Ramen Noodles, water, bananas and cheep beer. To me these all equate to my nice bike. The one that killed my bank account, murdered my social life and destroyed my spare time. Its the one in the stable that screams out to you every time you look at it... Take me! Take me! The one you have to tell "NO" far too often in Minnesota, Im sorry nice bike its too rainy out for you to play outside... Its way to snowy... That salt will kill your beautiful look.
But not Today!!!
Yes! Nice bike! You can play outside...
I ride slowly out of the alley like a balding man in his $250,000 Ferrari. We glide down the neighborhood streets in no hurry, gotta warm this fella up. Soft pedaling is all we need till we get to the river, no need to show off speed when you look like this.
You must listen when on this one, not for the engine but for that soft warm road noise that only a high end bike can make. Its a light drone of the road echoing through its full carbon frame, a soft whim from the tubular tyres, and a light vibration from each shift barley pulses through it. You feel none of this... only the contours of the road perfectly hitting your body. The curves of the street ahead of you taken with no effort, like the bicycle already knows your plan of attack.
Now for some throttle... Like a race horse in the starting gate this guy is fidgeting and stomping, let me out! I need to move!
You let it go and everything becomes a blur. The road noise gets drown out by the engine. The feel of the bike becomes one with the burning in your lungs and legs. You loose track of which one is in charge... the bike or the human.