The last time I up and left Flagstaff “For Good” was in 2008. During my last night in town, this happened thanks to THE SHINDAGGERS.
Sometime next week, I will be leaving Flagstaff “FOR GOOD” again to head to Colorado Springs. That means my life is currently in boxes and my bikes are for sale. Well, just one bike, and it’s for more than one reason:
So far I’ve had no luck selling this steed, which is crazy because it’s a sick ride that I would otherwise take with me, but my back (and my wife) say get rid of it and buy a squish bike. Selling bikes always conjures up memories of bikes past, and how I always regret selling them. Take, for instance, this guy:
Or how about this monster:
I don’t so much miss this one as I missed the opportunity to replace it with another squisher:
Then there’s the crown jewel, my college ride:
And who can forget the one that got away:
There are several more, but I won’t waste your time with more glamour shots of my past bicycles.
Flagstaff is, if nothing else, a microcosm of bike dorkdom. I’ve owned more bikes in my six years here than I’ve owned pairs of underwear. I ride, I fall down, I ride more, I wrench on bike, I ride more, I break bike, I ride more, and so on. And in between, I go through long phases of just not wanting to ride. Yet as I sit here on my couch, and I see my mountain bike in the kitchen (yes, it’s in the kitchen…why not? The house is a disaster…), I am overcome with an immediate sense of relief just knowing the bike is there.
I’m not stoked on Colorado Springs at the moment, but as long as there’s a bike there, I’ll be fine. So I sell away Flagstaff to upgrade (?) to Colorado Springs. Maybe I’ll regret it, but at least I’ll have the pictures to prove I owned it. Sayonara, Flagville. Keep the hippies in the coffee shops and the tourists out of the streets.