I can’t help but stare. The poor kid. Don’t they have a duty of care? The company his parents are paying to take him mountain biking I mean. Do they not check over every bike? There he is, riding up to certain doom, his nearly uncut center-mount kickstand shining like a silver beacon of neglect. 

A few moments later we roll up on his summer camp. Having a break. Most of the kids have laid their bikes on the ground. There are more rear derailleurs pointed up than down – a sign of good parenting or just a random moment in time? Ugh, and there it is. 

There’s that one rig. That poor Rocky Mountain Edge. Standing proudly upright with its kickstand in the dirt. Do I say something? I don’t have a tool to remove it. The kid doesn’t have a pack to carry it. I can’t remember the last time I even put a kickstand on a bike in a shop. There are racks everywhere. But fine, for your commuter rig, sure. 

On the trails? I’ve heard stories of rear mount kickstands dropping down and locking in place while people are riding. Digging into the gap between two rungs in a left turn. I’ve heard stories of center mount kickstands dropping down and getting hooked in the dirt. Digging into the ground in a left turn. I’ve seen a kickstand pop down going over train tracks  The rider going down, in the following left turn. Unexpectedly at some 30km/h. The road rash. One good bump is all it takes. 

We roll forward but it’s some ten minutes before I manage to move on from the intense picture in my mind. It was a Greenfield kickstand for sure. Or maybe a rip-off. Either way, someone has f*cked up here. It’s probably not the kid’s parents’ fault. But who’s to blame then? 

That night I’m sitting on my stoop having a whiskey imagining what it feels like to go around a corner and find yourself pivoting around your kickstand. Ugh. I probably should have said something. 

I can’t help but stare. The poor kid. Don’t they have a duty of care? The company his parents are paying to take him mountain biking I mean. Do they not check over every bike? There he is, riding up to certain doom, his nearly uncut center-mount kickstand shining like a silver beacon of neglect.