Chapter 12: Becoming a Cyclist

“A titanium frame?” Dexter asked the salesman.

“Yes,” the salesman answered.

“Like they use on airplanes?” Dexter asked.

“Yes. Of course, the composite frame on this bike is better,” the salesman added.

“How much for this bike?” Dexter asked.

“It’s a steal at thirty-five hundred,” the salesman said.

“Thirty-five hundred! Who’s doing the stealing? You or me?” Dexter asked not sure that he heard the man correctly.

“It’s a high end sport bike,” the salesman said.

“Let’s go down a little in price,” Dexter said.

The salesman said, “We have this double-butted chromalloy frame and carbon fork ride, for only a grand.”

“Only a grand?” Dexter said.

“It’s a twenty-seven speed bike with grippy dual-pivot brakes for maximum control and stopping power. It’s a great bike for the city,” the salesman said.

“Twenty-seven speeds?” Dexter asked.

The last he remembered was that high-end bikes were 10-speeds. He wasn’t even going to ask about dual-pivot brakes. He figured that it meant he’d fly ass over head the first time the front wheel locked up on him.

“Yes.”

“Won’t you spend all of your time shifting gears?” Dexter asked.

“Getting the best performance out of a bike is all about gearing.”

A man about Dexter’s age came over and put a hand on the shoulder of the salesman.

“Harry, I’ll take this one.”

“Sure,” Harry said.

Harry walked away, looking unhappy. The older man watched Harry walk off. He sighed.

Dexter looked at the older man.

“I’m Jack, and I own this place,” the man said turning to look at Dexter.

“I’m Dexter.”

“I’m sorry about that. Harry tends to view bicycles from a sporting perspective,” Jack said.

“I think I’m a little lost, here,” Dexter said.

“These aren’t the bikes we had as teenagers,” Jack said.

“I didn’t understand a damned thing he said.”

Jack said, “You want a basic bike, to ride around the block and get a little exercise, right?”

“Right,” Dexter said, relieved.

Jack walked a couple of steps away and stood by a bike.

Pointing to it, he said, “This would have been our dream bike, when we were teenagers. It’s a good basic bike, by today’s standards. I think this is more along the lines of what you are looking for.”

“That’s exactly what I’m looking for,” Dexter said.

Jack said, “We’ve got a couple of bikes at this quality level. It’s really a simple matter of preference in color, style, and price on your part. You and I can’t really tell that much difference in terms of performance, and comfort, among the bikes here.”

“I like the blue one,” Dexter said.

Jack pulled the bike out so that there was some space around it.

“Straddle the tube.”

“What?” Dexter asked.

“Straddle the bike ... not on the seat, but over this tube,” Jack answered.

“Okay,” Dexter said.

Dexter straddled the tube wondering why he was doing it.

“Lift the bike’s front,” Jack said.

Dexter lifted the bike about an inch.

Jack said, “That’s a good fit. For this style of bike, you need one or two inches between you and the tube. More than that and you’re too big for the bike. Less than that and the bike is too big for you.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Dexter said.

Jack grabbed the bike to stabilize it.

“Get on the seat and put the pedal down to the lowest point in the pedal stroke. We need to adjust the seat height.”

Dexter sat on the seat and put his feet on the pedals. He started to push the pedals down. The bike tried to roll forward into Jack.

“Pedal backwards so the bike doesn’t try to move forward,” Jack said.

“Sorry.”

Jack examined Dexter’s position. “We need to move the seat up just a tad.”

“More than a tad,” Dexter said. “My leg is still bent.”

“You only want about eighty to ninety percent extension in your leg at the bottom of the pedal stroke,” Jack said.

“Oh,” Dexter said.

It seemed to him that getting a bicycle wasn’t that difficult when he was younger. All he had to do was pick one out that he could get on.

Jack smiled. “You’ll appreciate having the bike appropriately adjusted once you start riding it.”

“I guess,” Dexter said.

It took Jack a few minutes to get the seat set to the appropriate height. Dexter couldn’t really tell the difference. He figured that it might be important while riding it.

“Sit down on the seat. We need to check the seat position,” Jack said.

“Didn’t we just do that?” Dexter asked.

“We just set the seat height. Now we need to set it forward or backward, so that you have the proper line. Your knee should be aligned over your forefoot.”

“Oh.”

It took another minute to get the seat positioned correctly. Then they adjusted the position of the stem so that Dexter was in a comfortable riding position. Jack explained what they were doing while making the adjustments.

With Dexter still on the bike in his riding position, Jack asked, “Is that comfortable?”

“I guess,” Dexter answered.

“Well, let’s let you try it, out in the parking lot,” Jack said. After a pause, he added, “I figure you don’t have a helmet.”

“My kids were telling me that I had to have a helmet and pads, but I don’t think I need them,” Dexter said with a frown.

“You don’t need pads, but you do need a helmet. It’s the law,” Jack said.

“It’s a stupid fucking law,” Dexter muttered.

This was another case of the legal system passing laws to protect people from themselves. Maybe it was safer, but having laws dictate his behavior down to that point seemed excessive to Dexter. He had put at least two thousand miles on his bicycle when he was a kid, without a single injury.

It wasn’t the first time Jack had heard someone say that.

Jack said, “Wearing a helmet does prevent head injuries.”

Dexter said, “With the way that people walk around texting, I’m surprised that we aren’t required to wear helmets when walking!”

Jack laughed.

“I’m serious,” Dexter said.

“It’s not that bad,” Jack said.

Dexter said, “Yes ... it is.”

Jack knew it would be pointless to argue. He gestured to a wall with helmets.

“Pick one out, and try it on.”

Dexter looked at the helmets. They looked ridiculous to him. When he thought of a helmet, he thought of something one would wear on a motorcycle or playing football. These helmets had all kinds of holes or slots in them. He picked one up and pounded on it. There was a little foam inside the helmet. It didn’t look like much protection, to him.