So many of the ‘new breed’ of roadies seem to have bought into the whole TdF fantasist culture:
They have a race bike.
They have race kit.
They go on pretend, make believe races.
They do not race.
They often don’t look like they are enjoying themselves, which is a hell of a shame considering all the money they’ve spent.
If they took a nice paperback and a picnic, their partner, had a nice chat and visited a couple of owl sanctuaries on the way, then maybe they wouldn’t sell their bikes after a year because riding hurts all the time, they can’t get up the hills, they get covered in crap in winter because their bike won’t take mudguards and they feel like a
failure.
Yup.
That’s why old roadies rule. We were doing it before all these monkeys turned up, and we’ve been doing it ever since.
We know you don’t need ten litres of fluid to ride ten miles to the café, we know you don’t need the latest and greatest technical jersey, we know that it’s about the ride not the bike. We know that steel isn’t real because when we started that was all there was. We know how to use toe clips and straps because when we started there was no alternative. We know that you can actually leave the house without a mobile phone. We know that helmets ain’t all that.
We know this stuff because we lived it, and you don’t know because you weren’t there man.