I almost said that bikes are awesome, and they are. But I spent some time looking for cheap parts this morning, as reshuffling parts for Transiowa bikes has once again left other bikes bereft of parts and unridable, an ultimately perpetual state, methinks. The pursuit reminded me that, as fun as building bikes is, riding bikes is far superior, a potential state of bliss that occasionally I fear I am inadequate to.

However, I got out and rode hard for a few hours this afternoon. And it was good. I’ve got a few Transiowa training rides in the bag in the last week, and am thoroughly enjoying the return of the slowly persistent and inexorable burn of the legs which upon return to a warm and stationary house, migrates upwards to the cranium with dizzying effect. There is quite simply nothing like it, and I’ve missed its presence in my life.

Of course, the machine is also important, as I found out today when I climbed up into the south hills. There is actually a neighborhood up there south of town called “Mansion Heights.” Today I learned that it isn’t just a piece of the vernacular, they have a foreal sign up there! It’s a stunningly un-Montanan gesture. Yet I do like to call Missoula the northernmost city in Colorado (which along with insulting Double Haul IPA is a good way to pick fights in these parts), so perhaps it makes sense.

The thing is, Mansion Heights does in fact have a pretty righteous view. Which was relevant to me, beyond the outstanding views of Snowbowl and Stuart Peak, in that I had to go back down on my stupidass freewheeless bike. Spinning like mad at 20+ mph is something at which I need practice. I also need higher bars for more comfortable braking (the same thing that, the other year, caused Matt Chester to display that bent brake lever that be presented with priceless words I cannot recall). So, back to ebay for another 1″ quill stem.

Goridyerfuckbinke!