I’m writing this introduction from my younger brother, Crash Test Kevin’s dingy garage. I’m changing the brake pads in his Formula Cura 4 stoppers. Did I say brake pads? I meant I’m swapping out his raw-metal backing plates for some sintered pads. I’m a bit cold, having just changed into some spare kit after a fairly wet ride. And, I’m alone, because CTK & Claire are hanging out upstairs drinking hot chocolate.
I can hear you unpacking the world’s tiniest violin as I type this, but hang on just a second. I’m not leading you into some sad story of woeful abandonment but rather quite the opposite. I’m grinning ear-to-ear, and not just because the rad wool socks my mom knit me are warming up my tootsies.
CTK and I have been mountain biking together since we were both teenagers and for only a slightly shorter period of time, he’s been bribing me to wrench on his rigs by means of his excellent taste in beer and acceptable taste in pizza. It’s a pleasure to say I’ve been swapping his seized bearings, straightening his bent rotors, and otherwise keeping his rigs rideable for over half my life.
But today was special. He was an awesome uncle leading his niece and nephew on a ride around his home trails. Claire was an ultra-patient and supportive big cousin projecting the best attitude about mountain biking. My nephew, Anderson, totally rocked it on the 20″ rig she used to ride. Shifting gears, attacking climbs, and getting over his fear or rock armoured roll-downs many times. Thanks to generous friends who upgraded their rigs, he’s even enjoying the gift of Guides.
Today was special because my secret, decades-old, plan to get my youngest brother to take up mountain biking – through all his passive resistance – is finally coming to fruition. CTK was an easy sell, UTS – not so much. That’s right, I just had to wait for him to have kids, put together a full-court press to get them riding, and he’d have no choice but to be dragged along! (kidding, I’m kidding…)
It’s simply not enough that Claire and Nina and I ride together. Nor CTK. I’m actively working to pull everyone into the two-wheeled sphere of influence. We’re making laundry. We’re wearing out brake pads. We’re learning how to lube chains, pump up tubeless tires, climb and descend gnarly roots, and pick ourselves up when we hit the deck. And we’re not stopping there, I have a niece who is next in line.
And who knew that mountain biking and lycanthropy had so much in common? Bikeanthropy – no full moon required (though night riding is a given). But here I am trying to infect everyone around me with a hunger that will last for multiple generations. All quietly reminding themselves that there’s “No bad weather, just bad gear.” Everyone learning when to attack a climb and how to surf greasy sections of trail, and to give a friendly hello to other trail users (even when you don’t get one back).
There’s a love of being on two wheels in the woods that’s both natural and learned. The sounds of the rain, accepting you’re cold but you won’t be forever, the nuance of dancing on pedals and finding traction when none should exist. Appreciating the hundreds of hours of work in every trail. And there’s something uniquely beautiful about sharing a passion for all those things with folks who are new to it, especially with your people, whether it’s kids or folks who used to be kids, even if they’re not yours but rather just borrowed for a time.