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goodbye, old friend
Nov. 10th, 2009 03:18 pmThe first year I did the Boston/NY AIDS Ride, in 1995, I rode on behalf of the LGBT Center, where I was working then; a friend lent me a bright pink bicycle, which I nicknamed "The Pink Avenger." It had cassette tires (very difficult to change by the side of the road), but it was light, and fast; I still smile when I remember riding up to a campsite at sunset and hearing someone yell, "The Pink Avenger!"
In 1996, I rode another bike: the Green Machine. It was sturdy, but it was an offroad bike, with knobby tires and a heavier frame; I almost never got above 10 mph on it (a quick calculation will show that with a 7 am start time, and 100 miles to ride that day, a maximum speed of 10 mph leaves precious little time for eating, resting, or what have you).
Finally, in 1998, Dad had given me his old 10-speed: Big Blue. I'd been riding it off and on since high school: I used to ride back and forth to Canton (11 miles each way); I did my first 50-miler on that bike, and my first overnight. It was a Ross Centaur, a model of bicycle I've never seen since; parts of it were rusty, and worn, but in the 20 years I rode that bicycle, it never had a mechanical problem more serious than a snapped chain. I did the 1998 ride on that bike; when I did the Braking the Cycle ride in 2004, I rode it again.
As the years went by, it began to show its age: the brakes, although serviceable, were somewhat mushy; the handlebar tape dangled in strands; the gearshift tended to grind; finally, after one last Coney Island ride, I decided that it was time. I bought a new(er) bike (Blue II), and took Big Blue to the Recycle a Bicycle place on Loisaida. A quick pat of the handlebars, and I was away.
In 1996, I rode another bike: the Green Machine. It was sturdy, but it was an offroad bike, with knobby tires and a heavier frame; I almost never got above 10 mph on it (a quick calculation will show that with a 7 am start time, and 100 miles to ride that day, a maximum speed of 10 mph leaves precious little time for eating, resting, or what have you).
Finally, in 1998, Dad had given me his old 10-speed: Big Blue. I'd been riding it off and on since high school: I used to ride back and forth to Canton (11 miles each way); I did my first 50-miler on that bike, and my first overnight. It was a Ross Centaur, a model of bicycle I've never seen since; parts of it were rusty, and worn, but in the 20 years I rode that bicycle, it never had a mechanical problem more serious than a snapped chain. I did the 1998 ride on that bike; when I did the Braking the Cycle ride in 2004, I rode it again.
As the years went by, it began to show its age: the brakes, although serviceable, were somewhat mushy; the handlebar tape dangled in strands; the gearshift tended to grind; finally, after one last Coney Island ride, I decided that it was time. I bought a new(er) bike (Blue II), and took Big Blue to the Recycle a Bicycle place on Loisaida. A quick pat of the handlebars, and I was away.
