Death of the Pintle


For the past year or so, I’ve been riding this half-link chain from KMC called the Pintle Chain. No specific reason for switching to a half-link chain, I just thought it looked cool. Cause, well, it did.

The first Pintle chain I had lasted perfectly for about 11 months. I bashed the hell out of it, rode all over Seattle, Philadelphia, NYC, California and NJ on it, and generally abused it to no end. It held up beautifully, and probably would’ve still if I hadn’t thrown it away. My reason for throwing it away? I thought the Pintle chain had served me well and didn’t wanna risk it breaking. Besides, half-link chains attain a certain amount of lateral swing after they get stretched out a bit. So I simply bought a new one and said farewell to Pintle #1.

Pintle #2 never liked me. After I put it on my bike, it started making a clanking, grinding noise that only went away if I pedaled like I was a cute and fuzzy bunny. (IE- softly) I figured, f-it, it will break in with due time. But that due time was not to be. After Pintle #2’s third break while riding in one week, I threw the damn thing out the window yelling, “What the fuck does pintle mean anyway?”

Well, the joke is on me. I bought a defective chain that’s, you won’t believe this, named after a penis. That’s right, according to Merriam Webster, the dictionary people, “Pintle” in Old English and Middle Low German literally translates into “penis.” I was riding KMC’s dick chain; the first of which stayed hard for a long time, and the second, which blew its load too fast and went to sleep early.

The Viagra to my Pintle chain dilemma: a rusty old no-name chain with a number for a name in my tool bag. No more parts named after dicks for me anymore. I’ve learned my lesson. The boner bars, shlong cranks and tallywacker pegs are all coming off tonight…

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