Owner's Gallery: Nicholas J

Rain slapped the pavement. Wind blew inland from the lake, whipping flags through soggy seizures, the spray into my eyes. There was no relief in going down. Puddles found fissures in the road to pool and arrest rivulets in no difference between my skin and shiny tarmac. We churned.

Reaching the parking lot at the first gate, stuttering to a slow stop over the chopped pavement and grieving patches of slick tar, turning left to go up again, hunched forward, leaning into the gear.

The machine leapt forward. Shiny black metal polished with embrocation and thigh stubble, it was a cat closing on prey. No need to get out of the saddle. No need to push harder than smoothly, to shift to a larger cog, to hunch or gasp. No need to do anything beyond a subtle wrapping of light grip around the tops of the bar, and a coaxing (more in myself than of the machine) toward the grade.

On the third shoulder the quiet flooded in. On all sides there was the absence of so many sounds of drops and gusts and cracks and holes. There was only perfectly tensioned spokes pulling on round rims pulling in pumped tires rolling over rough ground. There was one sound. It was the bike.

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I’ve been riding the bike for more than three seasons now, and it’s still new enough that I feel like we’re not yet married. It’s still a lot of lust and grandiose dreams, though there are quiet moments of profound meaning. The bike makes me a better rider. I have posted higher speeds and faster times and bigger watts and harder turns on this bike than on any other. I have ridden longer on this bike, through more rain than I’d care to remember, on this bike than any other. This bike has saved my life. This bike has saved my ass. This bike has been pushed and pulled and wrenched through serious times and serious doubts, and made it every time. The frame sings on bad pavement and urges me on through every sprint. It is beautiful to look at and dependable to ride. I know what it’s going to do, every time, except for when I ask it to do something crazy, and then it does, and waits for even more. The bike is comfortable enough to ride 242km through pouring rain when I wasn’t even in shape to ride 42km. The bike is fast enough for TT finishes with my highest watts ever. The bike flies through commuting hours with aplomb, carving through pothole-ridden streets and multi-use path walkers without incident. Stand up and it goes. Sit down and it cruises. It is the greatest bike ever.

Sometimes people ask me how much it weighs. I kind of chuckle and, if they still want to know, tell them that I’ve never weighed it. I don’t really care. I don’t really care to know. It rides perfectly, and that’s all.

This frame was a gift from my very generous father. I can’t wait to save up for my next one. Worth way more than every single penny, and prettier too. I have no idea why anyone would buy a production bike instead of a Strong.