When I first started racing I bought a used mountain bike that was a piece of junk. It was old and beat up and I constantly had problems both during training and racing with the gearing. I sucked it up for a year or so because that was all I could afford at the time, but when it became obvious that this adventure racing thing was more than a passing fancy, I sprung for a new bike.
I bought a womens' specific Gary Fisher Tassajara. I LOVED that thing. It wasn't top of the line, but compared to what I had been using it was love at first sight. As I continued to accumulate gear for biking, and orienteering, and climbing, and paddling (in addition to all the clothing needed for hot weather racing, cold weather racing, wet weather racing) my love affair with Gary continued. I moved from platform pedals to spd's. I moved from brake pads to disc brakes. I played around with bike lights for night riding, and bike computers for measuring speed and distance. Bought a new womens' specific seat to better cushion where "the girl meets the bike" (but still got badly bruised in many races anyway). Added other Shimano parts over time, and through it all me and my bike spent endless hours riding technical trails filled with rocks and roots in all weather conditions.
Over the next couple of years my Tassajara served me well. I had a $600 bike and was racing up against sponsored folks riding $6000 bikes, but I didn't care. I loved racing and I loved my bike. I rode that bike day and night, in every kind of weather imaginable, and in every kind of terrain imaginable. I pushed it uphill for five straight hours in W Virginia. I slept beside it in ditches on the side of the road. I lifted it up over my head so that my team-mates (who were standing atop a huge boulder) could haul it up and onto the rock. I fell asleep while riding it a couple of times in Virginia and South Carolina. I taco'd the front wheel during a weekend training in N Georgia (was riding down a rocky, leaf covered trail and didn't see a log on the trail - tried unsuccessfully to swerve around the log at the last minute - did a slow motion endo over my handle bars and bent my front wheel almost in half). I've had male team-mates pee on the drive chain so that everything would unfreeze long enough for me to be able to change gears, have had pedals that were nothing but blocks of ice, and a back wheel that refused to spin because the space between the wheel and the frame was filled with mud and snow. After every race I would take my bike into the shop back home and Mike-My-Bike-Mechanic would fix whatever I had broken on Gary.
And then one day I was driving back to Tennessee from a Virginia race and hydroplaned in the rain. I was OK, my truck was totaled, and my bike was in two pieces. With two sons in college I wondered how I was going to be able to afford a new mountain bike. I stuck with my road bike for a month or so and then one day my two sons approached me. They had both received their income tax refunds from the part time jobs they were working, and together had decided to pool their money and buy me a bike. I was deeply touched. I raised good guys.
Mike-My-Bike-Mechanic was the one who suggested my current bike. Actually - he suggested the frame. It was cheaper than buying a whole new bike, and Mike could transfer all my upgraded components onto the new frame. And that's what I did. I bought a GF Marlin frame.
So now I have a Marlin frame and Tassajara (and Shimano) components. I call it my Tassamarlin and it's a one of a kind. And just like my previous bike, I have put this Tassamarlin through hell as adventure racers are apt to do. It's an old bike now, but just like an old dog, you don't discard it just because they have gotten old. I love my bike. We have been through a lot together, and he is still always up for a ride whenever I want to head out.
I bought a womens' specific Gary Fisher Tassajara. I LOVED that thing. It wasn't top of the line, but compared to what I had been using it was love at first sight. As I continued to accumulate gear for biking, and orienteering, and climbing, and paddling (in addition to all the clothing needed for hot weather racing, cold weather racing, wet weather racing) my love affair with Gary continued. I moved from platform pedals to spd's. I moved from brake pads to disc brakes. I played around with bike lights for night riding, and bike computers for measuring speed and distance. Bought a new womens' specific seat to better cushion where "the girl meets the bike" (but still got badly bruised in many races anyway). Added other Shimano parts over time, and through it all me and my bike spent endless hours riding technical trails filled with rocks and roots in all weather conditions.
Over the next couple of years my Tassajara served me well. I had a $600 bike and was racing up against sponsored folks riding $6000 bikes, but I didn't care. I loved racing and I loved my bike. I rode that bike day and night, in every kind of weather imaginable, and in every kind of terrain imaginable. I pushed it uphill for five straight hours in W Virginia. I slept beside it in ditches on the side of the road. I lifted it up over my head so that my team-mates (who were standing atop a huge boulder) could haul it up and onto the rock. I fell asleep while riding it a couple of times in Virginia and South Carolina. I taco'd the front wheel during a weekend training in N Georgia (was riding down a rocky, leaf covered trail and didn't see a log on the trail - tried unsuccessfully to swerve around the log at the last minute - did a slow motion endo over my handle bars and bent my front wheel almost in half). I've had male team-mates pee on the drive chain so that everything would unfreeze long enough for me to be able to change gears, have had pedals that were nothing but blocks of ice, and a back wheel that refused to spin because the space between the wheel and the frame was filled with mud and snow. After every race I would take my bike into the shop back home and Mike-My-Bike-Mechanic would fix whatever I had broken on Gary.
And then one day I was driving back to Tennessee from a Virginia race and hydroplaned in the rain. I was OK, my truck was totaled, and my bike was in two pieces. With two sons in college I wondered how I was going to be able to afford a new mountain bike. I stuck with my road bike for a month or so and then one day my two sons approached me. They had both received their income tax refunds from the part time jobs they were working, and together had decided to pool their money and buy me a bike. I was deeply touched. I raised good guys.
Mike-My-Bike-Mechanic was the one who suggested my current bike. Actually - he suggested the frame. It was cheaper than buying a whole new bike, and Mike could transfer all my upgraded components onto the new frame. And that's what I did. I bought a GF Marlin frame.
So now I have a Marlin frame and Tassajara (and Shimano) components. I call it my Tassamarlin and it's a one of a kind. And just like my previous bike, I have put this Tassamarlin through hell as adventure racers are apt to do. It's an old bike now, but just like an old dog, you don't discard it just because they have gotten old. I love my bike. We have been through a lot together, and he is still always up for a ride whenever I want to head out.