ride. scream. stuff.

Stuff. You got it. I got it. They got it. Who gets it? All the stuff you have accumulated throughout life. I once subscribed to the motto, “If all my earthly possessions don’t fit in my 1996 Sable station wagon, then I am too heavy.” These damn Jimmy’s Cookies have me 5 pounds heavy this time of year but that is okay it was snowing. Just in April. In Michigan. That’s right. Passion not profit is what drives my 5 pounds – Ullrich I am, 15 pounds heavy here (in photo). Today I have these visions of finishing 2 or 3 in an Elite level cross country race here in Michigan and screaming as I cross the line, “I love Jimmy’s Cookies…Walnut Chocolate Chip.”  They use butter and I swear there is passion somewhere in there. $3.29 and I am lit up like Life magazine. Before my time a poster sized journal of stories were read by Americans from coast to coast regularly in the name of one Life magazine. I remember seeing them in my grandparent’s basement.  With $500 for a snow board and $500 for a bike I walk into my local bike shop in 1993. I walk out of 10 shops later to find people have lied to me to sell me a bike. Sounds like a sin, to me, ‘the next weekend warrior/newbie,” in their eyes.  I just wanted to keep my gut off in very formative years. I wanted to get high and biking is the only drug that that has in inverse relationship to price and weight; the more you pay the less you get; lighter the bike is, the higher I go, the more enjoyable the ride to a degree.  Apparently some sales staff at the shops thought I was joking or maybe they just saw me as $$$. I had people telling me Shimano LX was better than XT.  Silly rabbit, this is the group-O, as it is referred to by avid cyclists and I was not about to be duped by a lie as I was about to hand over my life savings on a bike that was double the cost of my car. I knew two things, I wanted Shimano XTR and I knew I had homework.  (I finally got the XTR 10 plus years later). I walked into buy a mountain bike way before it was trendy as seen in GQ Magazine (yes they did an article in the mid-90s and ironically there was a  “stud” on every trail and I am sure there still is.  Call me crazy, but more people on self propelled wheels sounds like a better, greener earth.  Of course I was not the first mountain biker, nor will I be the last, we all know it was and is Fisher and gang). I walk out spending $1200 on my first post-adolescent bike; a Trek 8700. Free again like 5 years old and 16 did not even compare to my new journey I was about to embark on, but I did not know that at the time.  Yeah it was purple and I like chicks, but sexual preference does not matter.  What does matter is a human approach to life. Get it?  Who gets it? For me, now, size matters only in wheel size. 29er is it, but there is more sizes out there and even for different courses and you can mix circumference and size until your heart’s content until you find something that fits you just right.  Like a lover you will know “your bike” when it speaks to your soul.  Don’t fret newbie, pro or poser it is inside almost all of us, you got to want to find it and you cannot be looking for it.  In 1993 my two wheeled savior as if jesus himself was handing me blue print…of life…as the dealer handed me a Life sized catalog…  It contained a history of Trek with pictures of some older serious looking dude’s welding, a tech spec of materials, tons of product, and a whole bunch of passion and butter—there was no hydrogenated oil here. No high fructose corn syrup and I was on my way to be at the least the ‘badest’ weekend warrior ever. Well…I quit the business school and rode a little too much (the former is not advised). Always wear a helmet when biking (rule number 1 in picture and of course advised).  The 8700, an aluminum lugged 3 composite tube front triangle frame glued together, with, as rumor had it, “space shuttle tile glue.” A ‘trimable’ front DX derailleur (to help with rubbing when cross chaining) and a top tube that was, shall we say rather high and there was no front shock. Toe clips and Asics running shoes. I walked more than I rode.  My life was changed. My basement now has stuff. I wear the weight only in the winter. No matter how long the wait, dream the bike you want, but make sure the passion is not just with you, but with your maker as well. Religious or not we will all meet him or her; that one. And some of us do every time we step on the bike. If your name is Richard Burke, you changed the world with your passion, we will remember you.  “You, the bike rider, join us on our quest to find your passion.”  Whatever your creed, don’t forget to ride and scream as you think of all life’s crazy stuff.