Making my single speed city bike into a single speed CycloX bike.

I love my Single Speed Bike. I built her in 2007, pieced together out of found, used and scrounged parts – all Bride of Frankenstein-like. She has been loving and trustworthy since our first spin together. We have ridden in five separate countries, in three States, through crazy German and Amsterdam traffic, in cities, on lonely country roads, commuted to and from work together, vacationed together, up horrendous hills, and down at least one set of subway stairs. She has never left me stranded, bruised and bleeding a little, but never alone and lost Now, we are riding single track together.

There is a network of mixed use trails near our house (lots of horses) that go on for miles and they have screamed for me to bike them. Right after our stuff was delivered in February, I got my big ol’ butt on my bike for a “quick run” to the store for milk. It was not quick. I had grossly over-estimated both my level of fitness and the slope of the road leading to said store. It did not help that I tipped the scales at nearly 200 pounds and my former peak cycling weight was ~165. My head was spinning by the time I got to the store and I had to fight with all my dignity not to puke. It was bad.

The very next night I put a set of 33X700 cyclo-cross tires on my bike so I could ride the trails by the house, work off some of the belly, and puke in private. The tires BARELY clear the chain-stays on the frame and are 1/8″ away from the brakes, but they DO clear and that is the most important part. Fvck buying a mountain bike! Me and my Single are just fine on the trails here. Even with the new tires, she weighs a whopping 22 pounds and I can throw her over my shoulder and walk by anything real shitty. Try that with a 40 pound full suspension monster!

We went for a muddy 10+ miler after work today and I had a ball! I am down to 181, the sun was shining, there were hard-packed trail sections that I was able to peddle like crazy on and there were some NASTY sections that were caked in slippery mud. We got dirty together.

Hey dad, I was thinking that I NEED a dirt bike…

My son, The Ruminator, sent me a text message this morning that said, “What is your address. Will you pay for half of a dirt bike if I save the other half?” What that means is that I am about to get a letter tugging at my heart strings asking for a two-wheeled, 2-stroke emergency room express transporter. My response was no, I will not pay for half. IF I get a hand written document listing 612 individual reasons (an agreement made between us previously), in completes sentences, why he needs a dirt bike, then I will pay for 1/3.

More than most things in this world, I want my kids to write real letters; documents that contain complete thoughts, written with an ink pen, that you have to put a stamp on and leave in a mailbox for the postman to carry away. My 11 year-old son is keenly aware of this desire as we made a deal last summer that I would get a letter a month for two years… I got three letters. He is eleven, I sort of/kind of understand, but I really did/do want him to write. More to the point: if I were to say get more mail from my offspring that included more information than a scribbled wish list and if he delivered on his 612 reasons, then I might be more open to negotiation for this and other objects of his pre-pubescent desire. I am not going to make this easy or hand it to him. If he has some sweat/brain-power equity in this transaction, then he will learn something and while I want to be liked, I want to be the ‘cool dad’, I think it is important to throw life lessons in his path as much as possible. I read another blog recently where the writer set a priority of “raising citizens.” That resonates with me.