Envy.
I stopped to think the other day. This bears noting, because I rarely do this. I often reflect long after bad decisions have irrevocably taken me down the path to ruin, but rarely do I pause to contemplate if the action that I am currently pursuing is the right one. Due to the fact this was a rare occasion, I drew it out and thunk on it real good.
The subject of this flurry of cranial activity was bikes. Huge surprise there. More specifically, it was the recent purchase of the two Moots and the still-unfinished Lynskey. Drilling it down even further, it was "what the hell was I thinking?" At it's root, it boiled down to what exactly motivated all of this.
Let's review. As stated before, I have several bikes. More than a couple. Slightly less than a hectare. I like most of my bikes. Some I like far more than others, but they all have their assigned duties. After years of buying and selling (at a loss) many different bikes from many different manufacturers, I thought I'd settled on a good mix for the stuff I liked to do.
Then I fell down.
Suddenly I lost all motivation to buy bike stuff, which was shocking. Even when I was able to ride again, the old drive to buy one of each didn't return. That may sound like a good thing, but it actually scared the hell out of me. Based on my behavior patterns from decades of wandering from hobby to hobby, the loss of interest in acquiring foreshadowed the end of the pastime. Thing is, I don't want to quit. I want to ride.
When I started casually looking at frames and components, comparing specs and reviews, I gave myself permission to hope. Maybe the dream of that ProTour contract was not dead.
I thought about it some more. Maybe, instead of buying a swoopy carbon machine that could instantly transfer all twenty of my peak watts into forward momentum, I would just buy quality. Instead of being caught up in eye-catching shapes, colors, and logos, I would just buy something that was just built well.
When I stumbled across the Moots Vamoots DR, I was excited for the first time in a long time. Truly excited. It wasn't that it was exactly what I was looking for, but it may turn out to be exactly what I need. I'm going to change a few parts here or there to fit my purposes, but it's pretty much done- and done well.
I was so excited about it that I bought the Moots Compact frame. I got the same hit of excitement, as if I was in the middle of a good book and starting a new chapter. I'm still engaged, and there's a new twist to the game.
So, back to the motivation- am I looking to inspire envy? I really don't think so, because I'm pretty sure at least 50% of the riders I meet have never even heard of Moots. I'm also pretty sure I'm going to remove the decals, leaving the metal head badge as the only indication of who made the bike. I know, and that's what's important. I'll tell you if you ask, in far more detail than you'll ever want to know. Consider yourself forewarned. It's just that I'm still in the honeymoon phase, before I see the imperfections and start taking it for granted like a '60s housewife. Actually, I'll remove the stickers because I prefer the aesthetic. Clean, purposeful, and without fluff. Ok, some fluff.
My bedazzling of the Compact will be more subtle. A little touch here or there. Instead of the FSA headset like on the Russian ti frame, I went with Chris King. Maybe I'll throw a SRAM Red groupset on there, but I think Force will probably work every bit as well. Maybe I'll get some aero carbon bars on there, but it will be more for comfort than for speed. I do love the look of deep-section carbon rims on a round tube bike, but a nice set of aluminum wheels would do the trick. A quality carbon seatpost, because I can't afford a Moots ti seatpost and carbon will be easier to remove periodically for travel. Ever try to unstick a metal seatpost while traveling? It isn't fun.
Other than some odds and ends, all that remains is the fork. My Russian ti sported an Easton EC90 SLX, which worked well enough. However, when I started rocking my fat rolls back and forth in what I call a sprint, it tended to flex a little. I bid on a couple Moots forks, but lost. I really wasn't all that upset. I started looking around for something else, reading reviews and forum posts and generally wasting time at work. Time and time again, the advice came back the same. Eventually I listened and bought what pretty much everyone suggested. The name on the fork?
ENVE.
Sure, it's spendy and perhaps a bit flashy (might tone down the stickers), but I'm not going to put a price tag on enthusiasm. I've missed it. If there's one thing I envy about guys new to a sport, it's enthusiasm. Everything is possible and the world is full of potential. You get better instead of worse. You honestly believe you can still catch that one guy. Reality hasn't settled in and then proceeded to smother you. You don't question whether or not you've taken one fall too many and how that's all going to add up in the future. Nope, the future holds nothing but promise and warm, sun-baked rides for you. Yeah, I'm envious, and I'm going to do my damnedest to wrap myself back up in the delusion.
