Hop, skip & a flounce away from fantasy role playing.

Ouch. Here is the thread that broke the camelbak. Check the comments section to see an assessment of me and (more cogently) YOU as basically a pasty nerd. Apologies to all gamers out there, but I think I could take you.


With our underdeveloped arms and massive tree trunk legs, we've all seen the comparisons to T-Rex. But this stung me on a deep, prepubescent level. Cuz, that's when I dabbled in the dark arts of Dungeons and Dragons. For about 18 months I feverishly made detailed characters whose charisma was only exceeded by their strength, intelligence, and hit points levels. Yes, I cheated- I rolled again and again, until I got the score I wanted. Jack, the weird kid with the blond bowlcut who was heavily into Tai Kwondo ( and who would've pronounced it KARA-tay if he could), was the Dungeon Master. He clearly relished the power. He was also the only one in my neighborhood circle who was capable of the tightly focused obsession required to really lord it over a bunch of distractable 11 year old boys ( herding cats & all that). I quickly realized (after a year or so and having purchased the 6 sided die, the 8 sided die, the 20 sided die,The Player's Handbook, The Monster Manual, and (extra-pointlessly) the Dungeoon Master's Guide) that what I actually liked about the whole thing was reading about the monsters and drawing pictures of my characters. Got all the gear, didn't need or play with much of it. At least there were lots of pretty girls...oh, wait.

So here WE (yes YOU) are all this time later. I won't even attempt to patiently explain my/OUR completely understandable and rational quiver of bikes to a nonbiker. And I mean quiver, with all the elven magic that implies. See, I/YOU need a road bike, a cross bike, a mountain bike (some even need full squish and hardtails in this one category), a beater townie (bar bike...used to be you could count on your barbike fixxie to remain safe out side the Last Dollar Saloon, or that at the very least you'd find it laid down at the corner with some blood- and hopefully teeth puddled around it...now with the current {welcome in many ways} resurgence of fixed gears you gotta lock it, or it'll end up in Shandoka parking lot. Again.), nice townie, LSD fix, cross fix, utilty/cargo bike, and I'm sure I've let some slip but YOU understand. And, as a bonus, there's lots of pretty girls in the bike scene...oh, wait.

So. While I don't really need all those bikes, I like having them. YOU know the reasons... And it's not really like the list of D&D gear, but...it's not too far off. Ouch again. But one real difference lies in the usage. I just really lik to ride. Hopefully, another difference is that I/YOU are not lurking around the intraweb looking for opportunities to jump down someone's throat for saying "paint" where it's really "powdercoat" or not knowing the latest spec on suspension part #87.4002b from company X. Or worse, working in a shop and being condescending to people who come in wanting help getting their ride on. Those are instances we've all seen, and it's lame. HEY all you bike shop dudes- be nice. Yes, you know more, and yes the customer is a rider. No one person knows everything- except maybe Sheldon Brown. I say this having been a bike shop dude for ~9 years on and off. Anyway, at some point, I realized I don't lik riding with a pack. I mean a Camelbak. A sweaty, mangy ( maybe that's just me) pack full of astronaut food, and self righteousness?I'd rather cram a bunch of real food in my woolen pockets and head out on whatever bike I happen to be riding. Which I'm going to go do now.