1992

The space shuttle Endeavour flew her maiden voyage. Dan Quayle gave his famous Murphy Brown speech. Bosnia and Herzegovina proclaimed independence from Yugoslavia. Nirvana replaced Michael Jackson at the top of the Billboard charts.

Johnny Carson retired, Jay Leno took over, and I bought a bike.

I lived in the near-south neighborhood, and walked every day past a bicycle shop on my way to work. (Was it on 13th street? What shop would that have been?) I was fully-employed for the first time in my life and was (relatively speaking) feeling flush with cash. I made an impulse purchase: an off-the-rack Giant Prodigy: TIG-welded chromoly steel frame, 700C wheels, Shimano 400CX components,...zzz...*snore*... Sorry. I get narcoleptic fits talking about bike specs.

While others around me have gone through bikes like Imelda Marcos through shoes, this is still my only ride today, sixteen years later — albeit slightly morphed into a towny/commuter bike.

My commute to work has shortened from 6 miles to 3 blocks, though, and so my time on two wheels is almost entirely recreational. On Sunday I took the salt creek levee trail south to wilderness park and, without hesitation, rode the whole loop on this old beast. It was my first time ever on those trails, and this bike was not at all suited to those conditions.

But it was a shit-ton of fun to have to constantly remind myself to keep my eyes on where I want the wheel to be — and now I have 29er-fever.

Should I, or shouldn't I?