I recently attended my first bicycle convention. Held at Portland’s Zidell Yards, the MADE gathering showcased handmade bicycles and bicycle components from makers and artisans. As my friend S likes to point out, all bikes are handmade, but this was a showcase dedicated to the small business owner and independent craftsman, as far as I could tell. I mean, Chris King seems kind of big to me, but maybe I’m mistaken. Me being mistaken is kind of the point of this whole diatribe.

I managed to wrangle a media pass because I sometimes contribute my rambling missives to The Cycling Independent, a 5-star online cycling-and-cycling-adjacent publication. It turned out I didn’t need the media pass because Greg Heath of Donkelope Bikes, who crafted my custom BMX dirt jumper, was also present, and requested the loan of my bike for his display. This granted me use of an exhibitor pass for the weekend.

So here’s the thing: I have six bicycles at home, a Giant Trance mountain bike, a cheap Fuji road bike (that I love), an all-around-town Kona Rove, and three BMX bikes: a Supercross cruiser, a Chase race 20” and the aforementioned Donkelope 20” dirt jumper. Do I know the first thing about any of them? That’s an emphatic NO. I mean, I know how to change a tire, and I can take my BMX race bikes apart and put them back together for travel, but beyond that, I have no idea.

I take them all to a shop for maintenance. If my Kona and road bike are beyond me to maintain, my mountain bike is an enigma wrapped in a riddle. I wouldn’t know the first thing about maintaining a full suspension bike. I don’t even understand the mechanics of that. If absolutely anything goes wrong with that thing, it goes to Metropolis Cycles (shout out, you awesome people at M!), and I pay them whatever they want to sort it all out.

Here’s the part real cyclists would probably find most egregious: I don’t care. You hear that, Ghost? I’m admitting my dirty little secret. I don’t give a shit about bike maintenance. I don’t give a flying fuck about bike components. I know when I think bikes are pretty, obviously, but beauty is in the eye of the beholder. BMX bikes are the apple of my eye, and even then I don’t really care. I would expire from boredom if someone tried to explain any other kind of bike to me.

The point of bikes, to me, is to ride them. I get that some people are very mechanically inclined, or have a deep desire to maintain their own bikes and learn about every tool available to that end. I mean, I get being that interested in your ride at the most basic level, because I’m enamored of BMX bikes, and I need to know how to travel with them and fix a flat on the fly. But I’m niche, and those bikes are very simple. I like sexy BMX components, but I don’t actively invest in them. My custom BMX came with the beautiful Odyssey components that the builder thought were worthy. I own one Onyx hub on the rear wheel of my 24” cruiser race bike. Would I spend $460 on a single front hub for that bike, or $700 on a pair for any other bike? Doubtful.

I get that if I want to go on group rides, I need to learn to change my own tire. I have learned that process, and I know how to change a bike tire. But if I do go on a group ride and get a flat, I’m holding up the parade while I fumble my way through something I’m not good at doing because I’ve had very little practice. Don’t invite THAT chick back…she’ll just fuck the ride.

You know what’s easier? Not going on group rides.

I’m in constant conflict between loving cycling and generally not caring about bikes. It’s one of the things that keeps me from calling myself a cyclist. Walking around at the MADE show, I saw hundreds of thousands (millions?) of hours of thought and sweat and effort put into bicycles and bicycle parts, and I felt like I was the only one wearing sweats to the costume ball. I appreciate those efforts from the standpoint of artistry and dedication, and I admire beauty as much as the next average Joe. I can also safely say that the finer points, hell, even the coarser points, are lost on me.

The high points of the MADE show for me: VeloOrange’s green all-around-town bike with the BMX handlebars – those white knobby tires are a class act, and the beige grips have the same effect on that insanely beautiful sage green as they do on my winecherry Donkelope. Speaking of which, Donkelope’s beautiful custom gravel bike with the blue sparkle paint was an absolute stunner.

Haute Bicycle company’s light bronze gravel bike was a sight to behold. I love bikes with low top tubes, they are easy to get on and off and make me feel safe, which should tell you exactly what a terrible bike rider I am. Breadwinner and Ira Ryan’s creations bore me to tears, which probably means they are absolute perfection. Kudos to their paint people, nice color combos.

And so that’s my confession, Ghost. I know it’s kind of terrible, but there it is. I’m not mechanically inclined, nor do I know the first thing about my bikes, nor do I care in the least. I’m going to avoid group rides, change tires on my own terms and in my own time, and I’m going to keep riding, always. Always moving forward, always loving my BMX’s, always eschewing anyone who takes it too seriously. And I’ve learned an important life lesson: I can’t to go a bike show without feeling like everyone knows that I’m a bike impostor.

Apropos of nothing, are you single and a bike mechanic? DM me. Or call me (waggles thumb and pinky)…I’m GenX, after all.