Sentimental value can make you do silly things.
There’s a certain R.E.M. 1987 Work Tour T-shirt, with the delicacy of a snowflake and more holes than my golf swing, that not only has a wood hanger in the closet, but also its own restricted airspace. There’s a certain curly state highway that I elect over the twice-as-timely interstate not only for the pastoral landscapes and brackish AM reception, but also for — Lady Luck willin’ — the roadside stand advertising “BOIL’D P-NUTS.” And there are certain park benches, Beatles tunes and faint aromas that not only turn my coconut, but also shudder, bob or tuck it.
I am learning that sentimental value can make you do stupid things, too.
My gravest decision this year concerns a bicycle frame. The sentimentalist in me wants to astride a certain mountain bike: a Manitoba model from Nishiki circa 1997.
I purchased the Manitoba, which would qualify as the economy model at most Hertz counters, when cycling was less an awareness of physical fitness and environmental friendliness, and more an awareness that my Ford pickup (a decade the Manitoba’s junior) had its own personality, which gravitated exclusively between unreliable and incorrigible. The Manitoba and I have seen a lot of miles together, predominantly on moving trucks, and I figured that the durability ought to count for something. After undergoing a recent transformation — I replaced the knobby tires with “slicks,” I added a water-bottle cradle, and I purchased bar ends with every intention of installing them — the Manitoba, I reckoned, was RTR ready.
Think again, I’m told.
One buddy, who was the consummate cyclist in his salad days, took one look and pooh-poohed the new-look Manitoba. The rims are too wide, he said. The frame is too heavy. Get some toe clips. And think about a road bike. Think hard.
I talked with another buddy. As it turns out, he has not one, but two “very nice” road bikes in his garage. He generously offered the one that better “fits my body,” suggesting that if the “gearing” wasn’t just right on the bike, he’d gladly fork over some dough to make it right. He lost me at “fit.”
Next I moseyed on down to the neighborhood bike shop. Carole and Ned at did not try to dissuade me. I think. “You’ll be fine on the climbs,” said Ned. “You might lose out a little on the downhill.” Not a clear endorsement, I realize, but clearly not discouragement.
Then I consulted the Ride the Rockies website, which recommends: “The simple answer to which type of bike is best for the tour is a road bike. A road bike has less rolling resistance, dollar for dollar weighs less than a mountain bike, offers multiple hand positions and puts you in a more efficient position for paved road cycling. If you have both, take your road bike.
“However, if you have only a mountain bike and are about to log-off to go buy a road bike, freeze in your tracks …
“If you’re completely happy with your mountain bike, and think you should buy a road bike that will rot in your garage after Ride The Rockies, think again. Sure it’s easier and faster on a road bike, but you definitely can comfortably Ride The Rockies on a mountain bike.”
Ah, now that was more like it. I sought not advice, but rather reinforcement, and “you definitely can comfortably Ride The Rockies on a mountain bike” provided it.
So, for now, despite the generosity of friends with their counsel and gear, I’m leaning toward the Manitoba. If efficiency ruled every travel day, I wondered, what would have become of Jack Kerouac’s signature novel or Robert Frost’s signature poem?
And if tackled a mountain range two centuries ago with only the desperate hope of trading shiny beads and dull omens for horses, surely I can swing it without the state-of-the-art fork, shifters and crankset of Trek’s .
Right?
It turns out that this venture is riskier than I initially thought. The very depth with which I value sentiment is at stake.
Amen. Worst-case scenario: I free up some room in the closet.
DenverPost.com sports producer Bryan Boyle is training for the — his first bike ride of any kind beyond the occasional wee-hour visit to a convenience market. His series runs each Tuesday on DenverPost.com until the late-June event, where he will file daily reports along the route from Grand Junction to Breckenridge.
To share any RTR-related experiences, fears, advice or yarns, send an e-mail to Bryan at bboyle@denverpost.com.
