I spent my teenage years on a series of Motobecanes - ending the 70’s on a really beautiful Gran Jubile’. That bike meant a lot to me. Freedom and escape when needed. It was the one and only really nice thing I owned for a very long time. I’d kill to get another Gran Jube. Black with red accents. Gold lettering. Almost $500 back in 1976. It was stolen from my front porch during a tumultuous time breaking up with my girlfriend of the time, and dropping out of college. I’ve scoured the web and eBay for another. I thought I saw one lashed to the back of a van puttering down a side street in Moab last fall. I woulda’ offered the guy hundreds if I coulda’ caught him.
Cycling star Amy Dombroski ended a lucrative contract because her sponsor bike was too heavy. As a cycocross rider weight is super-critical to acceleration. Her bike means winning races.
My nephew rides for Yeti Cycles. He now gets a new bike(s) every season. The latest technology, the latest materials. But I wonder what the emotional attachment (if any) is.
I’ve got a new Trek I’ve put about 3000 miles on now. It has my old colors (black and red) and is growing on me a lot. It has an entirely different meaning. It means diabetes can’t beat me. It means charity rides with others in the diabetes community. It means dropping a few 30 year olds on a thousand foot climb in Death Valley.
What does your bike mean?