I just got off the phone with my sister. She accompanied a married couple who are dear friends from out east to Duluth, MN where they hit the bike trails and saw all the sights. Heather knows very little about Rivendell, but is tolerant of my enthusiasm for all things Grant and Co. When she told me this story we laughed until our sides hurt and I knew I had to retell it to a sympathetic audience. Now, here is the DISCLAIMER: Some of you like racy, skinny, lightweight bikes. Some of you appreciate the roadie life. Some of you are partial to drop bars and clipless pedals. And that’s lovely, and we are among friends here, but I’m about to poke fun of all those things. I don’t mean to offend, but I do so love to laugh, so I hope you will forgive me for being offensive this one time, and just giggle with me for a bit. If you are feeling gracious, and you like a little satire in your life, please do read on! If not, stop HERE...
It was the first morning, and the plan was to hit the bike trails early and see some historic sights in the city. Heather dressed in a breezy, colorful, summery outfit, and bounded downstairs to the lobby. Christine and Dan arrived, looked at Heather, disbelieving and said, “Is that what you’re wearing?!” Heather looked back at them, eyes roving over their unusual outfits. They were covered in colorful, skin-tight lycra. They donned shorts that were oddly padded and somewhat profane, as their crotches were accentuated and bulging. Their shoes were weird, and made sharp clicks on the tile with every step. “Is that what YOU’RE wearing?!” Heather gasped. Ah, but they are good friends, so everyone shrugged and headed out the door. They made their way to their bikes, where they were about to have their next mutual shock. Heather has a lovely red Biria, bedecked with racks and a basket and capped with a nice, wide saddle. Hers are romantic, swept-back handlebars, and her tires are smartly covered with fenders. She has chosen this bike because she has commuted downtown for years in several cities and these attributes of the bike are the ones that make sense to her. She has never read Grant’s book. She doesn’t care about online forums or bike literature. She arrived at these conclusions because she knows that they work. Thus, when she looked over at her friends’ carbon racing machines, she couldn’t help but gawk. Dan’s bike is a 20 year old carbon machine, and Christine’s carbon bike was purchased in October. No fenders. No racks (Dan had a giant backpack he was carrying like a pack mule, and the day was a sweltering one.). Christine and Dan mounted their bikes and suddenly their feet were glued to their pedals. What fresh horror was this? My sister kept staring at this couple struggling to release their feet from these traps at every intersection and stop. Christine was less skilled at this, and at one of their stops she tipped over, padded shorts and all. “Why do you use those?” Heather asked incredulously, pointing to the pedals. “Oh, these REALLY help with efficiency,” explained Dan, as Christine scraped herself off the pavement. They reached their first destination. There was a lovely waterfall to appreciate, so they dismounted and made their way to it. Clickety-clack, clickety-clack went the Efficiency Shoes on the boardwalk. The rest of the afternoon was much like that, and 25 miles later, so ended the first day. The next morning found the couple dithering about what to wear. They were going out for a nice lunch and to visit a local museum, and the couple was in a quandary about their clothes. They were biking so they needed “bike clothes.” But they were also planning to do fun, touristy things, so they needed “normal clothes.” They didn’t want to wear the clickety-clacks, but their pedals called for it. “I don’t know if I can ride my bike without my padded shorts,” said Christine. They compromised. They put on normal clothing with their clickety-clacks. Then they stuffed extra shoes into Dan’s large backpack. They pedaled off, crotches on fire, Dan sweating under the weight strapped to his back. “Why do you have that bike seat if it hurts to ride it?” asked Heather, genuinely curious. “Oh, well, I probably save 5 grams using this one!” crowed Dan, “And you may not think that sounds like much, but a few grams here and a few grams there really adds up!” They continued on, where their way was impeded by several puddles. Heather lifted her legs up and sailed gleefully through the water, outfit intact and free of mud. Oddly, she was alone. She looked back and saw her friends, who had come almost to a halt, negotiating their way around the puddles. “Do fenders add weight too?” Heather asked. “Yes,” they said. “And we don’t really ride around puddles anyway, so we never need them.” After they got to the museum, they locked their bikes up. Broad daylight, to a bike rack, they with cable locks and Heather with a U-lock. When they returned, an employee was wheeling Dan’s bike away from the rack, it’s cable lock cut and dangling uselessly from the frame. “Hey, that’s my bike!” Dan called to the employee. The employee had noticed the cable was cut, and being rather astute, she chose to take the bike to safety and was heading inside with it. Relieved, Dan took possession of his bike, which was about when Christine noticed that hers was nowhere in sight. Poor Christine was not so lucky that day. Some dirty rotten thief made off with her new bike, and even if it is The Most Disappointing Bike, (and not TBBITW) it’s tragic to lose it. There is something raw and personal about having something stolen from you. My hopeful mind prompts me that this is the opportunity to slide in a good word for Rivendell, now that Christine is in the market for a new bike. I should get her phone number. It’s probably too soon….yeah, it’s definitely too soon. As we laughed about poor Christine and Dan (though NOT about the stolen bike), Heather marveled, “I have never ridden with anyone who had a race bike. I just can’t fathom having a bike that does only one thing. I mean, why? They can’t even wear normal clothes! They are in pain every time they mount those skimpy saddles and for what? Are we in the Tour de Minnesota? Are we saving a whole 30 seconds by leaving off our fenders and wearing the clickety-clacks??? And why the rush? I would never bike if that's what I had to go through.” Of course we’ve all read Just Ride, and we’re got Rivendells because we subscribe to these theories, but it was rejuvenating to see the velosophy worked out in real life. Heather's husband (also a recent victim of bike theft) had his first real Rivendell, a 59 Clem L delivered to their local bike shop for assembly today. He wasn’t a Rivendell fan either, but they were the lone makers of a step-through in his size, so he gave them the money. I think they are going to appreciate it even more after this. Now that you've let me have this one indulgence, please forgive me and have a lovely evening. Leah Owner of The Best Bike In the World (TBBITW) -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "RBW Owners Bunch" group. To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to rbw-owners-bunch+unsubscr...@googlegroups.com. 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