Jealousy

A few weeks ago we bought my wife a new commuter bike: a Novara Transfer from REI. Lovely little bike, racks and saddlebags and a light that shines when the front wheel spins. Totally hubba hubba, a who's-that-girl kind of bike. ("I love my bike," she told me last night. "Whenever I see it, I just get so happy." Very romantic.)

She'd been trying to tool around town on her reg'lar ol' mountain bike, but with a laptop, jackets, a lock, whatever, this is a pain is the ass.  She's not really the giant messenger cargo bag type. Neither am I, really -- it fucks with your shoulders. So I was deeply jealous of her and her new machine. Look at it:

I grew up riding bikes -- hopping the curbs on my BMX back in ABQ -- but it wasn't until high school that I got the supercrush. In the summer between my junior and senior years (after I got kicked out for the first of three times) I went on a cross-country bike tour from D.C. to Seattle, 3,000 miles, 47 days. Total heaven. I was with a group of about a hundred kids, from everywhere: Russia, Japan, Zanesville Ohio. We had six vans and a UHaul to cart our gear from town to town; we slept on high school gym floors or outside on the soccer field, like we did all across Montana, the sky all Milky Way, all the time, every night, heaven. It was a charity ride, for a group allegedly dedicated to ending world hunger -- not by digging wells in Africa or working for policy changes at the UN or handing out sandwiches, but by telling people about world hunger. Like, giving presentations about it. Raising awareness, I believe this is called.  Total shit; I have no idea what they did with the money except make ugly t-shirts. The group was Youth Ending Hunger; the summer of bike was the Tour de YEH. Yes, the Tour de YAY!, like we were riding with balloons and streamers and clowns painting our faces. Bad cause, excellent summer. I joined as a junior evangelist for YEH (yay!), but I left as a lithe biker, in love with my legs and motion. 

And now I'm in Boulder, where it's gotten really bad: spandex, specialized shoes and a $200 helmet, a road bike a mountain bike a singlespeed mountain bike a cyclocross bike a spare cyclocross bike and now, the Big Dummy. (It's not really so bad -- I sold my spare cross bike just the other day. For money to buy new bike parts.)

[That's me on the left there, after coming in 2nd place in the local short track series. Beat by a 13-year-old.]

I've tried to get off the car kick with these other, more specialized bicycles but, like I said, the main way is a big bag over your shoulder, and how many groceries and laptops and dogs can you really carry in your garish Chrome bag? (yeah, OK. The BD is totally the most specialized bike -- but it's also got the broadest base of specialization: to get all your shit somewhere else. And that puts the others to shame.) (At least in my head, because the damn thing isn't built yet so I haven't ridden it.)

# # #

It rained all damn day yesterday -- like, Portland rain, deepest BC rain. Lovely. This morning, the sun out again, we went for a hike; the views to Summit County were already dusted with snow.

Which is beautiful but bad, because the BD's not done yet (drivetrain, brakes TK), and I deeply need to get some time on the thing before the four foot snows come back to Boulder. 

Whatever, I'll ride it through those -- but I'd still like a little sunshine and trail dust time.