I was off work today so unfortunately I wasn’t sticking it to the man, but it was a good ride none the less. After feeling like a small bucket of really stinky shit the last couple daze, and after a 20 minute coughing fit that expelled what combined to be a softball’s worth of phlegm, I took my first deep breath since last Thursday and started the pavement climb to the woods to blow out the pipes and try to exorcise myself of the parasitic virus that decided to squat rent free into my daily life.
Didn’t really take more than two photos, one of which is pictured as the header of this diatribe. What I did not take photos or video of was the the hawk I watched spiraling up and down looking for an afternoon snack. That would have been cool to see and share, but I didn’t think to pull the addiction machine out of my pants so the opportunity was missed. I’m sure you can imagine it. There are far too many Glamour Shots of boring ass bikes all over the wOrld wIde wEb anyway. One more ain’t gunna change shit.
But I digress. While I was chillin’ and enjoying the view, I remembered my old man and I were playing phone tag, and since I wasn’t doing anything other than staring off into space blank of mind, I figured I’d roll the dice and see if he was around.
“What’s up boy?” He calls me boy: half endearing, half keeping me in my place, and half reminding me that he is hobbled with the fresh cyborg knee joint and leading the charge closing in on 28,000 days of living life like I do, and as the rotten apple does not fall far from the tree I am keenly reminded of my future physical health. We catch up and talk shit on each other as well as family members. I tell him about the hawk. He tells me it is dark and cold back east. As we end the chat, he tells me to drive safe. I let him know I am on my bicycle and he asked which one – which I took literally as he was making fun of my addiction.
So I begin to explain it is an adult kid’s bike. I basically describe my coaster klunker, and that out of all my bikes, this one truly makes me feel like a kid more than any of the others. I wasn’t even clad in the fancy pants organically sourced free range branded latest technical gear, apparel, or eyewear. I simply had on cut offs, a long sleeve t-shirt and blasted out Vans, riding a shadow of the bike I had when I was physically a boy.
(stolen from Huffy Bikes Instagram – that is not me)
Once we got off the phone I realized what I had said, and actually meant. It doesn’t matter the bike you are riding, if it makes you happy then it is a good bike.
I smiled like a Cheshire Cat about to get into all manner of fun as I flipped open and closed the seat post quick release to drop the seat, and threw a leg over right onto the pedal to launch the bike down the foot wide bench cut stretching the horizontal length of the steep mountainside. Gravity helpied drive me into the sweeping turn and up the stiff fight to the road where the trail ends into a neighborhood. Every bump, crack, rock, root and rut shot up through the steel fork into the steel frame into the steel bar dampening the edges while telling me everything. Shortly after I was serenaded by the screams pouring with pure passion and pain from deep within the soul of the CB110 in excess of a 35mph pavement descent back to the house, the 34×18 long since spun out on those tiny ass 26ain’tdead tires. Dodging traffic and jumping the curb onto the shoulder where a singletrack path follows the road. A quick bunny hop over a mud puddle then manual off the sidewalk, over the medium and into the final charge through a couple lights ending in a soft pedal to my front door.
You gatta remember kids, all this silly over engineered space age super duper unobtainium carpet fiber platform damped squishy blue tooth shifting dropper paired spoked lightweight high torque long range endurance power race freeride magnesium impregnated qps ant+ downloadable power meter 240,000,000 lumen radar stiffness rated bullshit is just that: Bullshit. You don’t need it to have fun. I promise. All that shit is antiquated anyway.
That there is a full suspension bike. Specifically a 1900 Pierce Shaft Drive Bicycle. I’ve been lucky enough to see one in person, and it is way fucking cooler than anything on the market today. The George N. Pierce Company advertised bicycles starting in 1891 and produced bicycles through 1940, and introduced many firsts for bicycles including spring frames and front forks. And this 28inch wheeled, full suspension, single speed, coaster brake bicycle is 125 years old. And is way less maintenance of anything remotely close that you can buy today, and probably a hell of a lot more fun. Nothing is an innovation, and none of these innovations are needed to fall in love.
So this thanksgiving, give thanks to the bike you are shredding in the way that you define shredding, and instead of watching a stupid football game go the fuck outside and enjoy the absolute hell out of whatever kind of bike ride you have while burning off a handful of the 2000 calories you inhaled plus pie. Ask your family to join you and ride slow. Lower the seat on one of your bikes for a friend who doesn’t have one. Get up early and pump up the tires and lube the chain of that cobweb strewn craigslist score you bought your partner in hopes they can get even a glimmer of the most minute modicum of love for bicycles as you have.
