I was right out of college when I bought it. It seemed so sleek then, so lightweight, so, real. Like what a road bike should be. It was a far cry from the old steel department store road bike I'd been tooling around on. I financed it because I didn't have the cash at the time (I'd spent the entirety of my first paycheck on a guitar) and ended up paying on it forever. Or so it seemed.
I didn't care though. That bike changed my life. My first rides were so short I wouldn't even call them rides now. Five miles, seven miles, eight point three-five miles, they all seemed like great achievements. And for a guy who was in the process of figuring out what to do with his life (I still am) and losing 40 pounds (I've kept most of it off) I guess they were. Maybe that's why I like helping new cyclists so much - I remember what it was like for me starting out.
At some point I started calling it the Landshark. I don't know why. I watched way too many SNL reruns in college and somehow it just seemed appropriate. The bike was blue and - like the Landshark - not terribly menacing. But it also could surprise you from time to time if you let your guard down. It became a joke with some of my friends - as we'd pass each other in the paceline we'd often mutter "Candygram," "Mrs. Argsbarglerem...," or "I'm only a dolphin."
The Landshark and I spent 12,000 mostly happy miles together over about six years. We rode in at least four states, numerous charity and club rides, my first century and at least one sanctioned, competitive event. I made a lot of friends because of the Landshark both on rides and off. And when I wasn't with friends the Landshark and I worked out a lot of stuff on the road. Anyone who has really ridden a road bike will tell you that it can get boring sometimes. But it also gives you time to think, and often that's exactly what I needed. I went through two addresses, three vehicles, three jobs, adopted two dogs and got married during the time the Landshark was with me.
All was not beer and skittles though, as the Landshark and I had some rough moments. I remember having to dig deep on my first 50 mile charity tour (I honestly wondered if I would make it on the bike). I still have the scars from my first (and only real) bike accident. The poor Landshark has its share of scars as well. Then there were the days when I rode not because I wanted to but out of anger - making the Landshark my unwitting accomplice while I blew off steam.
You've probably guessed how this story ends. Six years is an eon when it comes to bike technology, and despite the TLC and a few upgrades the Landshark has grown long in the tooth. In fact, I replaced it about five months ago with a nice new full carbon bike and since then it has seen only occasional trainer duty - something too harrowing for a brand new carbon rig to endure. That's why this week the Landshark went on the great internet garage sale known as eBay. This morning it took the last ride we'll ever take together - packed snug in a box, ready to be shipped to its new owner. I hope the Landshark enriches his life as much as it has mine.
Meanwhile, I've already gotten pretty attached to the Landshark II.
