My ’95 Marin fits me better than any bike I have ever owned before or since. It’s a joy to ride.
OK, so not as much fun as my Enduro for schralping the gnat, not as versatile as my Diverge for road and track action, and nothing like as good as my Brompton as a mode of transport, but oh my is it a delight to ride on a warm summer’s day on the Plain. Even better on the (increasingly rare) times I get to go out on the Plain for a night ride, sans lights on a fullish moon clear night. Something about the feel of that bike, the poetic half-light of the moon and that chalk landscape stirs my soul.
(Oh, and yes…Parklife! But I don’t care. I still reckon ’95 era bikes were among the best)