TALES: A good idea at the time
I’m driving into work this morning, soaking up the suck from working on my weekly ride day (of course it’s gorgeous today, and it rained Saturday), and a fleeting conversation I had Saturday is haunting me.
It was a conversation that now put my mind back 20-plus years. It put my body back on a used 20” Royce Union 10-speed, legs pumping and fresh air filling my burning lungs someplace between the high mountains of my starting point near Santa Ysabel and my high desert destination of Ocotillo Wells, Calif. I would eventually learn to drive over the dunes in Ocotillo Wells but, for now, I kept my tennis shoes crammed into the toe clips of the yellow piece of Japanese steel between my legs, hoping to space out over the desert and forget the pain in my thighs.
In all honesty, I can’t remember how far I made it past the 20-mile mark. I know we passed Lake Henshaw and the Palomar Observatory, and I know the trees had all but been replaced by cactus and shrubbery.
What I can remember is why I rode, despite rarely ever mounting a road bike: My uncle said, “Why don’t you ride your bike, and we’ll drive behind you?” and it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Last night’s conversation was with a roadie who wanted to start mountain biking. I wanted to tell him that he’d finally start enjoying the ride, but I couldn’t. This is what haunts me!
I can’t name one good reason to step on a road bike other than“it may seem like a good idea at the time.” Yet, I still remember the freedom and peace of what is my longest road trek to date. There must be something good hidden in there somewhere.
Still, it is a pleasure “corrupting” roadies by getting them in the dirt – something that always seems like a good idea.
I’m driving into work this morning, soaking up the suck from working on my weekly ride day (of course it’s gorgeous today, and it rained Saturday), and a fleeting conversation I had Saturday is haunting me.
It was a conversation that now put my mind back 20-plus years. It put my body back on a used 20” Royce Union 10-speed, legs pumping and fresh air filling my burning lungs someplace between the high mountains of my starting point near Santa Ysabel and my high desert destination of Ocotillo Wells, Calif. I would eventually learn to drive over the dunes in Ocotillo Wells but, for now, I kept my tennis shoes crammed into the toe clips of the yellow piece of Japanese steel between my legs, hoping to space out over the desert and forget the pain in my thighs.
In all honesty, I can’t remember how far I made it past the 20-mile mark. I know we passed Lake Henshaw and the Palomar Observatory, and I know the trees had all but been replaced by cactus and shrubbery.
What I can remember is why I rode, despite rarely ever mounting a road bike: My uncle said, “Why don’t you ride your bike, and we’ll drive behind you?” and it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Last night’s conversation was with a roadie who wanted to start mountain biking. I wanted to tell him that he’d finally start enjoying the ride, but I couldn’t. This is what haunts me!
I can’t name one good reason to step on a road bike other than“it may seem like a good idea at the time.” Yet, I still remember the freedom and peace of what is my longest road trek to date. There must be something good hidden in there somewhere.
Still, it is a pleasure “corrupting” roadies by getting them in the dirt – something that always seems like a good idea.
posted by Spider Rider at 1:16 AM
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