Fewer Bikes, More Miles

The people I know that own few bikes do more miles than anyone else I know. By “few” I mean only up to about three, but that sentence doesn’t flow as well so I had to write this one explaining it.

The people I know that own a well-established, diverse collection of bikes with overlapping functions don’t seem to ride nearly as much. Not in all cases, of course. This definitely isn’t a natural law that I’m observing.

But the correlation is so strong that I can’t help but notice it. Personally, I’ve spent a lot of time concerning myself with how to get to some singletrack so that I can ride, and somehow argued myself into attempting to optimize that experience at any cost. I’ve had many mountain bikes, sometimes simultaneously, that all did pretty much the same thing. I would agonize over which one I was going to pick for a particular day and trail combination just so that I would be able to theoretically fine-tune the experience. After all, I don’t get nearly as much singletrack riding in as I’d like to, so my hope was to make the most of it given that I had to spend a bunch of time in a car to get there.

Of course, this doesn’t work at all. I kept choosing the same ride over and over and then wondering just what could have been had I picked differently this time.

Meanwhile, a few friends and acquaintances, who very clearly fit into the category of “Three or Less,” are out on the trail or road nearly constantly. I imagine that their inner monologue is about two seconds long when it comes time to decide what to ride.

I spent some time wondering what all this might imply. Seized with a general desire to downsize and honestly assessing the mountain bike collection I had amassed over the years, I realized I could let a bunch of them go – the situation didn’t call for them. I’ve been slowly parting with some I didn’t find myself using very much over the years anyway, and generally not replacing them, so it wasn’t that big of a stretch to imagine an even smaller stable of bikes.

So I’ve been offloading bikes much more quickly. It turns out that the correct number isn’t actually [n+1] as half-joking, half-serious gear enthusiasts self-depricatingly attempt to lead you to believe. Since I’ve never been in a situation where I had to say “Nah, my bike can’t handle that.” I figured the one I was most often on was going to do just fine.

Predictably, the unhelpful navel-gazing around ride choice disappeared and I was left with a very straightforward approach to my singletrack days. I was also left with more space, obviously. Somewhat unexpected was a general reduction in background stress, as I KonMari’d out the bikes that, deep down, I really didn’t care about. Not having to look at them as they forlornly gathered dust is a relief. Several of them were ultimately sold to people who wished to become more serious about cycling, and I know that one is now seeing hundreds and hundreds of miles per season, instead of maybe a couple dozen. That’s a pretty satisfying outcome!

Being left with a straightforward choice meant that getting out on the trail was easier and required less preparation. Removing any amount of barriers, even barriers I didn’t know existed, served to get me on the trail more. As I’ve been getting into road riding more and more this year, it’s been wonderfully easy to convince myself to use the only bike I own dedicated to paved work, even though it’s definitely got a rich set of limitations.

Why is this? Because the easiest decision to make is no decision at all. Removing even a few seconds of debate makes it easier to get on with the riding. After all, it’s easy to focus on one thing if there are no other things to focus on. In my case (I don’t speak for everyone, last I checked) that inner debate was causing a surprising amount of problems stemming directly from indecision and a sense of guilt about not riding a particular bike enough. I also discovered that in some cases the bike I owned stemmed from enjoying the idea of doing something with the bike instead of actually doing something with the bike.

This Minimum Bike Approach has a pretty hefty assumption baked right in: the idea that every cyclist’s end goal is to increase riding time as much as possible. I fully concede that there are other motivating factors, and one of those factors might actually be to have a large collection. I’m certainly not going to tell you that’s incorrect. One of my motivating factors is having a project bike around, something that I can reinvent roughly twice per year with parts I have laying around. I don’t do that much with it, but I enjoy the act of working on my own bike. Plus it keeps me reasonably good at maintenance work, which is a bonus given my minimum one hour travel time to the nearest bike shop.

But for those of us driven by increasing riding time, I put forth that the correct number of bikes is the bare minimum absolutely needed to cover your intended disciplines. That will free up an enormous amount of resources that you can dedicate to things peripherally associated with your bike(s), such as a trainer, some kit, tools, spare parts, etc…

I will concede that it is a little harder to get excited about a new jersey as opposed to a new bike, though. Unless it was a really, really good one, maybe.