I've come to really enjoy these road rides. Honestly, I just flat out enjoy riding a bike and the motion of pedaling. The speed and efficiency of a road bike is addicting. You pedal and it goes. No hesitation, no loss of power to fat tires or rocks or suspension. The world turns down and it's surprising how fast a sub 20 pound bike picks up speed. Black ice and gravel add some serious excitement. So do rednecks in diesel trucks.
Aside from road riding, I've been revisiting my teenage years. I started racing bikes at 13 and quit around 17-18. In that time, I didn't go on dates with girls. I didn't go out and party. I didn't do enough homework. I did ride my bike. And I spent countless hours in our garage tinkering with bikes. Bleeding brakes, overhauling hubs, rebuilding forks, building wheels, making messes. It was great. My finger tips were always raw (rubber gloves when playing with fork oil or DOT fluid? Please!) The garage floor was covered in oils and grease. So were my knees. The satisfaction of making a sticky fork or fouled brake work like new was ever-present. Then I went to college and quit riding. I forgot about most everything bike related. Sure I dabbled here and there. I owned a mountain bike and did a handful of rides as the urge stuck. Unless there was a cable to change or flat tire, I didn't do much in the way of bike work.
|An organized and well lit workspace is essential to a job well done|
There's always downsides, though. In this case, its the door going into the garage. The latch doesn't catch easily and the door inevitably drifts open. Then Angel yells at me to shut the door. Usually when my hands are covered in something foul or I'm trying to get that tiny and awkward screw threaded. Happens every time.