My addictions.....

When did I get so addicted? Was it that summer at camp? Nah. What about that time I got lost and bonked hard 15 miles from my car? Nope. Could it have been that time I jumped the drainage ditch? Addiction is a nasty to word to most. Alcohol addiction, drug addiction I never had those problems. I got hooked on something different. I have been addicted for the last 10 years, and maybe longer than that now that I think about it. It was never a steady addiction. It would come and go through the years like the season changes. So when did I start this strung out bender? As early as I can remember it started with a old BMX

Insert Wayne’s world flashback

I loved to ride around my neighborhood, and cause trouble with the other hooligans. I had the mandatory BMX bike, no helmet and an attitude. It was great for a while. Then I saw “Gleaming The Cube” with Christian Slater and all thoughts turned to skateboarding. My Bike slowly started it’s long descent into bike heaven. It’s bearing seized, the chrome bits flaked and rusted, and before I could rescue it from it’s slow painful death I had to put it out of it’s misery. Sure the bike had given me some nasty scrapes, numerous pedal bites and a scar from that time I tried to jump the drainage ditch. But that BMX bike and I had some really good memories. Pedaling around the hood, spontaneous ring and runs, oh and that time I got the scar jumping over the drainage ditch.

After the death of my trusty BMX I was burned. The relationships I tried to form with other bikes were not the same. Something was missing. I dabbled in different sports and activities until I got my first mountain bike. A 1999 Gary Fisher Tassajara. It was to small for me, the rim breaks were shot, and it creaked every time I turned the old pedals attached to the creaky BB. It needed a lot of TLC but I was addicted. I rode it everywhere. I took it with me to summer camp, the beach, and anywhere I could find a road or a trail to ride on. That old Tassajara gave me a more than a good time. It started the addiction that I now have today.

I did not know how addicted I would get until I started working at my current job, some years later. Wilderness Adventure was the best thing that could have happened to me at that time in my life. My bike was not getting ridden much. I had put on a tiny bit of weight. “And by tiny, I mean like 50lbs” and I was jaded by the real world. My new job offered me the lifestyle I needed to get fully addicted. I was now in an environment that promoted bikes, working on bikes and teaching people about bikes. I was hooked. And I needed more. Enter my now best friend. I did not know what being obsessed with bikes meant until I met Jake. Maybe obsessed is the wrong word. It was creepy, and strange. But for some reason I wanted to be that guy too. I dragged my wounded Tassajara to Jake so he could work on it. I was spending most of my paychecks to replace everything on a bike that needed to be put out to pasture. Before long I was looking at new bikes and flashy new parts. My own obsession had begun.

50 some pounds lighter and more years that I want to think about later, here I am. My old BMX has been long gone, and the only thing left of my tassajara is the vintage frame on the wall. I am sure the BMX has made it’s way into the worlds of many other kids in various forms. Born again after being melted down for scrap. I hope at least a small part made it back to a bike, or a part of a bike. I have owned many bikes since. Some I have loved, and some I have loathed. I am more obsessed than ever. My friends and relatives think I borders on creepy and strange, but still obsessed. Airborne has allowed me a new way to be obsessed. Not only can I be obsessed with my bike, and what I do to it. But now I am privy to a world I never dreamed. It’s the drug I crave, on a daily basis, and there are no pesky side effects like death to worry about. Us two wheeled junkies from bonds with the machines of our addiction, Like a John Wayne and Dollar or The Loan Ranger and Tonto. The addiction is not only a personal one. It can spread to a group. Drinking the MTB Kool-Aid gets you membership to a support group for your addiction, scars that will bring back fond memories and a revolving need to be out on the trails.

The bike holds great memories of good times with my best friends. The rides that went wrong or the ones that never seemed to end. It shapes my future in the form of trips, and what part I need next. It also quite possibly saved my life. Getting my lard butt out of the easy chair and onto the saddle. It’s the corner stone that some of my best friendships and relationships are built. I have no plans on quitting my drug of choice any time soon. I am sure there will be a time I need to wean myself off it. For now I plan on getting strung out on my bike as much as I can. The addiction grows stronger every time I throw a leg over my 26” delivery system. Now where did I put my helmet?