I’m pedaling-paused on a popular multiuse trail. Having a Canadian stand-off with a large group of hikers. It’s the third properly massive menagerie of hoofing-it humans I’ve come across, including a pile of them trying to perch on a structure taking a group photo as I rode around a corner. All friendly.
“After you.”
“Oh no, please, after you.”
“Really though, I’m in no hurry.”
“Who’s in a hurry? It’s a beautiful day to be in the forest.”
“How about this lovely spring day at the start of March though?”
“I know, but would you believe I was bitten by a mosquito today?”
“Me too! Didn’t have my guard up.”
“Wow… you can balance for a long time!”
“Oh, thank you, I’m afraid track-standing is the only trick I know.”
“And, is that a double hardtail?”
“Indeed it is.”
“Okay, well we’d better keep on moving. Enjoy the rest of your ride.”
“Have a lovely day!”
“You as well!”
And I did, I did have a lovely day. At one point I stopped and lent an assist {a small assist, he did most of the work} to a fellow rider succeeding in pushing a decent sized blow-down off the trail. We fist bumped. Because, we’re rad.
In all, my time in the woods on Sunday was a bit humbling. Everyone in the trees was just so infectiously awesome today and to start out, I was n-o-t, not. The world hanging on my heart, I may have even grunted at the first person who said bonjour to me. My fault. Entirely. I was being a grumpy goose. A properly peevish Bérnache du Canada. A sulky sky carp. A harshly hissing cobra chicken.
But hey, I managed to turn my frown upside down with the helpful happiness of my fellow travelers. Normally I don’t go out when the forest is quite so full {choosing to ride much earlier in the day} but Claire was visiting a friend who has two beyond adorable kittens and I went out to make hay and absorb some of that beautiful day*. And between the ravishing rays of sunlight and the friendly faces everywhere I came around.
*{Oh, and also to take some photos of a nerdy new handlebar, and way to talk about handlebars, that I’m trying to write about – drop by on March 11th if you’re curious.}
Anywho, the first time someone called my truculent V2 a ‘double hardtail’ my friend Mr. Lungstatic and I spent the rest of our ride laughing about it. We had caught a group of riders and as the graceful grandpa danced past on his Kona Big Unit single-speed one of them called out “NICE HARDTAIL!” And as I stomped by after, trying with all-my-all to hang onto power-pappy’s rear wheel, the same said rider exclaimed “NICE, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, DOUBLE HARDTAIL!”
The initial novelty wore off fairly quickly after that. All of a sudden, after having regularly ridden rigid since 2001, other folks I’d never met started referring to my rig as a double-hardtail as well. I mean, I suppose if you know what a hardtail is, and you see a rigid bike, it sort of makes sense? It has proven to be an interesting way to tell if someone is a mountain biker even when they’re not in uniform.
Unlike my other simple choice, there’s a certain delight in the tone of folks who recognize the rigid fork. Usually it’s mirthful, sometimes a mix of jocularity and inquiry. Sometimes my rig prompts a found memory of a past rigid rig – Explosif, eXpresso, Hammer, Accu-Trax-ed Ultimate, MB-Zip, etc.
You know, whereas when folks notice I’m on a single-speed they usually look at me like Jerry Willows just Agent Smithed into their bodies {#JerryWillowsHatesMyBike}. Yep, there’s a big difference in average tonality between “Is That A Double Hardtail?” {Yay!} and “Is That A Single-Speed?” {Ugh!}.
It’s double hardtail delights, even for folks who aren’t in the 50,000:1 riding club.
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