There were toys with wheels at a very young age. There were tricycles in the driveway and garage, there were wagons ridden down the hill. Those were fun, but the thing that I remember most clearly as the start of my PEDALING as a means of ultra enjoyment was a super sweet Big Wheel that was themed as a "Dukes of Hazard" sticker scheme. As with any good toy, this one died from overuse, not from outgrowing it. It participated in many races and obstacle courses, sometimes races against myself, going faster and faster hugging the inside corners and controlled drifting over rough concrete.
The rest of my childhood had it's spattering of bicycles. Some hand-me-downs and a sweet used bike from a classmate's older brother (I remember the excitement of that purchase, it was super cool) kept me traveling in style on the one mile stretch of gravel between my house and my grandparents. You never forget your first NEW bike, though. It was a sweet blue bike with white wheels (I'd never seen that sort of thing before), and a handbrake that I never used because it had coaster brakes. You can see my sister's sweet ride, too; that was her first new bike, as well.
In late high school or early college, I got my first mountain bike. It was a Roadmaster from WalMart. I put some significant mileage on that thing. My next mountain bike came from target in about 1997. It was a full suspension dealie and my best buddie got a matching one. I had a blast on that thing riding around campus. I eventually sprayed it yellow, then it was promptly stolen. I don't know that I have any pictures of those bikes, if I ever run across some, you know I'll post them!
In grad school I finally sprung for a decent bike. I was tired of continuously adjusting shifters and squeaks and groans from spots that shouldn't. At the time of this Blog I still own this bike. It was a brand new 2001 Trek 4300. Over time I added bells and whistles, like clipless pedals, computers, lights, racks. Some of those things have come and gone, but this is the bike that taught me that cycling is fun. Single tracking, zipping through parks in my small town, pulling the kids in the trailer, or training for a triathlon. So versatile, even though it was designed for something specific, but this bike is like an old pair of shoes that you know you won't be able to hang onto forever, but just feel right, like they were designed with YOUR feet in mind.
Now comes the cliff, that one last event that is so substantial that it changes everything. The event that triggered that predisposition I have towards bike addiction. I had been researching bikes on the Internet and had decided on the exact bike I wanted. I knew my components, I knew bike geometries, I knew costs, I knew those things for all competitors, I had decided and all I needed to do was walk into the bike shop and place my order. I didn't need sales pitches, I knew all I needed to know to avoid upselling, and I had a budget that was non-negotiable. BUT, I didn't expect to fall in love, especially not with a bike. It was red, it looked fast, and it was a couple years old traded in on something new by a guy who obviously knows bikes. The best part about it was that it was ONLY twice what I intended to spend on a bike. But money can't buy love, can it? Well, that's what they say, but I didn't want to risk the possibility that it COULD buy me love. So I did it. And here's my Madone 5 series. no comments on the clip on aero bars, please...
