A Tale of Three Bikes

Tristan on his charger

Purely by chance I had the opportunity to ride three different bikes in quick succession this week. The baby dinosaur is at the doctor's getting its appendix removed so I've been forced to get creative when the mountain biking mood strikes. First T Cowie was kind enough to lend me his Stumpy. It was way fun to ride but I've never felt up to the task when I ride Stumpies...I do those burly big-travel bikes a disservice with my timidity and lack of skillz. Plus it was so clearly Tristan's bike: a bit too big, rock-hard suspension, brutal gearing, ass-hatchet saddle, super wide bars. Tough to control, like riding a big stallion when I'm used to my little filly.

Another day Morgan let me use her after-dinner mint, the By:Stickel. My first excursion on a 29er! Climbing Sycamore, all those magazine phrases popped unbidden into my head: "stable through corners", "riding inside the bike", "clambering over obstacles like a rock crawler". But also: "ouch". I don't love hardtails, nope. Simple as that. 

The after-dinner mint in its natural habitat 

Yesterday several of us hit up the quintessential Pisgah singletrack, a short out-and-back on Squirrel. My steed du jour was a Yeti 575 and thanks to Dan it was already set up just right when I hopped on it. And from then on the day only got better.

Oh. My. God. I can't even express the joy of riding that bike. It was a big bike that felt little, it was nimble and squishy and raucous and confidence-inspiring and more than happy to bang its intrepid way over babyheads and root baskets up and down. Oh. My. God. I was beaming at every intersection and plowing effortlessly through tech stuff that usually gives me a pause. Within thirty minutes I was plotting ways to purchase the beauty, and trying somehow to justify such a frivolous move. If I'm not careful it still might happen. I get so damn acquisitive when I hang out at the shop too much. I've constructed my armor of "why nots" to protect myself from the Yeti: I don't believe in having a stable full of mountain bikes because, you know, run what ya brung. I really don't like climbing slowly. I don't like bikes that cater to my weaknesses; I want to improve my descending the honest way, instead of just getting a bike that encourages sloppy (albeit wickedly fun) ripping. 

I love you. 

Oh yeah, also, I can't permit myself to lust after a new steed right now because, well, there's a box en route to Brevard even as I type...

Uh oh