La Vida Vélo

I never meant to own an ‘86 Fuji. In 1986 I didn’t even own a bike. I didn’t know anything about bikes. Like many of us I left bicycles back in childhood, thinking of them as mere toys. In my case, most of the childhood bikes had been cobbled together from junk, collected at the local auction held periodically by the police to clear out their storage space. Rust was all that held most of them together. We favored Stingray-ish models with ape hangers, banana seats and sissy bars. Cards were mounted on the forks or seat stays so as to emulate the sound of a throaty unmuffled motor (or so we thought). We hardly ever actually rode the things. Mostly we idled around the courtyard practicing wheelies, skids and jumps. Our image of bikes came from a combination of Evel Knievel  and Easy Rider. What we dreamed of was motorcycles and more or less as soon as we could get them we dumped the bicycles unceremoniously like yesterday’s newspaper.

Mountain bikes came along and hybrids and somewhere in my adulthood a Specialized Crossroads showed up. A TIG-welded Cromoly frame with low gearing and a comfortable upright position. At first just to amble around the neighborhood as I pretended to “get in shape” but then later, during a long stretch of time in which I have nothing really better to do, the rides started getting longer and more frequent. I very slowly found myself wearing lycra shorts with chamois and spending hours studying maps of the rural roads nearby. Then Lance came along and like so many of my generation I had to have a road bike. At the time TIG-welded aluminum held the sweet spot for mid-range racing style bikes and I still have and love my Trek 2000 with its forgiving gearing and dependable Shimano 105 shifters. 

The years rolled by and slowly I became obsessed with bicycles. In addition to actually riding them I became a passionate fan of the sport. Though not a racer myself I never miss an opportunity to watch all the action from Europe I can squeeze out of my cable subscription and I try to get to most of the big races in my immediate vicinity. And I started to read every book and magazine I could get about bikes. I became, and remain one of those interminable bike people, excelled in tediousness only by hemp advocates and martial arts movie fans. And of course the madness culminated in the purchase of a ludicrously expensive carbon fiber trophy bike, hand-made in Waterloo, Wisconsin.  Oh brother. I had it bad.   

But just as I had gradually become engulfed in Euro race culture over time, I have since begun a transition to a more practical; you might say a more sensible, approach to cycling. I have begun to wean myself from the influence of the magazines with their advertisements and annual Why You Need a New Bike articles. I have tried to stop feeling anxiety when the skinny kid with the shaved legs blows by me. I have resolved to obey the laws when practicable (which is not always the case!) and to ride safely rather than in the barnstorming style of yesteryear. Perhaps most importantly, I have given up caring about my stats. I still set goals for the number of miles I ride in a given calendar year, in order to motivate me when I would rather lie on the sofa watching television. But I have stopped worrying about average MPH, high speeds and all that nonsense.

I still love to watch racing, and still think Jens Voigt rocks; I still love to get spandexed up and indulge my inner racer but I no longer fantasize that every ride is a chance to improve my times. I no longer believe in “junk” miles. I try to enjoy being on a bike just for fun; running down to the farmers market on the weekend or just around the neighborhood to blow the stink off me. And that's where the Fuji comes in.

As I've read and thought more about what is really important to me I have concluded that what I long for is real, lasting value in life. Real long-term relationships, deep interactions with art and culture, daily contact with well made, durable items crafted with pride for lasting utility and beauty. And nothing really symbolizes that longing for permanence, for dependability like a bike that has been around for 26 years. So, off to Craigslist I went and in fairly short order found a very typical Bike Boom bike for a very reasonable price.   

Maybe I have just been co-opted by the new fashion, simply replacing the old. Maybe I’m just preparing for early retirement to the bikey utopia that is Portland, Oregon.Whatever the case, I seem to be enjoying the ride more than ever, looking forward to the day, hopefully in very old age, when my corpse is found lying in a ditch with a smile on my face.