I first became obsessed with bicycles at the age of 2 or 9 or 6.  Lacking much patience, I dragged my bike to the top of the biggest hill I could find when the parents weren’t looking and launched myself down the street.  There’s the “cart before the horse principle” and its spin-off… the “learning to pedal before learning the brakes principle.”  Fortunately, sloped and manicured lawns provide an ample degree of acceleration reduction.

The second day that sticks out crisply in my mind is the day I decided I needed to learn to bunny hop.  The grin on my face a few hours later reflected the exhilaration derived from the first self-induced split-second of detachment from both wheels from planet earth.

Strangely, the final nail in my bicycle obsession coffin was a couple years later, which was shortly after the discovery of the joys available when velocity and mounds of dirt angled toward the sky are combined.  The strange part wasn’t that “getting air” was one of the best feelings possible, it was from the satisfaction of destroying my bike on landing. There’s something about destroying your gear that says you’re trying hard enough.

The rationalization for the need for a more expensive bike I preferred to my mom was likely my first ever gear review. So here we are today. I’ve paid my dues as a bike mechanic.  I’ve done the “bike to work every day” thing.  The important theme that remains is this:  I’ll keep trying to destroy stuff. If I manage to do so, I’ll let you know.