This has all been said before, so you can stop reading right now. No, really you can stop... because I have said it once, twice, three times a lady. This thing, this tool, this toy that has many names. The bi-wheeled contraption. What ever it is to you, it is a very important part of my life. I rediscovered the bicycle 14 years ago this month. The snow was melting on the Wasatch and I heard of a Texan that was racing bikes in a place called Tour de, or something like that. I swore off spandex and decided that the fat tires were just the thing for me. I loved to snowboard on the mountains, might as well put some rubber down on them.
Fast forward a few years and the bike moved with me to the no-mountains of Oklahoma. I was a big time mountain biker from Utah, what could I possibly learn in OK? Everything. I sacrificed blood and flesh to the "mountain" that we call Turkey. Humble pie is not a tasty thing. I was schooled every time knobby touched rock and root. Don't get me wrong, I am not what I would consider a "good" rider, but I do have fun and I acquired the skills to do what makes me happy. In my book that is all that maters, anything else and you are way to serious. Have fun.
The problem with addiction is that you reach a point and you have to have more, and once you get more, you need more. And the cycle continues. [no pun] [ok, maybe just a little] I was bummed on the days that it was too wet to ride Turkey and I did not want to ride my mtb on the road. So. Naturally I bought a road bike. Still swore off spandex. Then a funny thing happened. Tulsa Tough. I was already a cycling fan, thanks to Lance, but now I had the chance to see it up close. Close enough to feel the wind of the draft blow by like a gust front. The sound of freewheels on a downhill, the shifting of gears transmitting through a carbon wheel, the zip of hundreds of chains being turned in anger...
I was hooked, even more so than before. Addiction turns into obsession turns into a lifestyle. Admittance is the first step? I'm a sick junkie. Get the Thorazine, find a nice "hug yourself jacket", padded cell for one -please. I look at porn on the internet, yes I will admit it. I go to sites like Colnago.com Cicli Pinarello Dedacciai Ridley etc etc etc. What can I say, I have a problem, and I like Italian sexiness and Belgian prowess. It does pain me so that I do not own a Campy groupo. Oh, to have Italian sexiness firmly in my grasp, with a freehub that speaks "bedroom". Someday.
This is only a few steps above shooting heroin or snorting lines. Eat, sleep, dream. Bikes. I don't have room in my life for anyone who does not think the same way. I surround myself with junkies, I try and convert "regular" people into cycling. If you are crazy and you can get more people to think and act the way you do, the less crazy you look. It's a cult, want to join? Would you like some cool-aid?
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