Forum posts, translated!

New to posting on bike forums? Slightly confused as to proper etiquette? Our friend Antony over at Bristol Trails Group wrote a handy humorous guide to bike forum postings!

It’s that time of year again, when the will to ride shrivels up in the cold and rain. Lots of mountain bikers turn to internet forums to help maintain their sense of identity during these dark months.

That’s fair enough, but remember, the internet is a hall of mirrors, and what people write and what they actually mean are often two very different things. Here are some common examples, together with their true meanings:

“That frame/component is made of cheese.” – I read on the internet that someone broke one once.

“[Name of trail] just doesn’t flow.” – I lack the necessary skills to enjoy riding terrain of this type. The hangover didn’t help, either.

“It was the worst bike ever.” – Entering into a 0% finance agreement magically failed to make me into a better rider.

“My current bike is the best one ever.” – I’m living off bread and water for the rest of the year, so it had jolly well better be.

“XC race courses aren’t technical enough.” – I’m not fit enough.

“The angles on that frame look completely wrong.” – I know nothing about bicycle design, but I am determined to sound knowledgeable.

“[Well-regarded model of tyres] tried to kill me the first time I used them in the wet.” – I had them pumped up to 8 zillion PSI.

“Lycra is stupid” – I am fundamentally insecure about my body shape.

“Baggies are stupid.” – I am fundamentally insecure about my clothing choice.

“Kneepads are stupid.” – I never ride hard enough to fall off.

“Fatbikes/29ers/singlespeeds are stupid.” – Different wheel sizes and drivetrain configurations are not entirely optional choices, they are a fundamental threat to my way of life.

“It’s transformed my riding.” – I love to exaggerate. Doesn’t everyone?

Got any more suggestions? Post away!

Barney Marsh

Barney Marsh takes the word ‘career’ literally, veering wildly across the road of his life, as thoroughly in control as a goldfish on the dashboard of a motorhome. He’s been, with varying degrees of success, a scientist, teacher, shop assistant, binman and, for one memorable day, a hospital laundry worker. These days, he’s a dad, husband, guitarist, and writer, also with varying degrees of success. He sometimes takes photographs. Some of them are acceptable. Occasionally he rides bikes to cast the rest of his life into sharp relief. Or just to ride through puddles. Sometimes he writes about them. Bikes, not puddles. He is a writer of rongs, a stealer of souls and a polisher of turds. He isn’t nearly as clever or as funny as he thinks he is.

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