First day of spring. Really!

The ground is still smothered in a layer of snow, but, although it has been a cruel March, things are bound to change for the better.

And that means it's time for the annual "back in the saddle" lecture.

Spring is a time when many people decide to get a new bicycle, or dust of and repair an older one they already own. Either way, they are often faced with a substantial expense. To make sure that you get the best value for your money, and the best use of your bike, consider the following.



What type of bike?

The question "what is the best bike?", is still best answered by "it's the one that's best for you". Think about how you intend to use your bike. Are you a recreational rider, and plan to use your bike occasionally in nice weather, or will you depend on it for your daily commute or errands? Do you have to cary children or cargo? Is your commute very long, or do you wish to combine biking with transit? Do you prefer a lightweight, speedy bike, or is comfort a more important consideration? Do you need a bike that has to serve two or more distinctly different purposes? Where do you plan to store your bike?

With the exception of very specialized types of riding, most bikes can be successfully adapted to most urban riding styles. However, these questions, and many others, will help you and the salesperson you are working with, zero in on the features that are most important to you, and help you select the most suitable bike for your particular needs.

Fix the old or buy the new?

If you already own a bicycle which is in sound condition, fits your shape and riding style, and generally offers you enjoyment, the best thing you can do is get it tuned up and keep riding. We can also adjust minor fit problems  through relatively inexpensive alterations.


You should consider a new bike if the one you own doesn't give you what you want. A racing frame that is too big is never going to be made shorter; a mountain bike might be frustratingly slow on a long commute; a comfort cruiser won't let you keep up with your fitness-riding friends.


If your bike is very worn or in total disrepair, chances are the cost of a thorough repair would exceed its value (except any sentimental value, of course.)

Does the bike fit you?

As a rule, bike manufacturers make several frame sizes of each bike model. Those sizes are based on certain assumptions about the rider's size and proportions, and these assumptions tend to correspond to a male physique more than the female. Men generally have proportionately shorter legs and longer arms and torsos than women. Therefore, if you are female, or a male who falls outside of the "average" build, you may need to modify your bike to achieve better fit.

There are several aspects of bike fit:

• Standover height. This refers to how much clearance there is between your body and the top tube of the bike, as you straddle the frame with your feet flat on the ground. There should be 1.5 to 2 inches of clearance. With some road bike frames, you may be able to get away with a tighter clearance, but you should not buy a bike that presses into your body as you stand over it.
• Seat height. When you have found the correct frame size, adjust the seat level. When seated, only your toes should be able to touch the ground. If you can plant your  feet firmly when seated, the saddle is too low, and you will strain your knees. When pedaling, only the ball of your foot should rest on the pedal, and you should only have the slightest bend in your knee on the downstroke.
  (An important exception to this rule are "flat foot" and "crank forward" bikes available from select manufacturers, which are designed to allow you to put your feet down while seated.)
• Extension or reach. This refers to the forward reach from the saddle to the handlebars, and affects how upright you will be while riding. It can also be the hardest part of fitting a bike. Women often find that when the frame size and seat height are correct, the extension from seat to handlebars is too long. Some men feel that a frame that gives them enough stand-over clearance doesn't provide enough extension. 

  Fortunately, these problems can usually be solved through minor alterations, such as replacing the existing handlebar and/or stem, and manipulating the seat adjustment. The cost of such adjustments depends on how extensive they need to be, whether you are buying a new bike and swapping out parts, or modifying a bike you already own.
• Frame geometry. Some people have a hard time getting a good fit on a particular type of bike. In that case, you may consider another brand. Different manufacturers offer slightly different frame geometries, and you may have better luck. You may also try a bike from a different category (eg. comfort hybrid instead of "urban" hybrid). Rider position -- and your comfort -- can vary quite a bit from one type of bike to another.

