Of mountain bikes and money

 In the recap of my Secret Squirrel adventure, I mentioned that my used race bike cost $430, although, given my placing and lack of close competition either ahead or behind, "race" might be a less apt descriptor than, "go really hard for two hours".  And I did go hard.  Sure, it's been awhile since I raced events like that, but to memory, my pace wasn't that far off what it used to be.  Certainly, the riders have gotten faster, and my helmet is off to them for the efforts they've made reaching those speeds, but also, the bikes, I suspect, are contributing as well.

Part of me is a Luddite, but I'm also fascinated by technology advances.  Despite my degree in English, I have always been a techie person, having started my matriculation in an engineering program, and after many years teaching math, eventually found myself working mechanical design for a train motor testing company.  My business card read "engineer" despite my lack of formal educational credentials.  I like tech, and yet, I also tend to step back and ask, are these "upgrades" really making people's lives better on the whole?  To that end, you might notice that you are reading this as a long-form blog post rather than on this year's best flavor of social media platform.

In the fall of 1989, I bought the bike on which I would ride my first races and win the first New England point series as a junior.  It had brakes that pushed against 26" rims, no suspension, weighed over 26 pounds, and at $900 as a year-end closeout, it was top of the line for it's day.  It couldn't hold a candle to a similarly priced bike of today, but back in 1991, it was winning races.

OK, $900 doesn't buy nearly as much of anything today as it did in '89.  In fact, an inflation calculator told me I'd need just over $2000 to possess a similar value in our modern world, so maybe mountain bikes have actually become more financially accessible over the last 33 years.  Yes and no.  For around $1000, a hardtail now comes with disc brakes, 29" wheels, 100mm of competent front suspension, and can ride quite well, despite likely weighing 20% more than my old bike.  But racing is where this whole line of reasoning falls down: $1000 is now considered entry-level versus my old race-worthy rig.  Even a quick search for inflation adjusted $2000 mountain bikes returns results like "budget bike comparison", and it is hard to race on a budget.

But what if that wasn't the case?  Sure, the adolescent employment option of a newspaper route won't be coming back as long as the bytes are flying, but there are still lots of kids out there working basic jobs, saving for something they really want.  For some, that might be a mountain bike, and for a further subset of those, racing might be a goal as well.  Let's say this lass or lad amasses roughly $500 for a seven year old bike, to pick an age completely not at random (I'm riding a 2016 model).  Would that bike be competitive against one that some other kid's parents bought for ten times that amount and is lighter, stiffer, fully suspended, and in every way objectively faster?  That's a pretty tough handicap to overcome, especially starting out, when our youngster doesn't have the ego padding of ten regional championship titles.

But again, what if?  Bike racing has traditionally created categories based on age and experience.  This made sense in the sport's earlier days, because a bike was pretty much a bike.  Today, a bike is still just a bike, but that could mean it cost over ten thousand dollars and is packed with gadgets, gizmos, carbon fiber, and even an on/off switch, and I'm not even talking e-bike.  Technology makes a difference.  So, what if  bike racing categories started to look like those in motorsport, where the equipment is part of the classification.  We already see some of this with single speed and fat bike categories, but do we really want to promote junior racers mashing a big gear up hills?  And fat bikes, they certainly don't lower the cost of entry.

So, here are few ideas for racing classes:

1. Fully rigid class: Come on, you knew I'd say that.  Good suspension is really expensive, and cheap suspension really isn't good.  In the early 90s, I was working in a bike shop, and people would come in with $100 looking to buy the latest thing: a suspension fork.  I'd talk them into clipless pedals and shoes for the same amount (yes, I've since learned how effective open pedals can be) on the grounds that a $100 boinger would actually make their riding experience worse.  Restricting suspension from some race classes could drastically reduce the cost of competitive equipment, while also forcing riders to hone their bike handling craft in the extreme.

2. No carbon fiber class: Again, yeah, you knew.  Carbon is amazing.  It's light.  It's stiff.  It'll make you more attractive, but even the material with the greatest strength-to-weight ratio since sliced bread has it's limitations.  Have you noticed that many manufactures that always offered a lifetime warranty on their frames, now have reduced that to five years for carbon?  Makes that deal on a seven year old carbon fiber race bike look a little dubious, no?  Carbon is just too expensive for our imaginary, budding junior racer.  Also, as someone who is riding to races as a way of advocating that bikes are a way to lessen transportation's impact on our climate, I have to point out, if my aluminum frame ever breaks, it will still have value as easily recyclable scrap metal.  Carbon fiber ends it's life as landfill.

3. Minimum weights: At various times, USA Cycling has implemented a maximum gear restriction for junior racers with the idea of protecting their developing bodies.  What if, there was also a minimum weight as well?  Seems like an easy way to costs down.  The bike I raced at Secret Squirrel weighs 26 pounds with no suspension or extra equipment.  I'm guessing most of the fully suspended rigs it lined up against weighed less.  As a racer who always got by on low body weight rather than huge power, I  understand this restriction would impact smaller riders more, but it could easily be indexed to frame size or rider height, and if testing was limited to those who podium, it wouldn't too greatly encumber race officials.  Scale and tape measure technology are readily available and cheap!

Again, I don't hate high tech bikes.  The fact is, suspension and other advances have made mountain biking more accessible by lowering the experience bar to when it actually become fun to negotiate the woods on a bicycle.  Also, I need to acknowledge my contributions to the issues I've raised.  I used to get paid to race a mountain bike, and that means some portion of the cost of every product sold by my sponsors was making it's way into my bank account.  I was making mountain bikes a little bit more expensive, but hopefully also making them little better with R&D feedback.  And yes, that was for those dastardly full suspension bikes, which I rode as early as 1992.    

So, these are just a few ideas, and maybe none of them are THE right solution, but let's start the conversation.  If enough of us raise the issue, it might even reach the ears of those who make decisions about what bike racing looks like.  And who knows, maybe if we make this sport more accessible, enough people will join, driving down costs with economies of scale, and then we can all have great bikes on the cheap!