I’ve been hanging around the bike weirdo lunatic fringe for many years and I always figured I fit in. In summer I’m all pasty white where the jersey and shorts are (no thongs for me). Winter I’m all scarred and bruised from innumerable FDGBs on snow and ice. On any given day there’s a good chance I have a black greasy chain tattoo on my right leg (or both if I’ve been on the tandem). Most of my laundry consists of bike shorts and jerseys.
But lately, there are growing signs that I am no longer worthy of this august group.
I’ve given up all aspirations of riding a fixed gear bike. Not only do I have no desire to ride a fixed gear, I’m starting to find it incomprehensible that anyone does. The only thing that seemed remotely good about them is no exposed moving parts to get clogged up with salt, sand and snow in the winter. But then my old bike I used to ride on my paper route had the same advantage AND you could coast. Of course, there is a large measure of sour grapes here because regardless of whether or not I wanted to ride a fixed gear, the fact is that I couldn’t, for the same reason I can’t cross country ski or do technical mountain biking, total lack of coordination. I’ve developed all sorts of clever ways of achieving FDGBs, I don’t need another one.
I’ve decided that riding in the rain really isn’t all that much fun. Ditto for snow, sleet, and the other New England things. I still get caught in the occasional downpour (if you listened to the weather and didn’t ride when there was a chance of rain you’d never leave the house), but I no longer go out in it. In fact, I’ve started looking forward to rainy days as “days off.”
I’ve started taking car rides, nay soliciting them, to and from bike rides. In the old days, I would gladly ride to the ride when the getting to and from was almost as much mileage as the ride itself. Now if I can cadge a ride, I’m more than happy to do so.
I’ve started to enjoy riding slowly. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m still not ready to throw in with the smell the roses crowd, but I’m starting to think that the gasping for breath, tongue hanging out style of riding I’m used to maybe isn’t quite as much fun as I once thought. Case in point. I was leading an Appalachian Mountain Club ride. I had planned to ride in the front, but as the ride was starting, after asking people about fifteen times to sign the release form, several laggards emerged. Since everyone was chafing at the bit, I decided to let my coleader lead the group out while I dealt with the problem children, so I ended up sweep. At first, I wasn’t sure I could stand the leisurely pace but it was actually, dare I say, enjoyable.
I’m starting to think that short rides are OK. In the old days, I wouldn’t consider donning my bike shorts for less than a 50-ish mile ride. Now, my standard is the Friday night ride which comes in at around 27 miles (which coincidentally is almost exactly my round trip commute). And I have yet shorter routes in the 18 mile range all the way down to the 10 mile Tour de Blake (riding over to drop off checks at Don Blake’s house and back).
So, bye bye bike geeks, hello middle America.
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