I’ve been bike riding a lot this Summer, and as I’ve written before, one of the keys to doing that has been dispensing with the need for specialized clothing and gear. For a physically lazy guy like me, the more barriers there are to doing something, the more likely I’ll start to make excuses.

It was funny on a recent ride to come  upon a large group of serious senior (55+) road riders on their very expensive machines, all decked out in Lycra and clip-on shoes. They were taking up the whole bike path, but moving quite slowly, say under 15 kph. Here I was, this fat, bald, quadruply-bypassed geezer in Tilley shorts and flip flops, bobbing and weaving to try to get past them as they rode double-file. At one point I gave up, jumped my mountain-bike off the sidewalk and blew past them on the adjoining road, regaining the path at the head of the pelloton. One of the ladies yelled out: “Well, that’s one way to get ahead”. I must admit to some counter-cultural satisfaction, a nose-snubbing to all the gear, clothing, and discipline. For a few minutes I felt like a kid again.

Until recently, I’ve kept my bikes in my office; a constant reminder of my commitment to get out for at least an hour every day. But recently, my son finally got rid of VW beater #3 from my garage, once again liberating some space for those of us who actually own the property! Like a dog pissing on his territory, I immediately settled two of my bikes into the little space  he has graced us with (there are still two complete motors, a dirt-bike, a transmission, and a complete suspension assembly on the floor, awaiting his next salvage purchase).

My satisfaction at this act of territoriality has been tempered though by the realization that now that the bikes are out of sight…I haven’t ridden in a week! Oh, cruel fate…every “win” comes with a loss.