Ebullition/Doubt 35: The Cheap Seats

I was flying into RIC. This in and of itself was not strange but having been a previous resident of RVA for nearly a half a dozen years I cannot recall ever flying to or from there. I must have at some point, but maybe only once or twice if ever as my memory is still pretty good. Richmond has always been a city I drove into, out of, or past. Interstate 95 passes directly through it, it’s easy to negotiate and getting around in town is simple as cities go. My company was flying me in for a recruiting event at my Alma Mater and being on their dime I opted not to drive. This did put me with one small disadvantage as schlepping a bike with me for maybe a couple of brief riding windows seemed foolish. I was determined to get those rides in, though. One of those rides was an alumni/student road ride and the other a spin on the killer trails comprising the JRPS. Bringing one bike would have been doable but challenging and two near impossible not to mention very expensive. I am by no means a schnorrer, but I wanted this excursion to be 99% on my company’s dime. Fortunately, my friends up there told me they had me covered for both bikes and to just bring my basic gear and I’d be all set. Best laid plans, maybe, or maybe not? 

We’ll talk about how an issue that could’ve killed my plans turned into a creative and learning experience. First however, listen to your sisters. 

Music Selection: Various artists: The ladies are tired of your shit. I will be the first to admit that punk and too much of hardcore was male-oriented, with a male point of view, and too few women. Back in the early years I was into hardcore, you might see a female bass player and an occasional singer, but these were the exceptions. Over the last dozen years this has changed dramatically and I am stoked. I have many releases by modern bands that feature female vocalists and every other component band member. Some of these have garnered some attention and some less so, but dive in, rage, and feel the rage: Scowl: Psychic Dance Routine, Slant: S/T, Traumatizer: Nuclear War Machine, Die Spitz: Something to Consume, Slut Intent: Slut World, Lambrini Girls: Who Let the Dogs Out, Yellowcake: Can You See the Future?, Torso: Home Wrecked, Filth is Eternal: Love is a Lie, Filth is Eternal, Scarecrow: Crisis E.P., Stress Positions: Harsh Reality.

I suppose I could have hit up the company for a hotel, but I was mostly there to hang with friends, so I opted to stay at their place. Even having a rental car felt odd, but I went with it. My pal, a long time bike kook who is about the same size as me had bikes for me to use for both the alumni road ride on the Capital trail and doing a mountain bike ride on the forever fun JRPS trails. I was still riding clipped in back then so I just brought my kit and my ever reliable Time ATACs for both rides. The alumni ride was great as I had never ridden the Cap Trail and the weather was pristine. That and the bike I borrowed—a Santa Cruz Stigmata 2—was ridiculously killer*. I felt pretty fancy rapping with the dental students throughout the ride and even stayed mostly up front despite being at least twenty years older than everyone else there. 

*I still lament not buying this bike from my friend when he sold it a few years later.

As fun as the road shenanigans were, it was rolling with my friends on the urban trails that make up the JRPS and the assorted pirate trails interspersed between them that I was really looking forward to. When I returned from the road ride however, I was informed that the bike I was to borrow was without a functioning rear brake and my friend not only did not have whatever part was needed to fix it, but no place was open by the time this came to light. It was the end of the day on a Saturday, and shops were closed so securing a demo or rental wasn’t happening either. Additionally, no shops were open on Sunday. We considered cannibalizing a brake from another bike, but that would be a chore, and nothing really seemed ideal. I then found an outdoor outfitter place online that mostly dealt with boating stuff for use on the James, that somehow had mountain bikes to rent and would be open first thing Sunday. Score! 

My enthusiasm could have waned upon picking up the rental the next day as it was about as basic and low end as I could imagine. It was in fact a 29er alloy hardtail, 2×10 drivetrain, cable disc brakes, basic tube inflated tires, with an elastomer fork. It had no dropper which I’d long become accustomed to and much narrower bars than I preferred. The fork was fine for just rolling along, but landing from anything beyond curb height elicited a loud clank. Retail for this rig was a fraction of what my ride costs. Hell, the inexpensive wheels I am testing out currently cost more than a bike like this. Do I sound like a snob yet? 

Despite how wretched the bike was, I put my highbrow outlook aside. I was thrilled just to get out and roll with some old friends. I was not out to set any PRs nor send anything terribly sketchy and figured I’d just be keeping up as best I could, considering that I was making do with gear that wasn’t up to my standards. Cue record scratch. 

Not only did the bike work just fine over the twenty-some-odd miles we rode, but it was a riot. Sure, some bits loosened up, the fork sounded like dropping a metal lunchbox with a hammer in it upon landing even the smallest jumps, and the brakes only sort of worked. However, I had such a great time I did not give AF. No dropper meant I’d reach down to grab the quick release collar, drop the seat for the downs and then stop to raise it back up usually not exactly where I wanted it for the climbs. I truly believe a portion of the fun I had with it was fear-based with me not knowing if it was going to explode at any moment. I have a similar love of the crappiest rollercoasters out there. Most of these are gone from the big parks, but you can still find hairy ones at state fairs and oddball carnivals that roll into town. I’m talking about the generally wooden or steel ones, with coarse safety bars that often don’t lock in place along with its traverse on the tracks being filled with jarring bumps, creaks and other questionable sounds. The archetype of these for me was the Glissade long ago at Busch Gardens Williamsburg. That damn thing scarred the shit out of me as kid, but I loved it. That rental bike brought all that back in spades and definitely worked for a description I’ve long employed when describing mountain biking, being that it is as close to be aboard a human powered roller coaster as one can get. 

So maybe the take home here is that you really don’t need much to have a good time other than the right attitude. Perhaps having a cheap bike that ain’t great could make your old trails seem all new again. Maybe you’ll scare yourself in all new ways. 

Bottle up and geaux again! I’ve still a few water bottles leftover, the insulated Polar Bottles and you can have one sent to you for FREE!  Lower 48 states only. Just send shipping info to hbelly1313@yahoo.com.