Riding it. 11/5/2008
So it’s been a while since there was a real post in here from me. I wonder if anyone misses the snarktitude. I’ve been rather distracted of late, with many other things taking priority in my life. The recent worldwide economic meltdown isn’t helping matters any. Even though I’m not directly involved in the financial sector, these kind of things have a follow on effect on the business sector I’m concerned with.
So it’s been a busy time, with effectively zero time for riding. Quite seriously, I haven’t been on anything with 2 wheels for months. Until about a month or so ago. A random conversation with my cousin one afternoon resulted in me buying a mountain bike. A stock standard, off the shelf, very cheap mountain bike.
Here’s another layer for Irondad and other interested readers. In my teens, I was a competitive bicycle road racer. You have to understand this was B.M. (Before Motorcycles), things were very different when I hit sixteen and it was A.M. (After Motorcycles). My idols at the time were Eddy Merck and Bernard Hinault. I read every scrap of information I could on the sport of bicycle racing, took the 10 speed Raliegh racer my dad bought for me and proceeded to upgrade the living daylights out of it, culminating in the purchase of an F.W. Evans racing frame in Reynolds 531 tubing with a mix of Campagnolo and Shimano Dura-Ace components. Which of course meant that the bicycle was now too high strung, too fragile, and too valuable, for me to ride to school with, which was the reason my dad bought me the damn thing in the first place.
I was good enough to earn a regular place on the State junior team, and competed in national tournaments. I was slim as a whippet, weighing something like 140 pounds, and my resting heart rate was 48. I rode 35 - 50 kilometers daily, and 100 mile weekends were the norm, rather than the exception. My dad couldn’t understand why I kept asking him for money to replace tyres, and chains, and chain rings, and sprockets, all of which I went through on a regular basis. My mother once said to me, “I rode my bicycle all through high school without changing the chain once.” I didn’t know how to explain to her that a Regina bicycle chain had a finite lifespan, and once it went, it went, usually with the sprockets and chainrings going shortly after.
And so it went, me spending my early teen years riding a lightweight piece of aluminium tubing and a collection of alloy components all over the roads, until that fateful day when B.M. turned into A.M. The Evans frame was sold to a school mate. I disposed of the various components to other cycling buddies. I regret that now, because I have since found out that 80s vintage racing bicycles (as in proper racing bicycles, not your $50 supermarket specials), are commanding premium prices on E-bay.
I never rode a bicycle again after I started my passion for motorcycles. The fun factor and speed had been multiplied by a factor of 1 thousand, and I didn’t have to be all sweaty and hot at the end of a ride, plus I could now carry a pillion, usually female, with an equal amount of raging hormones. I no longer had to wear tight cycling shorts, or shave my legs and arms. I replaced Lycra with leather, usually black, and with lots of zips.
Until that random conversation with my cousin. He told me he had bought a cheap mountain bike and was was riding the trails through an oil palm plantation near where he lived. I thought this was an idea worth exploring, and hence resulted in me purchasing the afore-mentioned mountain bike. We took a ride that very same afternoon. A friend of his joined us, and the three of us rode down the trail. And stopped about a kilometer later so that I could puke my guts out.
They waited for me to recover, and we proceeded. Until the next kilometer, when we had to stop. So that I could puke my guts out again. I was more than a little upset with myself at this point. I mean, I know I was overweight, I was smoking too much, I was definitely unfit. But to this extent? I was not happy. This was intolerable. My cousin and his friend were patient with me, telling me to take it slowly, that I needed time to rebuild my stamina, and making it clear in no uncertain terms that neither of them were going to give me mouth to mouth and C.P.R. if I decided to keel over on the trail.
We decided to abort the ride, and headed back. As I was riding back, I felt a little better, and had time to concentrate on what I was doing, and the bicycle I was riding. I was not comfortable on it. It didn’t respond. It didn’t accelerate. It didn’t handle. I guess you shouldn’t expect too much from a bike that only cost US$200. Which prompted me to do a little research into bicycles, mountain bikes in particular, and what the sport now entailed.
To say I was amazed would be to put it mildly. To discover that what I thought was a “mountain bike” could now be sub-divided into 7 distinct categories, all calling for specific types of equipment. That road bikes had evolved into road bikes, time trial bikes and triathlon machines. That riding clothes had turned into high fashion, with prices to match. When I was racing bicycles, you had a choice of components between Shimano, 600 series if you were on a budget, Dura Ace if you had some spare cash to spare. And Campagnolo was for rich bastards only. Now, the range of components and accessories is mind boggling. It took me a couple of weeks to get my head round things, and I now have an idea of what works, and what doesn’t.
Which ended up with me getting this.
And I can safely say that this is the most fun I’ve had on something with 2 wheels that didn’t have an engine.
- Posted in : General
- Author : thesnark
Comments»
That reminds me, I never really sat in your living room.
You sat on his lap, in his living room.
Are you going to start shaving your legs soon?
“riding the trails through an oil palm plantation near where he lived”
sounds like somewhere near my whereabouts..
perhaps
Probably just likes the feel of Spandex.
Having a “real” post again is like a drink of water in a parched climate. Keep it going son. After the U.S presidential election results, I may move to Canada.
You called a Rm10k ‘cheap mountain bike’? Geee….
@ NSDS3 : You were in his room then? *raise eye brow*
Hm, our conversation yesterday put me to reminding all the classic road racing bikes that I have owned that probably would a worth a few quid today; Peugeot being my first, then Kogo Miyata. Although I never went (and never will!) go as OTT as you, some interesting memories.
When I lived in Holland, I was a very competent racer (ask Y!) who fully intended to do the Tour De France one day. Only difference - Holland = flat as a pancake. Tour De France = mountains. Plan aborted.
Please, please, PLEASE, stay away from the cafe if you are planning to visit wearing Spandex or Lycra outfits. I have customers who come here to *eat*
Wow! Your floor looks clean
eh, so expensive lah the bike. aren’t mountain bikes supposed to cost about RM500 only??? but…erm, that was the price of one some years back lah….
two wheel no engine, fine with me.
two wheel got engine, no fine with me.
continue cycling, man!
Thanks for the new layer! I’ve missed your iconoclastic viewpoint.
My mother, God bless her, bought me a mountain bike a year and a half ago. Maybe it was a hint. It was not a real expensive model. Anyway, before this summer season I took it in to be “tuned up”. The guy at the bike shop looked down his nose at me as he informed me “We don’t work on department store bikes”.
I asked him if he was as snooty about which ambulance he rides in. Now I can’t go back to that shop. As if I would.
The mountain bike is a lot of fun. At least it was until your post made me feel so inadequate!
wow..a specialized s-works…soon it’ll be a full sus bike… careful..lot of fake specialized out there