Cycling - The Racing Post

Cycle Logic - Bike Lust

By Diana North

Last year I started lobbying for a new bike. By now nearly all the people I ride with know about it and have given their official thumbs up, along with recommendations of bike brands to try and bike shops to visit. However, my non-cycling family and friends are sick of hearing how I deserve a new bike. Most of them say there is nothing wrong with the bikes I already own. I get reminded of the promises I made to get the last one I bought. They are unmoved by the fact that my current bike is a, gulp, nine speed. And now I know that this is what happens when you associate with non-cyclists—you get no sympathy.

I’ve worked hard to contain my increasingly obnoxious case of bike lust. I do my best to hide my roving eye and fickle nature—what would the neighbors say if they knew that a woman with a perfectly good bicycle is trolling for a new, even more expensive one? Secretly, I’ve started hanging out at bike shops while hubby is at work. I caress the titanium and the carbon frames with equal enthusiasm. After all the test rides, brochures, business cards and sale prices…I’m pretty sure people are talking about my fixation behind my back. It’s gotten so bad that I’m learning the names and astrological signs of bike shop owners and ranging into neighboring towns and even the big city on my quest for “the one.”

Logically I know that “it’s the engine” that stokes the machine—and that new bikes don’t make anyone a better cyclist. Not really. Because I’ve seen guys on ugly old no-name bikes blaze off the front of a pack just for the sheer joy of making the rest of us look bad. And I know that a new bike is not going to increase my VO2 max, give me an instant fast-twitch muscle boost or make those mean racer guys slow down. Oh, they might comment on my ride if it costs enough or has stuff on it they don’t own yet. But let’s be realistic—I want a new bike for purely aesthetic and psychological reasons. And therein lies my own special brand of reasoning—I have chosen to believe the fallacy that a new bike will make me ride better, faster, farther and with more satisfaction. Hence, it will solve every cycling problem from lack of motivation to style issues.

The idea of a new bike began early last year when the lovely thought floated through the back of my mind that this might be the year I’d get a new ride. At that point, I was whining and moaning about the weather, stressing about my fitness level and dragging myself to spin classes on days I felt wimpy. I know now that a new bike would have sidetracked me from complaining. In February, Valentines Day seemed like a good time to remind loved ones how wonderful I was and that purchasing a bike for my sweet self was a brilliant idea. Nobody fell for it. Then it was spring and in spite of the fact I’d eaten way too many Panera bagels after sleeping in far too many weekend mornings instead of riding, I managed to keep up on most of the local group rides. Nice surprise. Perhaps a new bike to celebrate?

Summer came, my mileage soared and I ended up having a rip-roaring good time on my old bike—maybe my best rides ever. Then came the guilt. Was this any way to thank my trusty old bike with the sluggish shifters? The very bike I fell for and swore I’d ride until I reached retirement age? Hubby reminded me of my previous bike now hanging upside down and rusting in the garage—a silent steel reminder of my fickle nature. Did I remember how I’d polished it, named it, bought it new wheels? Yeah, yeah.

Then came fall and my birthday—a perfect excuse to ramp up my “I need a new bike” campaign. I started a month in advance by dropping plenty of hints. In fact, I didn’t even mind that I was officially about to turn a whole year older. I mean, who cares how old you are when you’re riding a gorgeous new bike? As the day drew near, I dropped more hints. Sometimes daily. I started questioning complete strangers in the pace line. I called my cycling mentors and e-mailed people I rode with in other states. I became a pain in the butt—all to no avail. When B-day arrived I got the iPod I’d been eyeing, but all I could think was how cool it would be to listen to my tunes while pedaling a brand new bike.

Finally, Christmas was right around the corner and I still hadn’t given up hope. I practiced my sultry version of the “Santa Baby” song, just in case. I told everyone who would listen what a good girl I’d been all year. But the guy in the red suit remained oblivious to my plight. Bah humbug.

It’s a new year and I still want a new bike to match. I think people in the pace line are starting to feel sorry for me. So, I’ve decided to change tactics—now the reason I need a new bike is so it can be a friend and playmate for the old one, rather than a replacement. To the family, I’ve begun hinting that cooking strikes are not unheard of and houses do not clean themselves. Now I’m only talking to people who say, “yes” to every question I ask. Not long ago, after yet another bout of whining that I still don’t have a new bike, a fellow cyclist who had recently shrugged sanity aside and bought the bike of his dreams said it was “easier to apologize than to ask permission.” I’m thinking this person might be my new best friend.