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Blog Entry 101 of 623 What's Going On
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Friendship is a used bicycle

Contributed by: Brendan Leonard/YourHub.com   on 8/1/2006

About a year ago, my friend Nick finally walked into a bike shop and bought himself a road bike. This was the end of about two years of him thinking about buying a bike, and he'd been talking about buying either a mountain bike or a road bike. One night, my girlfriend, Emily, got sick of all the speculation and said, "You know what they're going to put on your tombstone, Nick? 'He Should Have Bought That Mountain Bike."

The next day, he dropped $600 on a black bike, made with a recycled steel frame, from Scott, a guy who started the Salvagetti bike business after redoing an old Trek for his girlfriend. The company's logo is a trash can bordered by two laurels.

So, for about a year now, I've had to listen to Nick talk about bicycling. He talks about bikes -- old, classic ones, fixies, single speeds, old track bikes. He talks about riding, whether it's down to the Cherry Creek Reservoir or up Lookout Mountain by himself, or the midnight rides to Morrison he goes on with Emily (not my girlfriend)and Chief, the No. 1 barista and owner of St. Mark's Coffeehouse, respectively.

I also got to hear the words "You should get a road bike" for the past year, probably since about a week after Nick bought his. Oh yeah, and he bought a single-speed one a few months ago. I was impressed, but sort of the way you're impressed when your friend is really excited about their new cat and you don't really like cats, but you like your friend and you're happy that they're happy about their new cat.

I joined the chorus in April, once mentioning to Emily that I'd like to get a road bike and train to ride up Mt. Evans sometime. Then I started saying it every week, then every few days, and checking Internet ads for used bikes selling for $200 in Denver. Well, I never had the money. I never have any money, because by the time I'm done paying for gas to get to whatever snowboarding/hiking/backpacking/climbing destination we're going to for the weekend, and whatever small pieces of gear and permits I need to do such things, I am broke. Oh yeah, and then there's the weddings. Summertime zaps my tiny wallet down to just enough money to get a burrito now and then.

So I convinced Nick that he should take up rock climing this year,and that costhim about $300. I figured it was another hobby for both of us and he wouldn't mind spending the money once he experiences the enlightenment or whatever that feeling is that comes along with it. I was just glad I didn't have to come up with the money.

And last Sunday, we were out climbing (quite badly) at the Ironclads, near Allenspark, and let me tell you, the people who camp in that area like their guns. We wore ourselves out in about three hours of trying to climb while gunshots ripped across the mountainsides. I'm not really sure what they were shooting at. We left thoroughly tired, realizing both of us had a long way to go before we become decent climbers. I dropped Nick off at his apartment in Denver and was sitting on my couch, just about to drift off into a nice afternoon nap, when Nick called.

"Hey buddy, come downstairs. I'm out front."

So I run downstairs in my bare feet and there's Nick with another damn bicycle. A red Trek 330 this time.

"Got you a present," he says.

"What the &%$@ are you talking about?" I said.

He bought me a 1989 Trek 330, from some guy in Capitol Hill for $225, probably knowing that I was going to continue to talk about buying a road bike well into ski season and then forget about it again until April.

He said, "All you gotta do is go ride with me."

I said, "Great, another hobby," and we walked over to his place, got his bike and went for a ride.

I put 100 miles on that bike in the first week I owned it, on its old, cracked tires, and just about wore out my hands gripping the handlebars.

Now every morning when I walk into work, I'm sweating from the ride there, even though it's all downhill. I find chain grease and bike dirt on my arm, my hands, my pants, and some of my shirts. The lady at the Bed, Bath & Beyond looked at me really funny last Wednesday when I took the wedding gifts she spent ten minutes foofing up with tissue paper and crammed them into my Timbuktu bag before hopping on my bike to head home. I thought that was pretty cool, but she probably wondered if I was ever going to stop sweating.

I'm a new man, I guess. I get it now, what he was talking about all that time. And all I have to do is ride my bike with him. Pretty good deal I got there. Almost as good as the time Nick paid for me to go skydiving.
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Showing 1-4 of 4 comments
Submitted By: Rob Guthrie
posted on 8/4/2006 @ 5:28:04 PM
Rated Blog Entry
Great story, and an even better friend. My relationship with my bike is like that with my scale: we are rarely on speaking terms, much less at a place where we can do something together. The sweating, however, I can relate to.
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Submitted By: Stephanie Blake
posted on 8/2/2006 @ 7:41:01 AM
Rated Blog Entry
Perhaps you should get married, too? Then you can get payback for all the wedding gifts you've been buying for friends. You know you can register for his and her bikes!
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Submitted By: Bill Boucher
posted on 8/1/2006 @ 10:56:26 PM
Rated Blog Entry
Still haven't named my bike. Thinking about "Unridden".
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Submitted By: Tabitha Dial
posted on 8/1/2006 @ 8:16:58 PM
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