Riding up to the redlight, I couldn't take my eyes off the brand-new Porsche Turbo 2 in the car lane next me . As I admired the well-polished shine, I thought of an article I'd read recently, flaunting the car's razor-sharp handling and breakneck acceleration. "If only I were driving that car," I thought to myself, $115,000 price tag in mind. As I pulled alongside, I glanced through the jet-black tinted window. The driver, clad in suit and tie, was screaming into his cell phone. I wasn't surprised until our eyes met for a brief moment. Across his face were looks of awe and envy. Here I was, upset with the traffic lights, impatient on getting to my favorite trailhead, irritated with the fact that I had to ride my mountain bike on the asphalt -- and this rich guy was jealous.
The light soon changed and our paths separated. As I made it to my destination, I thought about my morning and my life compared to the businessman's. I was flowing through the hills, screaming down steep descents and around tight singletrack; the guy in the Porsche was most likely still in traffic, still arguing on his phone and dreading another day at work. The mountain bike has given me a deep tan, well-toned legs, a healthy heart, and a stable, sound mind. The businessman's high-paying job has probably rewarded him with high blood pressure, carpal tunnel syndrome and the need for a weekly couch session with a top-dollar psychiatrist. His jealousy became clear: In a way, I was the wealthier. After all, his super-chic Porsche Turbo had to be rounded up, just like all the other cattle, from gate to gate in gridlock traffic.
As cyclists, we've all made a decision. We've made the choice to take care of ourselves and enjoy life. We're portrayed in countless advertisements, from deodorant to pickup trucks. The reason? We represent a healthy, independent lifestyle. The sense of freedom and adventure we experience as we ride is something money can't buy. This feeling can only happen when you swing a leg over the toptube, clip in and take off.
