Unsexy Is My New Sexy.
I was looking at numbers the other day in a casual way, not looking for trends or performance indicators- there aren't any. Rather, I was idly mining for random trivia when I came across an interesting data point:
I rode the titanium bike more than any of the other six road bikes I had in rotation. It wasn't a small difference in usage, either. The ti bike just got ridden a crap-ton more (that's a unit of measurement used by scientific-types). A lot of this can be attributed to the number of miles I rode in Mississippi, when the ti bike was the only ride at my disposal and I had no shortage of free time to explore armadillo road kill-strewn roads. However, once I got back on the Anchorage roads in the spring, the trend continued.
A lot of it has to do with the ti bike's perceived durability. I could abuse it, wait until a thick layer of road grime crusted the down tube, then run a hose over it, give it a light scrub, and it would look good as new. As long as the drivetrain was looked after, the rest was easy. It was just easier to rely on for after-work rides, because it was well-suited to pretty much any conditions.
Sure, when I was intent on going out and "training", which I do once a year whether I need it or not, I'd reach for a nice, carbon fiber bike. When I was racing, a specific carbon ride for each discipline was called into action. Those bikes are a lot of fun to ride, responsive, and help me somewhat mask the fading capabilities of a rapidly failing body. They're also a pain to clean. The paint shows dirt before I even get out of the driveway. Scratches, no matter how superficial, advertise my unworthiness to the world.
I remember when I got my "plastic bike", how its swoopy lines that metal could never replicate were like carbon fiber sex. After my first aluminum and steel framed bikes, it was exotic and looked like it could propel me to new levels. In some cases, it did. Sometimes looking fast makes you push harder to actually be fast(er), to make reality match the start-line illusion.
Now I just want a bike that will work with a minimum of fuss. I long ago realized that the miniscule, marginal gains afforded by superbikes were dwarfed by the gains I could make by not having that fourth doughnut. The amount of potential I have that can be realized by years of dedicated training barely justifies a mid-level bike. I just need a solid, purposeful bike with reasonable performance to have fun on 99% of my rides. The ti bike meets that requirement. With a minimum of maintenance, it shows up for work, ready to carry my fat rolls down the road.
Does that mean I'm going to sell all of my "fancy" carbon fiber bikes and ride only the bicycle equivalent of "mom jeans"? Nope. Each bike still has its place. When the sun is shining, the mood strikes, or on race-day, I'm still grabbing a fistful of plastic. However, when it isn't so perfect and start line image is less important, the ti bike will likely get the call.
Functional is my new sexy.
I rode the titanium bike more than any of the other six road bikes I had in rotation. It wasn't a small difference in usage, either. The ti bike just got ridden a crap-ton more (that's a unit of measurement used by scientific-types). A lot of this can be attributed to the number of miles I rode in Mississippi, when the ti bike was the only ride at my disposal and I had no shortage of free time to explore armadillo road kill-strewn roads. However, once I got back on the Anchorage roads in the spring, the trend continued.
A lot of it has to do with the ti bike's perceived durability. I could abuse it, wait until a thick layer of road grime crusted the down tube, then run a hose over it, give it a light scrub, and it would look good as new. As long as the drivetrain was looked after, the rest was easy. It was just easier to rely on for after-work rides, because it was well-suited to pretty much any conditions.
Sure, when I was intent on going out and "training", which I do once a year whether I need it or not, I'd reach for a nice, carbon fiber bike. When I was racing, a specific carbon ride for each discipline was called into action. Those bikes are a lot of fun to ride, responsive, and help me somewhat mask the fading capabilities of a rapidly failing body. They're also a pain to clean. The paint shows dirt before I even get out of the driveway. Scratches, no matter how superficial, advertise my unworthiness to the world.
I remember when I got my "plastic bike", how its swoopy lines that metal could never replicate were like carbon fiber sex. After my first aluminum and steel framed bikes, it was exotic and looked like it could propel me to new levels. In some cases, it did. Sometimes looking fast makes you push harder to actually be fast(er), to make reality match the start-line illusion.
Now I just want a bike that will work with a minimum of fuss. I long ago realized that the miniscule, marginal gains afforded by superbikes were dwarfed by the gains I could make by not having that fourth doughnut. The amount of potential I have that can be realized by years of dedicated training barely justifies a mid-level bike. I just need a solid, purposeful bike with reasonable performance to have fun on 99% of my rides. The ti bike meets that requirement. With a minimum of maintenance, it shows up for work, ready to carry my fat rolls down the road.
Does that mean I'm going to sell all of my "fancy" carbon fiber bikes and ride only the bicycle equivalent of "mom jeans"? Nope. Each bike still has its place. When the sun is shining, the mood strikes, or on race-day, I'm still grabbing a fistful of plastic. However, when it isn't so perfect and start line image is less important, the ti bike will likely get the call.
Functional is my new sexy.
Comments
Post a Comment