I used to be an avid mountain biker. I was clearing out my wardrobe over the weekend and found a bunch of old cycling clothes I used to wear. You can clearly tell how long ago I started riding mountain bikes by the loud, garish colours splashed across much of this old gear.
One lunchtime in the summer of 1990 - I was about 21 - I bought a mountain biking magazine out of curiosity. About two weeks later the same curiosity led me to buy a bike, a Marin Palisades Trail for about £350. Back then I remember having to explain to people what a mountain bike was, why it needed so many gears and, more to the point, why someone would spend so much money on 'just a bike'. In fact, £350 got you a pretty basic spec bike in 1990, with most of the componentry like brakes etc, being made of plastic rather than light and more expensive metal. But the 1990 Marin's looked really cool with their fluorescent yellow forks contrasting with an industrial looking matt grey finish on the remainder of the bike.
I lasted 2 years on the Marin before upgrading to a Kona Kiluaea in 1992, dragging my budget up to £650 although still some way short of the really serious money bikes found for around a grand. I loved the Kona even more than the Marin as it was a substantially better bike.
For a time I was a pretty hard core biker and early most Sunday mornings I'd load up the car rack, stop off at my friend Ken's place to pick him and his bike up and the two of us would drive the hour or so north out of Glasgow into proper mountain biking country to spend a good while riding up and down some amazing Scottish scenery. I also used to manage to ride two or three nights every week after work. Then around 1995 my job changed and I lost the flexibility to ride weeknights. Then I skipped a couple of Sunday's and before I knew it, I was a rider no more and well out of shape physically.
In 1997 I attempted to restart my habit and spend a couple of hundred quid upgrading the brakes and tyres etc. on my beloved Kona. About a week after doing so, some lowlife broke into our garden shed and nicked it. This actually affected me and I'm sure I had a mild case of post traumatic stress disorder at such a heinous violation. For a period of time I had frequent and recurring dreams about finding the bike and reclaiming it back.
Fortunately I was insured and discovered that I had a new for old policy. By 1997 the Kona Kileaua was selling for £1,000 and I was somewhat bemused to show up at our local bike shop to pick a replacement to that equivalent value. In the end I picked up a 1997 model year black Specialized Stumpjumper Comp, discounted from £1,300 to a grand.
In the eight years since, the poor bike's luck if it's seen 50 miles total. I've tried a couple of times to get back in the saddle and but my passion failed to ignite after single, laborious outings.
Having lost a few pounds in the last few months, I'm finding that my clothes don't fit, hence the clear out. Ironically my old biking clothes do actually about fit me (to be honest I didn't try the lycra shorts on, never a good look) and it was very weird to see myself wearing my purple cycling fleece again, complete with its early nineties Kona branding and flashes of colour scheme.
It profoundly recalled the great times I had and maybe caused something to stir inside, because later on Sunday evening I began trying to work out where I could take the Specialized to get it serviced locally.
And yesterday lunchtime, strictly out of curiosity, mind, I caught myself bought a mountain biking magazine. I don't know where I'd find the time to cycle as regularly these days, and there aren't really any good mountains in the middle of Englandshire, but you never know.
One lunchtime in the summer of 1990 - I was about 21 - I bought a mountain biking magazine out of curiosity. About two weeks later the same curiosity led me to buy a bike, a Marin Palisades Trail for about £350. Back then I remember having to explain to people what a mountain bike was, why it needed so many gears and, more to the point, why someone would spend so much money on 'just a bike'. In fact, £350 got you a pretty basic spec bike in 1990, with most of the componentry like brakes etc, being made of plastic rather than light and more expensive metal. But the 1990 Marin's looked really cool with their fluorescent yellow forks contrasting with an industrial looking matt grey finish on the remainder of the bike.
I lasted 2 years on the Marin before upgrading to a Kona Kiluaea in 1992, dragging my budget up to £650 although still some way short of the really serious money bikes found for around a grand. I loved the Kona even more than the Marin as it was a substantially better bike.
For a time I was a pretty hard core biker and early most Sunday mornings I'd load up the car rack, stop off at my friend Ken's place to pick him and his bike up and the two of us would drive the hour or so north out of Glasgow into proper mountain biking country to spend a good while riding up and down some amazing Scottish scenery. I also used to manage to ride two or three nights every week after work. Then around 1995 my job changed and I lost the flexibility to ride weeknights. Then I skipped a couple of Sunday's and before I knew it, I was a rider no more and well out of shape physically.
In 1997 I attempted to restart my habit and spend a couple of hundred quid upgrading the brakes and tyres etc. on my beloved Kona. About a week after doing so, some lowlife broke into our garden shed and nicked it. This actually affected me and I'm sure I had a mild case of post traumatic stress disorder at such a heinous violation. For a period of time I had frequent and recurring dreams about finding the bike and reclaiming it back.
Fortunately I was insured and discovered that I had a new for old policy. By 1997 the Kona Kileaua was selling for £1,000 and I was somewhat bemused to show up at our local bike shop to pick a replacement to that equivalent value. In the end I picked up a 1997 model year black Specialized Stumpjumper Comp, discounted from £1,300 to a grand.
In the eight years since, the poor bike's luck if it's seen 50 miles total. I've tried a couple of times to get back in the saddle and but my passion failed to ignite after single, laborious outings.
Having lost a few pounds in the last few months, I'm finding that my clothes don't fit, hence the clear out. Ironically my old biking clothes do actually about fit me (to be honest I didn't try the lycra shorts on, never a good look) and it was very weird to see myself wearing my purple cycling fleece again, complete with its early nineties Kona branding and flashes of colour scheme.
It profoundly recalled the great times I had and maybe caused something to stir inside, because later on Sunday evening I began trying to work out where I could take the Specialized to get it serviced locally.
And yesterday lunchtime, strictly out of curiosity, mind, I caught myself bought a mountain biking magazine. I don't know where I'd find the time to cycle as regularly these days, and there aren't really any good mountains in the middle of Englandshire, but you never know.