My New Bike

I live right behind an excellent trail that runs the length of the city, with paved and unpaved sections. Mostly gentle stuff, with a few steep inclines. I got tired of watching people on bikes have all the fun from our kitchen, so I dusted off my 10-year old mountain bike and went for a ride.

It was fun and felt great, until about third mile, when my wrists and lower back started to hurt. Just as I was considering turning back, a rider came upon from the opposite direction. He had a big smile on his face, and as he flashed by, I noticed the comfortable-looking handlebars that reached up to his hands, and that we was sitting upright, and not hunched over like me.

A couple weeks later while I was flipping through Bicycle magazine in the waiting room of a doctor's office, I came upon a photo that looked familiar. Wait — it's the happy rider on his comfortable bike! Well, it wasn't the same guy, but the bike sure looked familiar. Hmm, an Electra Townie ...

I couldn't shake the vision of the happy rider in the weeks that followed, so when I had a chance to do a little shopping on a Saturday morning, I popped into the local bike shop. I strolled past racks and racks of low handle bars, mountain bikes and racers, thinking "no, no, no."

At the end of the isle, a solitary Electra Townie. Nice silver color, broad, comfortable looking saddle, those wonderful high handle bars — I had to try it. After handing over my ID, credit card, and filling out a form (when did it get so hard to test ride a bike?), I was given a loaner helmet and told to go have fun.

As I pedaled around the parking lot in front of the store, I marveled at how comfortable, quiet, and smooth the bike felt. The nice, upright position may have not been ideal for single tracking up gnarly mountain sides, but at this point in my life, "I'm just in it for the cruise." I rolled up to the store, paid for the bike and took it home.

Later that night as I was admiring the bike, something felt a bit odd. The Townie was a marvel — lightweight, comfortable, and attractive, but what about that second bar starting at the yoke that pulled down towards the crank ... holy crap, I had bought a woman's bicycle!



A mini-identity crisis followed. I really liked the Townie, it was easy to get on and off and rode so nice, but could I live with myself for owning it? I asked my wife her opinion, and she just shrugged and said "Call Dan."

Since we were kids, my best friend Dan has built, restored, and ridden all sorts of bikes, Schwinn models in particular. He had the coolest Stingray on the block, until a kid we knew (Julio) ripped it off out of his parent's back yard. He replaced it with a 10-speed, and has since added to his collection all sorts of classic Schwinn cruisers from the 50s and 60s, including a neat, light-blue three-wheeler with a basket in the back.

If I had any doubts about my new bike, Dan would settle them once and for all. "Do you fit on it?" Yep. "Do you like the way it rides?" Un-huh. "Ride it!" he said. "No one is going to care, anyway. As long the bike feels good, that's all that really matters."

I took Dan's advice, and I'm loving it. I'm riding much more often, and when I come across other cyclists on the road, backs bent over their mountain bikes, I just smile, lean back a bit, and keep pedaling. Just like a happy rider.