I have a love-hate relationship with my bike.
It’s fine, as bikes go. It’s a Cannondale “hybrid,” designed for roads and light trail use. It’s an extremely well-made machine, probably eight years or so old and pretty much maintenance-free except for the tires, which are wearing out. We bought a pair of matching bikes secondhand shortly after getting to Rutland from a touring company that was rotating out its older models, and they have served us well enough.
It’s got sturdy carriers front and rear (not shown in the advertising pic above) and I can get from home to work on it in less time that it takes me to drive to work and walk down from the parking deck. The boys are at an age where bikes = freedom, and Callum and I are going to ride bikes to school instead of drive-and-drop-off on nice mornings in the fall.
The problem is, I don’t really like riding a bike. The seat makes my ass hurt, there has to be a setting that doesn’t put too much stress on my old-goalie’s knees — which object to both the motion and the pressure on a bent knee involved in biking — and still lets me put my feet on the ground at stops without getting off the bike, but I haven’t found it yet.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m all for bike riding as exercise and bike commuting to save the environment and watching racing and all that stuff … only for other people. I guess that make me a NOMBS (No On My Back Side). Like a NIMBY, only more personal.