My first real relationship was with a road bike.
I had a plan to do some tour cycling while I was in France, and for that I needed a bike. ‘Cuz you know, it takes two to tango.
I didn’t know what I was getting into. I knew one thing: how to ride a bike, and in some ways that really is enough. But tour cycling… that’s a long term commitment.
I bought my bike online, which is something I don’t recommend. It’s important to know your bike. It’s important that the bike feels right. I felt satisfied with my decision because in buying a bike online I was able to scroll through all my other options. I thought I was well-informed when really I was missing the one piece of information I needed: the way the bike made me feel. Because feelings are important, even when they’re directed towards a bike.
I hit ‘place your order’ and a week later I was staring at the disassembled body of my bike which I had just pulled out of the shipping box. I greeted it with respect and little understanding.
I rode around town trying to pretend it didn’t scare me.
“I’m riding a bike.” I told myself, “Lots of people ride bikes. This isn’t weird and there’s no reason for this to feel unnatural.”
The relationship took a turn for the worse when we moved to France together. In retrospect, I don’t regret the decisions I made. All first relationships are bumpy and awkward, but that doesn’t mean you regret them.
When I saw mon petit vélo there to greet me on the other side of the world, I realized it was a nameless stranger, and someone that was impossible to understand, and someone that I resented.
I had the heart to assemble it, but no more. I locked my bike in a cold and dark garage for a week, without food or water.
At the end of the week I had come to terms with the fact that the only way I was going to bike to Santiago de Compostela was with the bike I had. I needed it. So I stuck with it at the moment I would typically back out of a relationship: Before it’s even begun. Before I can feel hurt or betrayed, but when I feel hurt anyways because there is something I want that I’m afraid to give myself.
So I hopped on my bike one day and headed for the ocean, even though everything about it felt wrong.
I recently wrote, “a bike is just metal, bent to be ridden”. That is not the truth. There is no innate compatibility between a bike and a rider because all people and bikes are different from one another.
My road bike never had a name but I know now that it was never me who had the power to name it.
A road bike has thin tires that are highly pressurized, and they have a geometry that hunches you forwards. It means that the ride is fast and you can cover more distance, it also means your neck will start seizing up after a couple hours and the tires are more than likely to be punctured from sharp object like gravel or glass.
I was going to get to Santiago de Compostela using mostly trails and very little roads, and I was going to be riding for up to 7 hours a day.
Evidently this was not the bike for me. Once that became apparent, I felt relieved. I didn’t have to keep trying to make it work.
This wasn’t the right bike for me, but in turn I was not the right person for the bike.
So after one day and 55 mi, I went into a bike shop in Nantes and asked to exchange bikes. Surprisingly, they said yes.
I told them I wanted the cheapest mountain bike they had and they pointed to a black bike with neon green details. It looked decent, but unfriendly.
Then they realized they didn’t have it in my size so they offered the next best bike at the same price as the last. I took one look at it and knew that I liked it.
When I ride my bright orange mountain bike, I like the way my arms relax when I grip the handlebars, I like how the front suspension lifts me over curbs and large stones. I like how the thick tires plow through gravel, dirt, and thorns. I like knowing that we can get to Santiago together, and not one without the other.
I’m not under any illusion that our relationship will continue from there. The logistics of flying a bike internationally is complicated and costly. Besides, we met in Europe and it’s only fitting that whatever happens between us stays in Europe.
And if anyone is in need of a road bike, there’s a nearly-new one listed in Nantes for ⅓ of what it’s worth. Physically it’s in great condition but mentally it’s most likely lonely, and a little hurt. If this is the bike for you, please treat it with care and kindness.
