jim-agery

Gearing Up 

And so it begins. After reaching out to friends on Facebook, I found a local bike shop highly recommended by everyone. This amateur walked in completely clueless. I haven't even been on a bike for almost six years. And when I was, it was to commute to work or take a short weekend ride. I wore shorts and t-shirts. Put my gym shoes on and rode off by pushing down on my big, chunky plastic pedals. That's how a bike works, right? What? It's not? I need to buy hundreds of dollars in gear? What is that, why do I need it, and how much do I need?

Before I could get an answer from the pros at the shop, they had to get past the idea that I had signed up for a 545 mile ride. "Getting past it" meant trying to hide the oddest facial expression ever created - some mix of jaw dropping, eyes popping (and simultaneously crossing), all while stifling a gut wrenching fit of laughter. For those 2.4 seconds, they were not pretty. Once they regained their composure, I got the answer... if I'm going to tackle century rides (100 miles), I'm going to need a lot of gear. Water bottles to hydrate and bottle cages to hold them. Tool kits, patches, tubes and pumps for roadside maintenance. Saddle bags to hold it all. Shorts/bibs for comfort in the saddle and jerseys to whisk away the sweat and keep me cool. Clipless pedals and fancy shoes that clip into them (Clip into clipless pedals? Huh?). And, of course, a helmet - I gotta protect the noggin' to keep on bloggin'. You get the picture. Actually, if you don't, here it is: 

These shorts scream, "I'm happy to see you!"

"Here you go, sir. Stock me up. Here's my credit card." No, that didn't happen. I kept it simple. One cycling outfit (bib/jersey), a bottle cage and a helmet. Then I walked out $265 dollars less wealthy.

When I arrived home, I realized there was one piece of gear I hadn't put much thought into. It's essential since I'm planning on a ride tomorrow. So I opened the garage door and saw it exactly where I left it six years ago. That once beautiful 1998 Gary Fisher Marlin.

Opening the garage door, I saw it looking as neglected as it was. Hanging crookedly. Tires flat. Covered in dust. It looked so bad I wasn't sure I could make it ready to ride tomorrow but I pulled it down and got to work anyway. Inflated tires. Greased chain. Tightened bolts. Wiped down everything. Mounted bottle cage. Rummaged through the junk drawer to find the key to the bike lock.

Fourteen years old. Aside from the seat and tubes, it's all original. And, surprisingly, looks ready to roll...

Now let's see if I am.