LoneCactus' Soap Box Moments

Carbon Fiber Lust

"I wouldn't sell my bike for all the money in the world. Not for a hundred million, trillion, billion dollars!"
Pee Wee Herman
Pee Wee's Big Adventure

"He was very sickly until he started riding around on that bike."
"Yeah...well...now his body's fine, but his mind is gone."
Mrs. & Mr. Stoller
Breaking Away

I love bicycles. Although there was a period in my life where there was none to be found, bikes have always seemed to play an important part in my life. I can remember every single bike I have ever owned. They have been markers, land marks in my life. Even the absences are marked by two-wheeled transportation.

The first bicycle I owned wasn't even two wheeled. It was a little red metal tricycle. I remember it as a unsatisfying replacement for that more coveted Big Wheel. I would pedal it around our court all the while wishing that it was one of those sleek plastic sleds. As I graduated from three to two wheels, I remember it sadly rusting in the corner of our side yard. It lay neglected, as I began to grow up.

Next in line was a sparkling blue Schwinn. I was in my early elementary days and my parents gave me this bike. Unfortunately, once again, not quite the cool model. Although it was a Stingray, the really cool versions were the Orange Krate and the Lemon Peeler. These were definitely derivative of the 1969 film Easy Rider. Slicks on the back, chopper-style front wheel, handlebars and fork, the "bitchin'" gear shift on the top tube, I would have been the man riding this!


My elementary years passed and dirt bikes became more in vogue, I bastardized that poor Schwinn into a pseudo-BMX bike. There seemed to be a theme developing at this moment. Although my parents were loving and generous parents, they came up short in the cool category when it came to my personal transportation. Soon after numerous off road adventures, the Schwinn joined the tricycle on the side of our house.

In sixth grade I got my first taste of true speed. I wanted a ten-speed, as all the big kids were riding them. Thus I entered into the Jeunet phase of my bicycling life. An authentic French ten-speed! Thank you Mom and Dad for scoring on this one! On this French green beauty I had my first taste of freedom. With those ten gears I could zoom through out the neighborhood and beyond. Across busy Ygnacio Valley Road I would pedal as the Jeunet would take me to middle school miles away from my home. Sweet freedom.

Suddenly high school hit and it was definitely not cool to ride a bike. It was a teenager's first duty to be cool and fit in (And still is by the way.) Thus, I was bikeless. I traded my bicycle for a 1960's station wagon, lovingly named the Millinium Falcom (yep, I was a Star Wars geek.) I lost all interest in cycling. Youth is definitely wasted on the young! I was no exception to that rule.


When I went away to college a friend of mine suggested that I get a bike so we could cruise around the town of Northridge. Unfortunately, as I was a dirt poor college student, I was only able to get one of those giveaway bikes from a stereo store. Yes, the auto kept sneaking in my life, so I bought a stereo for my car and got a bike with it.

Okay, so the bike may have weighed a hundred pounds and it was more suitable as a couch, but the late nights in the San Fernando Valley pedaling around I will never forget. The warm breeze flowing through my hair as we cruised through the empty streets was magical. Stopping with my friend to look at the stars in the middle of the night, amazing, truly amazing.

A few years after graduating from Cal State Northridge came the yellow Performance "mountain bike". Although heavy and an ultra-beginner model, this was the one. This was the cause of all my two-wheeled addiction. I took a bike off road for the first time in many years and rediscovered a piece of me that had been missing. The freedom, the innocence, the giddiness...it all came rushing back on the first crunch of the dirt under my tires.

Quickly I left the Performance and purchased my first real mountain bike, a Specialized Rockhopper with front suspension! Welcome to the landslide of bikes. The Rockhopper maybe lasted a year and soon I bought my first "racing" bike, an aluminum hardtail GT Zaskar.


At this moment I must pause. This also began the time where I could not just throw my former two-wheeled flames into the rust heap. They began to flourish in other people's possession. I don't think I could bear thinking that my trusty steeds would end up in a junk yard. My Rockhopper became my friend Karen's stationary bike.

After a couple of awesome years on the Zaskar, I moved up to full suspension. My life needed to go boing I suppose. Enter Mr. GT LTS. (The Zaskar was sold as parts to the local bike shop so it could be reincarnated.) Now just about the same time as the entrance of the full suspension LTS, road biking returned into my life. I was submerged into the biking lifestyle and I needed to train when not on my mountain bike. Who the Hell did I think I was?! I don't know, but along came the orange bullet, the LeMond Alpe d'Huez. She seemed so light next to the two-ton LTS. Yeah, the LTS could rip down a rocky mountain trail, but when it came to the pavement the LeMond was a rocket.


After a couple of years bouncing around on my LTS it was time to retire it. As it was replaced by a lighter, newer bike, the Santa Cruz Superlight, the LTS suffered the greatest insult. It became a hand-me-down to Andrea. This was my insidious plot to drag Andrea into my bicycling obsession. It failed. Soon the LTS was collecting dust in the corner of our garage.

Miles and miles of adventures I had on the LeMond and the Santa Cruz. Of the last eight years, seven were spent primarily on my Santa Cruz. Through the joshua trees of the Las Vegas desert, threading the thin trails of the Tahoe basin, climbing the cliffs of Santa Cruz county my mountain bike and I rolled. Rarely did my Lycra covered butt press against the LeMond's saddle. However, as the years passed and time became scarce, I was finding less time to spend pedaling my hours away. Before I knew it, I had owned my road bike for a decade, and yet it was becoming my constant dance partner. Who says you can't mature and be beautiful as well?!

April 2007. Why the endless rant about the bikes in my life? Andrea gave me a new road bike for my birthday. A fabulous carbon fiber beauty. But with this changing of the guard, I realize it's time to say goodbye to another two-wheeled companion. Soon my orange LeMond Alpe d'Huez will be just memories of wonderful miles gone by. My bicycles no longer become scraps on the junk pile, nor are they forced to toodle along a trail filled with seniors and children. Now, sadly they are retired, retired to the rafters of our garage to mingle with the dust and cobwebs.

I will occasionally look up to my bikes hanging from the rafters, remembering wonderful times gone by. These are my bikes, thanks for the memories.

Labels: bicycles, bikes, memories

posted by LoneCactus @ 10:39 AM Comments: 0