If only for a little while.
The subject of this flurry of cranial activity was bikes. Huge surprise there. More specifically, it was the recent purchase of the two Moots and the still-unfinished Lynskey. Drilling it down even further, it was "what the hell was I thinking?" At it's root, it boiled down to what exactly motivated all of this.
Let's review. As stated before, I have several bikes. More than a couple. Slightly less than a hectare. I like most of my bikes. Some I like far more than others, but they all have their assigned duties. After years of buying and selling (at a loss) many different bikes from many different manufacturers, I thought I'd settled on a good mix for the stuff I liked to do.
Then I fell down.
Suddenly I lost all motivation to buy bike stuff, which was shocking. Even when I was able to ride again, the old drive to buy one of each didn't return. That may sound like a good thing, but it actually scared the hell out of me. Based on my behavior patterns from decades of wandering from hobby to hobby, the loss of interest in acquiring foreshadowed the end of the pastime. Thing is, I don't want to quit. I want to ride.
When I started casually looking at frames and components, comparing specs and reviews, I gave myself permission to hope. Maybe the dream of that ProTour contract was not dead.
I thought about it some more. Maybe, instead of buying a swoopy carbon machine that could instantly transfer all twenty of my peak watts into forward momentum, I would just buy quality. Instead of being caught up in eye-catching shapes, colors, and logos, I would just buy something that was just built well.
When I stumbled across the Moots Vamoots DR, I was excited for the first time in a long time. Truly excited. It wasn't that it was exactly what I was looking for, but it may turn out to be exactly what I need. I'm going to change a few parts here or there to fit my purposes, but it's pretty much done- and done well.
I was so excited about it that I bought the Moots Compact frame. I got the same hit of excitement, as if I was in the middle of a good book and starting a new chapter. I'm still engaged, and there's a new twist to the game.
So, back to the motivation- am I looking to inspire envy? I really don't think so, because I'm pretty sure at least 50% of the riders I meet have never even heard of Moots. I'm also pretty sure I'm going to remove the decals, leaving the metal head badge as the only indication of who made the bike. I know, and that's what's important. I'll tell you if you ask, in far more detail than you'll ever want to know. Consider yourself forewarned. It's just that I'm still in the honeymoon phase, before I see the imperfections and start taking it for granted like a '60s housewife. Actually, I'll remove the stickers because I prefer the aesthetic. Clean, purposeful, and without fluff. Ok, some fluff.
My bedazzling of the Compact will be more subtle. A little touch here or there. Instead of the FSA headset like on the Russian ti frame, I went with Chris King. Maybe I'll throw a SRAM Red groupset on there, but I think Force will probably work every bit as well. Maybe I'll get some aero carbon bars on there, but it will be more for comfort than for speed. I do love the look of deep-section carbon rims on a round tube bike, but a nice set of aluminum wheels would do the trick. A quality carbon seatpost, because I can't afford a Moots ti seatpost and carbon will be easier to remove periodically for travel. Ever try to unstick a metal seatpost while traveling? It isn't fun.
Other than some odds and ends, all that remains is the fork. My Russian ti sported an Easton EC90 SLX, which worked well enough. However, when I started rocking my fat rolls back and forth in what I call a sprint, it tended to flex a little. I bid on a couple Moots forks, but lost. I really wasn't all that upset. I started looking around for something else, reading reviews and forum posts and generally wasting time at work. Time and time again, the advice came back the same. Eventually I listened and bought what pretty much everyone suggested. The name on the fork?
ENVE.
Sure, it's spendy and perhaps a bit flashy (might tone down the stickers), but I'm not going to put a price tag on enthusiasm. I've missed it. If there's one thing I envy about guys new to a sport, it's enthusiasm. Everything is possible and the world is full of potential. You get better instead of worse. You honestly believe you can still catch that one guy. Reality hasn't settled in and then proceeded to smother you. You don't question whether or not you've taken one fall too many and how that's all going to add up in the future. Nope, the future holds nothing but promise and warm, sun-baked rides for you. Yeah, I'm envious, and I'm going to do my damnedest to wrap myself back up in the delusion.
If only for a little while.
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