Is It Considered Adultery If The Other Woman Is A Bicycle?

I got reacquainted with an old flame today. No, not a woman, I'm talking about a bike. A bike that I was once really in love with, a bike that I took for granted, a bike that ended up hanging in the rafters of my attic for a few years, totally ignored. I never forgot about that bike though, I would think of it (her?) from time to time, think about how she was languishing up there, not doing me or anyone else any good. It was shameful, I know, but I was busy and I had other bikes vying for my attention. Newer, lighter, dare I say, faster bikes. I was into that kind of thing back then. Always looking for an edge over my competition. But lately I've felt different. I don't want newer or faster bikes anymore. I want more substance in my bike these days. And that old Marinoni fits the bill. I built the frame up a week or so ago with stuff that was on the last race bike I had. That last race bike was on borrowed time for sure. I'm not knocking it, it was once the finest racing bicycle that the Czech Republic could produce. But that was five years ago and I was starting to hear strange sounds emanating from the joints of the thing. Sometimes my mind would wander on a fast descent and I would imagine I felt the rear triangle separating from the rest of the bike. Those of you who are unfamiliar with bicycles might not know it, but if that were to happen, it would be, at the very least, painful. Think of sticking to your sheets for weeks with oozing road rash on 75% of your body. I'm really hoping that I've turned the corner and the oozing road rash days are behind me. Anyway, I found myself not wanting to ride that Czech bike and not having another road bike (as opposed to a mountain, touring, singlespeed, or commuting bike) to ride. Except for that old Marinoni.

When I first started riding and racing road bikes, everyone who was anyone rode a steel frame. Preferably a custom sized and built steel frame. And that is exactly what my trusty Marinoni is. Custom built to my specifications. A 55cm top tube and an extra long head tube to help iron out the differences between my long legs and short torso without looking goofy. The bike I mean, I look goofy anyway. Painted British racing green with a fade to silver. A wacky internal headset that I let the rep talk me into and have kind of regretted ever since. But it was a custom, mine all mine. I raced that Marinoni for only about one season. Steel fell out of fashion with racers. First it was aluminum, then aluminum and carbon composite, now all carbon fiber. Oh, and titanium, which was what initially took the wind from the Marinoni's sails. “Steel is real,” claimed the die hard retro-grouches. “Steel is real... heavy,” replied the techno-dweebs. I took the bait.

Things are different now. I don't care about weight so much anymore. I want to ride a bike that was built by someone who loves bicycles, not by a wage slave in a factory. I want a bike that I can ride for years and not worry about whether or not the glue will fail (seriously, my last bike was glued together.) That's the problem with mass produced bikes these days: most of them are disposable. Not steel though. Steel has legendar fatigue resistance. Steel frames rarely fail and when they do, they do so in a predictable manner, slowly and not all at once on a fast descent. They may not be the lightest bikes on the market but, in my opinion, they are the prettiest. So I restored the old Marinoni to it's original splendor and took it out for a nice long hilly ride. It just felt so right. These fancy carbon fiber blaahh blaahh blaaah bikes that everyone rides today, they're all the same. Even the old Italian builders are turning out cookie cutter carbon frames now because that's what the cycling magazines and product managers are telling people to buy. I'm not buying it. Not again. I want a genuine human being to build my bike, and build it the way I want it. And build it out of good old long lasting steel. Oh wait, I already have a bike like that. I guess I'm all set.