I think Lance had it right: It's not about the bike.
I originally bought my road bike used because I had never owned one and wanted to test one out inexpensively. The best $175 I have ever spent...five years ago. I am still riding the slightly bent, kinda rusted Specialized to and from work, up and down hills and now from Portland to San Diego.
"Wow, that's been around the block," is probably the most common comment made about my bike. Soon, I'll correct judgement passers, "Actually, it's been around the West Coast."
As we prepare for our tour, we made a list of gear we needed. New mountain biking shoes, a new seat, long sleeve shirts, extra shorts, bags here and bags there, GPS, iphones, maps, books, cool folding camping stoves. Stuff, things, junk. More, better, newer. But what for? What's the point of buying a new fancy polyfakeablesythetic jersey, when I have an old wool sweater just waiting for its second chance of life. And do I really need GPS? Are small town shop owners and happy-go-lucky tourists so put out that they can't help with directions if I get lost...traveling south.
I do need a new set of gears, however, so that I can pedal just a teensy bit easier. When I arrived at Mission Hills Bike Shop to talk with Erin about my order, I mentioned I'd like a new seat too, as my five-year-old doozy is tearing apart. "Why?" he asked. "This one is perfectly worn in to fit your butt. You buy a new one, you mess that up." Right...it doesn't have to look perfect, to feel perfect. Perfection afterall, takes time.
And so when people ask me, what does it take to commute by bike. I always say, "A willingness to have fun and a cheap bike with two working wheels." All the rest is just stuff.
I originally bought my road bike used because I had never owned one and wanted to test one out inexpensively. The best $175 I have ever spent...five years ago. I am still riding the slightly bent, kinda rusted Specialized to and from work, up and down hills and now from Portland to San Diego.
"Wow, that's been around the block," is probably the most common comment made about my bike. Soon, I'll correct judgement passers, "Actually, it's been around the West Coast."
As we prepare for our tour, we made a list of gear we needed. New mountain biking shoes, a new seat, long sleeve shirts, extra shorts, bags here and bags there, GPS, iphones, maps, books, cool folding camping stoves. Stuff, things, junk. More, better, newer. But what for? What's the point of buying a new fancy polyfakeablesythetic jersey, when I have an old wool sweater just waiting for its second chance of life. And do I really need GPS? Are small town shop owners and happy-go-lucky tourists so put out that they can't help with directions if I get lost...traveling south.
I do need a new set of gears, however, so that I can pedal just a teensy bit easier. When I arrived at Mission Hills Bike Shop to talk with Erin about my order, I mentioned I'd like a new seat too, as my five-year-old doozy is tearing apart. "Why?" he asked. "This one is perfectly worn in to fit your butt. You buy a new one, you mess that up." Right...it doesn't have to look perfect, to feel perfect. Perfection afterall, takes time.
And so when people ask me, what does it take to commute by bike. I always say, "A willingness to have fun and a cheap bike with two working wheels." All the rest is just stuff.
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