Tales from Arkansas: I need a new bike

A group of Sioux Falls-area dudes recently journeyed to the new mecca of mountain biking - Bentonville, Ark. - for a few days of festivities. One of those dudes, Dave Decker, was kind enough to relay his experience.

Here's Dave:

"Gosh this bike has held up well, what’s it gotta be… like almost 10 years now?" 

That’s what I thought until I ran across a pic of my youngest, graduating this year, with my bike when she was a baby!

Per usual, I got a fantastic tune-up and it’s been running like a gem. I just have been in "making it work" mode for so long as you tend to do when you have kids and car repairs and everything else tumbling in. Then my buddy texted and said "Bentonville." 

I started riding to prepare, but didn’t do anything to prepare the bike other than the aforementioned tune-up.

Fast forward to 15 minutes into the ride on day two on the gorgeous OZ Trails system in Bentonville, Ark. I wiped out on that 17 year-old, hard-tail Cannondale. It's the model with the head-shock. (Vintage? Yeah... but she's a beaut', Clark.) 

I finished that day of 16 miles and was a little worse for wear. My back was feeling worse by the minute. We got back to our AirBnB and were doing some assessments of our assets as it were, when my buddy with a full-suspension Santa Cruz kindly - heavily - suggested I try ‘something else’ for tomorrow’s foray. 

I was really nervous. "Making it work" has a comfort of its own. Stay with what you know. Not physical comfort necessarily, but mental for sure.

I reluctantly agreed to try out the Santa Cruz, hoping to stave off some of my soreness from the previous day’s crash with the advertised “less bumpiness” of The Bronson, my shiny gold steed for the day. No front derailleur? Dropper seat post? Twenty-nine inch tire up front and a DIFFERENT SIZE IN THE BACK?

Beyoncé summed my feeling up best. I was, in fact, "not ready for that jelly." A couple spins in the parking lot got me grabbing the correct shifters. These were a little different than my Grip Shift. (Have I mentioned how vintage my vintage is?) Plus, figuring out how the bike moved as a friend dialed in the suspension.

You may have guessed, but I didn’t die. Quite the opposite. I felt VERY alive. Not because of the bike - the trails were unbelievable – but also not NOT because of the bike. I have long been worried that a new bike wouldn’t be quite right, that full suspension would suck on climbs, that having no front derailleur would be…. Well, I’m not sure, but it would be different. That kept me on a good bike, but I could be riding a great one.

I’m not sure what I’m going to be riding in a year, but it won’t likely be my current vintage. She’ll stay around - I’m not a barbarian - but she won’t be my main ride. My main ride will be newer, will be more capable and will for sure be part of what is making me feel alive.