I know, I know it never is. But this time, It really isn’t. After giving up the opportunity for two great rides this weekend, so as to have a go at this “proper parenting” phenomenon I’ve heard about, it became clear my pesky kids continue to sprout upwards in the manner of a certain pantomime beanstalk.
A woodsy ride – in which I must say both offspring showed the kind of skilled riding and lack of blubbing that suggests a paternity check may be in order – demonstrated Random’s 20 inch wheels have turned her into a BMX monster, and lanky Verbal is now too talk for the 24inch upgrade she’s been riding for a while.
So in that well trodden upgrade shuffle, Random is happy to have her sister’s cast off, and off to the shops we go for a new full size one. My purchasing rationale is based on frame size, engineering quality, component options and other such important stuff. Verbal cares not for such things, and wants only for it to be black. Or red. Or preferably both.
Frankly the options are bewildering, and I’m a bit out of the game since my pantheon of never ending new frames came to a dead stop last year. I’m over all that you see, have everything I need, no marketing guy is getting one over me. Oh no.
And then I saw that frame and started making excuses. Love hardtails, but the old lower back is giving me a bit of grief. Short travel full suss would do almost everything for me now, since the big away trips to scary places look unlikely to be repeated. A spot of middle age cosseting would not seem unreasonable for a man whose feeling a bit Bike-Mojo-Lite lately.
And then do them in custom colours. But like I say this isn’t my fault, I wasn’t looking for a new frame and I certainly won’t be buying one. I think we can look at my unblemished history in this area, and all agree on that at least.