DON'T try and keep up with the Joneses, or in this case the Dicksons/Saints.
The candy cane and I will be celebrating our first anniversary soon. That was my last major bike purchase (except my recent acquisition of a hella awesome SECA. Worth it!) And I hadn't ridden the plucky Epic since the four-cross race in Cali. I'd thrown a leg over a burly dreamy SX and a sparkly new Stumpie, and a case of the I-wannas had got me down. I was hemmin' and hawin' in the shop tonight as newly-anointed gravity rider WD posed in his full face and the Saint got his Epicly expensive bike into perfect S-working condition...so he could sell it...so he could...pursue other interests?
"Wes," sez I, "how much could I sell my bike for? Retired folks like me need more suspension."
He eyed the flaking carbon bar and scratched paint. "Twelve hundred."
Now I daresay my little beaut is worth more to me than that. Emotional cost, you know. Devastating failures and soaring victories and all the mediocre bits in between. So I shrugged my shoulders and complained about money like I always tend to do and set off for a nighttime Long Branch adventure.
And that shut me up.
I am going to ride that bike until she breaks.
I love her so.
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