. We went to Café Rio, one of our favorite places to eat. She
didn’t feel well so she spent most our time there in the bathroom. She came
out. I packed up our food and we left. This Tuesday didn’t go like the others
we had spent together. She lay there on the car seat attempting to calm her aching
stomach. I hurt seeing someone for whom I cared so deeply in this much pain.
The hours we had spent together building this chain made her pain mine. I felt
a deep desire to make everything better for her. As I lay near her trying to
stay quiet, she slept. We had started dating almost exactly five months prior.
High school sweethearts they called us.
She woke up and curled into a ball next to me, her favorite
place. Tears and sobs began to leave her body. She said five words during the
next thirty minutes, “I can’t do it.” Do what? I thought about those five
words over and over. What did I do? What
did she do? Is it her family again? I don’t know if I can keep doing this. She
drove me home with a silence so thick the crickets feared to make noise. We
arrived and the crying started again. She assumed her position next to me.
“It’s over,” she said. I felt something snap inside of me while her words
ripped my heart to shreds. It’s over.
The chain broke in front of my eyes. My tears made it hard to see her. Each
painful word we spoke after that ensured that the bike never got fixed. All of
our dreams and plans together shattered like glass in that moment. I left her
car with the broken pieces of our relationship that we had agreed to throw
away. This chain needed to break, according to her.
I bought this broken motorcycle in a moment of
recklessness. My heart and the timing gear had broken so the motorcycle just
needed a replacement gear and I needed healing to get the motorcycle, and my
life, running. I had spent the entire weekend working on it. The learning
curve’s steep slope hadn’t ruined my zeal to finish it quickly. Today marks the
day that I find out if it runs.
The excitement builds as I grip the rubber on the
handlebars and slowly reach for the metal bar that disengages the clutch. I
squeeze the familiar cold bar that hasn’t warmed up in the fall air. The bike’s
resistance to my pushes and pulls makes it clear that I have little control
over it, as I struggle to keep it upright on my own. I have spent hours
working, planning, thinking and dreaming of this moment, just like I had for
another moment that will never happen. My right thumb reaches down as I hold the
bike steady and pushes the bright yellow starter button. The familiar whir of
the starter moving its gears begins. I hear the starting gear colliding with
the crankshaft, getting its teeth aligned so it can begin the necessary motion.
It should be starting now. Nothing. I
try again. Really? Nothing. Come on. I run a diagnostic in my head.
The battery has a charge? Yup. The wires have connections? Yup. The tank has
fuel? Yes. I tighten my grip as the stress mounts. I push the yellow button
more forcefully this time. Then it happens. Pop. Bang. Clang, clang, clank. I
hear something break this time. Broken chain? Yup. Broken bike? Yup. Broken
heart? Yup. Worthy of repair? Definitely.
