I wanted to ride, but I had loaned my road bike to someone for a special project that I thought would end sooner than it has. I have two other bikes, but one is a mountain bike and the other is in a state of flux vis-a-vis its rideability. It needs about two hours of my attention, and that is not a quantity that I currently possess given the (entirely reasonable) demands of suburban, American, middle-class existence.
So I found myself standing in the kitchen wondering why I don’t own two road bikes. I used to. I used to have three or four at any one time, but then I got one so good that the others sat dust gathering month after month, and I decided to let them go. They weren’t remarkable. I have no regrets. Except.
I have just reread the preceding paragraphs and laughed at myself for couching this as a dilemma. It’s testament, really, to how good my life is. For the sake of argument, let’s go on with this like we’re solving a problem. Suspension of disbelief isn’t just a courtesy we afford television and movies.
I have a soft spot for old steel frames, but that’s mostly a visual and nostalgic effect. When I’m actually holding one of those frames I normally wonder what plumber stuck them together and why they weigh more than the moped I used to ride into my job in the city.
I wonder if some sort of exotic carbon race machine would excite me enough to be worth acquiring, but that project requires a larger budget than “second bike” probably justifies.
This weeks Group Ride asks…so, a second road bike. What would that look like? How would I do it in right enough a way that the bike would get ridden occasionally? Neo or retro? How many road bikes do you own? Do you ride more than one? What is compelling about your not-primary bikes? Or have you just accrued too many machines by virtue of time and unwillingness to part with them?