It’s been asked of me, on more than one occasion, if my bike were a woman, what would she be like?
This has come up more than once; I guess a bit of background is in order. I’ve been entertaining a love affair with riding bikes ever since I’ve been young. From the neighborhood races up and down Garrow Drive in Port Moody (I kicked Mike Scott’s ass), to my current passion, downhill racing and freeride, I’ve spent a huge part of my life riding bikes. My first real job was in a bike shop. I had a fairly successful, if short-lived, career as an amateur triathlete. At various times I’ve dabbled in everything from road racing, to time-trial, and to cross-country mountain biking. For me, this love affair has become a lifelong passion; I’ve taken breaks from it at various times, but I always come back. It’s like the annual Valentine’s Day date Sam Malone had with the same woman every year. I love to ride, and I love owning and riding nice bikes.
Bike racers are obsessive about their machines. Rarely do they spend the kind of money they spend and get something that they view as less than perfect for the price range. They (we) become brand obsessive for the period of time we own the bike. At the same time, we are always thinking about next year’s ride, and how to afford it.
So, when someone asks me, “What kind of woman would your bike be?”, I need to put some serious thought into it. I have four prize possessions in the house now.
I've got the Zunow Classic Road Racer (1992, Japanese hand build frame) and Cramerotti Time triathlon bike (1991, hand built Italian time trial frame). Both these bikes were custom built to my specifications, with only the best available parts. The Zunow would be that older, sexy Japanese woman from "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon". The Cramerotti would be Isabella Rosellini. Both experienced, classy women who like to take control and make love all night.
I’ve got the Devincci Desperado cross-country racing bike, hand built in Montreal. I don’t ride the Devincci as much any more, but I do get her out for occasional spin on some single-track. Not as old, but experienced (1996), so I suppose she’d be the 29-year old horny Quebecois girl you pick up at the Roxy for a night of shagging, and visit every 6 months or so. The closing time hook-up with no strings attached. The booty call.
Then there’s my 2003 Wade Simmons RM7 fully dialed freeride / downhill bike. Let’s forget her name is Wade (call her Wendy), and let’s forget she’s a little more robust. This is the Canadian high school girl next door who chose you to loose her virginity with. Sure she’s extremely high maintenance, but she has all the curves in the right places…5’9, 125 lbs, 36 C chest, 24 waist, 34 hips. Great ass; not skinny, not fat, nice and round…has that “work out” look. Firm, perky breasts. Long, muscular legs. Luscious, full lips. Big brown eyes, auburn hair. Her body decorations make her all that much sexier: the powder coat finish of the RM is the equivalent to a perfect tan, without the tan lines. The one-of-a-kind decals are the equivalent to her navel ring and tongue stud. Top of the line parts means she keeps her hair smelling nice, her toenails and fingernails painted, and she wears nothing but the best, most flattering clothes. Very sexy, yet proper. This little lady looks pretty, but she likes it rough! She’s a dirty little girl that, no matter how hard you try and stop her, wants to go down all day. Wendy gets you all excited about your next session with her every time you think of her. Your friends are jealous of her. This is love in its earliest stages…you can’t get enough of each other.
As I sit here at work, all I can think about is riding Wendy. Of course, I’ll have to ditch her in a year, and get a new girl, because Wendy’s DU bushings will be all beat to hell…