I believe that bicycling is amazing, and that nothing should stand between you and how amazing bicycling can be. To be honest, I don’t believe in unsolvable problems (though one can’t always afford the ideal solution). I believe in well reasoned, informed decisions and salespeople who try to enlighten you, rather than coercing you. I believe the right parts, whatever they are, are out there for you — and I’m not at all a fan of “settling.” I believe in being reasonable and realistic.
I am not — and I mean this — a zealot or a fanatic. I don’t believe that bikes are the panacea that’s going to single-handedly heal the environment. No, commuting by bike isn’t for everyone — some people just can’t do it, and they aren’t to be judged or thought less of. (I mean that too — and I’m looking at you, Pacific North-West bike community. Stop hating! You aren’t helping anything.) Bicycling is no more the ultimate gateway to health and happiness than being vegan or driving a Prius. That said: I do believe that there is extraordinary happiness to be found in bicycling, and I’d love to help you access it.
I want to help you ride your bike. I want to help you meet your goals. I want to help you solve problems. I want to demystify your bike, because knowledge empowers you and I dig empowering people. I want you to have the perfect saddle, a well-fitting helmet, and a sweet ride made of the right material for what you’re using it for. I want you to know how to keep yourself happy and healthy on the bike in all conditions — between clothing and nutrition, there are a lot of ways to improve your experience.
I’m passionate about wheels, because, to paraphrase Twain, the difference between the right wheels and the almost-right wheels is the difference between a lightening bolt and a lightening bug. Using the wrong wheels is like wearing the wrong shoes; you’ll always know you’re playing soccer in flip-flops, no matter how long you do it for.
And for the record: I don’t believe in condecension, coersion, mocking your choices, or trying to sell you things by assuring you that you don’t know enough to make a good choice on your own. I haven’t met a person yet who hasn’t been able to learn to fix their own bike. Does that mean everybody should? Well, no. You probably have a life; maybe fixing your own equipment just isn’t what you want to spend your time on. I respect that, too, and I keep a stable of strong opinnions around for your use, if you ever feel like having them. But I wont force them on you — that’s just not OK.
Bicycling is delicious, guys. And if it isn’t, we’ll fix it ’til it is.
