Bike Urban

Logic?





















Medic!





















Awww!

All Images ©2010 Clay House Publications, LLC

Saddle Soar

Discoveries are made in odd ways. In this case, it was an over the handlebars revelation.

It was only after the event unfolded that I saw something in a way I'd never seen it before. I didn't see it with my face in the dirt, of course, nor while out there on the trail, consciously at least. But later. When I allowed my eyes to see. To really see.

I was sprawled there momentarily, face down trailwise, taking a quick inventory of various body parts. One after another responded in the affirmative. My helmet was packed with dirt, but better that than my head. My nose had a buff of trail scrum. I cleared that off without incident. I stood up. That worked. Good so far.

See it?

Body in order, the bike became my focus of attention. The first thing I found as I cast my eyes about was the saddle itself, the soft cushy part at least, downhill, crouching in the dirt like a furtive rat. I moved my gaze uphill to the bike proper. There lay my Epic straddling the ravine, with the discomforting skeletal remains of its saddlelessness shining back, all glistening steel and provokingly sharp ends.

With about eight more miles of trail to ride, hill after punishing hill, those rails didn't look inviting.

I retrieved the saddle, its proboscis broken near the front. I've been known to use duct tape to repair all kinds of things, but I don't carry it with me while riding. Let's face it, you could carry your whole tool kit on a ride and the one tool you needed would be the one left back in the garage. I tried to reattach the saddle in a makeshift way. I remounted the bike with the saddle flopping on the rails and attempted to ride, but it gave me a couple of nice pinches as it bounced around, snapping my skin between leather and metal. If I arose, the saddle bounded right off the bike. This wasn't good.

I dismounted once more and found a way to get the rails to slip into a couple of slots on the base of the saddle. It held, but the nose was still free to wander and the pinching continued if I didn't take care. I took care as best I could.

Broken Nosed Rat

Five pinches later I made it back to the car and eventually back home. I pulled the bike out of the car. The saddle, yanked free from the rails, was trying to hide, rattily hunkered down behind a wheel well, its long broken nose just peeking out. But still firmly attached to the bike were those rails. At that moment I saw the graceful form of a beautiful stag.

It touched something deep down. Real deep. When I'm out riding and all is going well (unlike days like this when the crash reveals my fleshly limitations), I'm that flying stag. The trail and I are one.

I Been There, Leaping Free

Then I started thinking, maybe I need a saddle that matches my spirit. I thought of myself as that wild rider on a palomino flying with the wind on the wide open prairie--only on a mountain bike palominoie kind of thing. (With dual-sus it is possible.)

So now that I'm in the market for a new saddle, eschewing any thought of my usual duct tape repair job, I've cast about for something with a little more style.

Maybe you can help me. I've narrowed down my choices, but I'm having a hard time deciding. The first choice is a clean-lined saddle not unlike those you might find out west on that wide open prairie. It's brown and sleek with nice pinch-free thigh protection, and I can just toss it over the top of those rails, strap it down and ride, ride, ride.

(Photo courtesy Montanabw)

But then another saddle caught my eye. I looked at it and thought, now this has a European flair. This is something Tomeke, Jens V, Fabian C, or Julian A might toss their legs over for their own epic rides. It even looks a tad Spanish, so maybe it would make me feel like Alberto Contador, that pelotonian matador.

(Photo courtesy David Straub)

This is a tough one. My Epic is a stark contrast in black and white. Maybe it's time to give that steel mount a bit of color, a touch of style. What do you think?

................................oRo

©Clay House Publications, LLC