tribute to an old bike

Five years ago, I bought a small, wretched, painful sailboat because my friend Steve did. If he was in, I was in. After one sail, I found myself curled up in the fetal position on the beach, exhausted, in pain, out of breath, out of shape.

The choice was simple. Get fit or expire. Coincidentally, my brother was getting rid of the bicycle you see pictured above. He had acquired the cannondale m300 at Landry's when his friend boardie or woodie or tommie or someone whose name ended in "ie" worked there. He paid $175 on clearance.

That was more than a decade ago, and to celebrate his new-found freedom, he donned a tee-shirt, short gym shorts, long tube socks, and a pair of light blue nikes with yellow swoosh stripes. He rode that bike all over Wompatuck state park and beat it up pretty well.

To him it was beat. To me, it was just getting broken in. I accepted the maroon beast, installed a new chain, cassette, headset, slick road tires, and a pair of pedals. Also added fenders and a rack as I would just be using the bike to get to and from the commuter boat.

One thing lead to another, and before I knew it, I was riding the beat red cannondale from my house in Hull to work in Boston. During the commutes, this bike provided me with an education on how to change flat tires as well as an advanced degree in how to fix broken spokes.

The wheelset had been beaten to a pulp in the woods, so you had to baby it around town, or the rim would come out of true and the spokes would break.

I told myself that if I could ride the beater 1000 miles, I would treat myself to a proper commuter bike. Which I did.

But to this day, I still ride around on the cannondale m300 for townie rides, to and from the commuter boat, and errands around town. I have a long way to go before those new parts I put on it are worn out.