A paradoxical consequence of getting a new bike this summer was that I rode less after work. In the past I would often take a short ride before coming home. This summer, I continued to commute on my old bike. Each day, I would imagine that I would come straight home, change clothes so that I didn't have to ride in my mailman costume, and head out on my sporty new bike. In fact, as anyone might have predicted, I rode straight home, changed clothes into something appropriate for watching TV and then ate dinner. That pesky law of unintended consequences.
Now, however, it's icy in the mornings and the trail is covered with leaves, so I know I won't be taking my new bike out. Especially since the tires are inflated like a foil fish balloon at 35,000 feet*. So, today, I took my old ride through Russian Jack Park on my old bike. Riding my new bike was like driving a sports car. Fine, it's a mid-level Novarra, so it's like driving a Suzuki sports car, but still, riding my wide, knobby studded tires on my much heavier Cannondale was like dragging a sports car, maybe a Hyundai Tiburon. I was glad enough to have the studs on the slippery wet leaves, but they don't do much good when the surface they're digging into isn't attached to anything. This is exactly why you shouldn't build your house on the sand.
*An experience our family has been through, but feel free to make it your new overinflationary catch phrase if you want to.