We’re finishing up week seventeen of the year, which means about eighty five work days. This means I’ve ridden about eight hundred and fifty miles so far this year in my commute alone. This doesn’t include the Point83 rides I go on every couple of weeks, weekend rides around the south Seattle neighborhoods and beyond, or anything special like the FHR. It’s just the short ride I make every day that I can easily count. I don’t have a bike computer to keep track of all of this, because it doesn’t fucking matter.
I’m glad it’s nice out and more people are getting back on their bikes. I’m seeing the one or two bikes in my office that refuse to use the bike rack in the garage because they cost more than my truck showing up again. I have to assume there’s more of this in the building, because all the bikes I see in the garage look like they do actually get ridden. All the same, there’s definitely an ideology clash here, that goes beyond if you think the amateurs are the squids or the posengers, (aka the other guys).
In trying to think of the best way to identify the root of this, I’m drawn to thinking about what kind of bike would elicit a “nice!” from someone. For me, it’s pretty hard for someone to buy a new bike that’s going to impress me. It’s not going to have personality. There’s not the love of building it yourself, let alone from parts that already have a history. The bike has no stories to tell other than that of your paycheck, which, perhaps is the story you want it to tell. A part being expensive doesn’t mean a whole lot to me, and I realize that’s deeply rooted in a personal belief that the value of something doesn’t come from it’s fiscal worth.