Travis is back with another Dust-Up involving electronic shifting. But this time, the main subject is uniquely organic.

Before Transmission, and before AXS, there was Shimano’s Di2. As soon as it trickled down to Ultegra, I jumped on board. It wasn’t because it shifted better. It wasn’t because it looked cleaner. It was because I could shift with my pinkies. I’ve since gotten rid of that bike, but you can bet its replacement also has electronic shifting. I’m never going back. Although I have acquiesced to using electronic shifters for mountain bikes, I believe they actually make more sense on drop-bar bikes. Because you can shift with your pinkies.

For me, mountain biking is about two things: Going down a hill, and getting back to the top. But when I’m on my drop-bar bike, it’s more about the vibes. Maybe I feel like hammering. Maybe I feel like cruising. Maybe I feel like sinking into an audiobook. Whatever the vibe, I want the bike to disappear. Sure, I’m pedaling, steering, and braking, but those actions are like breathing. They originate deep within my brain stem. Shifting, on the other hand, is slightly more cerebral. Especially if I have to move my hand, bend my wrist, and overcome cable friction. That causes the bike to reappear, and the vibe to fade.

This is well trodden territory in the electronic shifting debate. There’s no way—and no reason—to settle it. For many riders, a shifters’ tactility is a feature, not a bug. Nic Morales wrote a Dust-Up praising the sensation that I have shunned. So, I’m not gonna relitigate the fundamentals here. I’m just gonna talk about pinky-shifting. I remember the first time I did it. I was at the Interbike trade show (RIP), test-riding Di2 at the off-site demo event. I was accelerating while turning left through an uphill intersection, my middle and ring fingers firmly anchored under the hoods. I was used to the disruption of moving those load-bearing fingers to shift. But that day, the novelty of Di2 got me inspired. I probed forward with my pinkies, and found they could reach the paddles. More importantly, they had the strength to actuate them. The pinky is a pretty fascinating thing.

It’s even better with AXS / e-tap, where there’s just one paddle per lever. And each is easier to reach. When I’m in the hoods—which is most of my ride—pinky-shifting has become second nature. My thumb and fingers drape comfortably but firmly around and under the levers, and my pinkies are just a quick 30 mm stretch away from the action. Or, when the rest of my fingers are covering the brake levers on a downhill, I can tuck my pinky behind them for the same effect. Plus, dropping my Reverb AXS seatpost on a red light and then raising it on a green, feels almost like telepathy. It’s become a reflex, involving tiny muscles, tiny bones, and tiny movements. In fact, this whole thing is pretty tiny. Hardly worth writing a Dust-Up about…