Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Aero or Die
Dating her is enthralling. One moment we’re on top of the world—secretly flying to exotic places and doing crazy things. The next moment she’s on top of me with a razor blade dancing at my throat.
In short, she’s the most beautiful and interesting thing I’ve ever mounted, but she’s also dying to kill me.
I guess one could say our relationship has issues.
But as is the case with most relationships, our issues are mutual. She hates me because she thinks I’m unfaithful, and her fears aren't ungrounded.
A trusty P3c she may be, but she’s going up against Shivs, Speed Concepts, and P4s.
So naturally I get excited at the races around all the new bikes. I cannot help but marvel at the all internal cable routing, integrated brakes and bars and waterbottles, and tap the nose-cones.
It’s not her fault; she’s as gorgeous as ever. It’s just that her younger competition has raised the stakes.
But she should know better than to think I've ever gone past looking or inquisitive and innocent touching.
She knows there is no bike quite like her. Yeah, the yougins may have integrated this and aerodynamic that, but they don’t have vintage Hooker SL brakes, Scott 100k TT bars, or user-calibrated SRMs.
They’re cheap plastic. She’s something more. I would never do anything to harm our relationship.
Which is why I really don’t understand her violence. When I’m racing at 30mph, I can hardly afford a seat that becomes detached from the rails. My idea of a fun time doesn't involve a seatpost jammed up the ass.
So it's time she and I get some help. I promise not to look elsewhere if she promises not to kill me. It's no solution, but it's a start.