We are used to anonymous, self-serve shopping.
There was a time when, before you purchased any garments, you had to strip down and get measured for fit. Although this may have been a fine idea, and many people ended up with well-fitting and flattering garments, most of us today would find that intrusive, unnecessary and time consuming when shopping for everyday clothes. Self-serve shopping, and certainly on-line shopping, is convenient, fun and economical for a whole slew of items.
However, certain specialty products don't lend themselves well to self-serve buying. Like bicycles.
And the very fact that a successful purchase of a well-fitting, comfortable and appropriate bicycle requires the active and engaged participation of a skilled and competent salesperson may scare off some novice buyers.
At Rapid Transit, we strive, and are generally known for, having friendly staff and a non-intimidating shop atmosphere. But the fact that we are a specialty store may be enough to discourage not all, but certainly a good portion of prospective novice buyers from ever setting foot inside and finding out what we are really about.
Let me illustrate with a real-life example.
I've never had any formal musical training of any kind and never played a musical instrument. But I love to sing, and a couple of years ago, I decided to take guitar lessons so that I could strum along while singing. I needed to purchase an instrument. With encouragement from a friend who is a musician, though not a guitarist, I paid a visit to a specialty guitar store.
Let me be perfectly clear: without my friend's company, I would never, not in a million years, have set foot in a small specialty guitar store. More likely, I would gotten someone to help be buy a used guitar. Or I would have gone to the music equivalent of a sporting-goods superstore, where I could still maintain a degree of anonymity.
The question is, why was the prospect of shopping at a dedicated specialty store, which turned out to be staffed with caring and able counselors, so paralyzingly intimidating to me?
For starters, it is often difficult for us as adults to admit that we are new at something. Particularly if that something requires years of intensive practice to gain any type of mastery. You feel like you're breaking into an enchanted circle of the initiated, only you haven't earned your stripes yet. You may have to ask questions that reveal this lack of knowledge and experience. Or you may not know what questions to ask at all, what to look for, or what reasonable expense to anticipate.  You may be drawn to something aesthetically, only to find out that it is much too expensive, too technically advanced for your needs or abilities, or otherwise unattainable.
To top it off, many specialty products, including guitars and bicycles, are tricky to display in a way that encourages touching, trying, and side-by-side comparing that many novice buyers might prefer. To try a bike, for example, you may have to openly discuss aspects of your physique with a perfect stranger, who may be fitter, younger, taller, or a different gender from you. So, even testing these products requires a level of commitment that people new to the process are unwilling to make.
Additionally, many excellent specialty stores naturally become gathering spots for the committed enthusiasts. So, musicians hang out at music stores, bikers at bike stores. And, while they are hanging out, they may chat with the store personnel about topics or in a jargon that to the uninitiated may sound like a foreign language. So while this community building is a wonderful, desirable and precious thing, it may actually create an additional obstacle to a novice taking first steps toward becoming a participant.
Are there stores in any specialized field that reinforce those novice buyer fears? No doubt there are.
But my point is, that even those that do not, have to struggle with the perception that many novice buyers carry with them.
As a bike shop, we want to foster the relationships we've built with existing customers, many of whom have become dedicated cyclists. At the same time, we want to help grow biking, and for that, we have to reach beyond the ranks of current cyclists to those yet uninitiated.
And, somehow, we have to let those uninitiated know that there is no secret handshake. No prior knowledge is required or expected. There are no wrong questions. All you have to do is express your desire to start biking, and we will welcome you into the enchanted circle, because you are helping it grow.

This from our official, umm... sign painter:

"I will be finishing the back wheel today. Tomorrow, we should be able to hang it. Friday plan: Home Depot, get tall ladder, chains, hardware and lamps to replace all the outside flood lights.

Then we Hang em' High!!!!!"

I'm not much of an off-road biker.

Many years ago when Chris introduced me to the idea of riding a bike off pavement, my participation had more to do with my enthusiasm for him and the prospect of marriage, than with the sport itself. And while I engaged in some thoroughly enjoyable off-road-lite recently, it's fair to say that, left to my own devices, this would not be my top activity of choice.

In fact, I've had so much on my plate lately, that the only activity I eagerly looked forward to this New Year's Day was a solitary winter hike on one of my favorite trails in the Dunes. I was hoping that a five-mile vigorourous tromp through a frozen landscape would help me focus my thoughts and and zero in on the really important things, and find a mental plane where I could commit to them. Otherwise, I feared, I would begin the new year with the same mental chaos with which I ended the previous one.

It was with the deepest misgivings and reluctance that I consented to participate in the NYD ride at Palos with my husband and guys from the shop. Though the weather was quite chilliy, I wasn't worried about getting cold. My concern was that I would be doing more walking than riding. After all, I'm nearly old enough to be some of those guys' mom, and what they consider rock-and-roll trails, I consider quite intimidating.

It didn't help that we began our journey on a section of the trail dominated by numerous log jumps. Even on the Necromancer, I wasn't up to hopping over log ramps. Before I had a chance to get properly warmed up, I got toally winded getting on and off the bike to get over the obstacle trail, and then pedaling furiously, on tires three times as fat as anyone else's, to catch up with our group. I did catch up with the guys at the next parking lot, and I rode on ahead of them to gain a little distance.

Once my heart rate and breathing returned to something resembling normal, I began to notice my surroundings. The air was crisp and sun-drenched, bare trees allowing glimpses of a frozen lake. The ground felt solid, and the fat tires rolled deftly over roots, logs, rocks, and makeshift ramps. As my confidence in the bike to carry me over the obstacles returned, I started to relax into the descents and allow myself to build momentum, so the climbs became more doable.

Eventually, our group passed me again, but I was not longer concerned about keeping up. I wasn't really worried they would lose me. We got into some sections of the woods that featured some very entertaining curving up-and-down sections, and then into Gravity Cavity, which was definitely fun and not nearly as scary as it sounded.

Here and there I had to put my foot down. Heck, there were some places where I put both feet down and marched. Two thirds into the ride, I started to feel fatigued, and the climbs became frustratingly challenging. But I couldn't really stop, and so I kept on at my own pace. And invariably, a discouraging climb was followed by a breathtaking descent, when the springy-elbowed sense of flow returned, and I banked the bike into the turns thinking, hell this is fun.

Needless to say, I didn't have a spare moment to devote to prioritzing my life and refocusing my brain. I did, however, take away a few points about doing things with commitment.

• Activities that require commitment are hard. If they weren't, commitment would not be required.
• To maintain commitment, we have to believe that we have the ability to complete the task. For example, if the entire ride consisted of the log-jumping sections, I would have given up after the first ten minutes.
• Commitment requires sticking with and pushing yourself over tasks that are not easy. This part is not enjoyable, and this is where commitment is most likely to falter. But this is also precisely the point at which we get the wind back in our sails. Without methodically and slowly slogging up the steep banks, I could not feel the thrill of the happy descent, the feeling of being in control enough to let myself get out of it, revelling in my new abilities.
• This is also the point where it helps to have a support network. If I had to find my own way out of the woods, I would probably do it simply because I had to. But I think my motivation would be primarily fear and sheer determination. The security of riding with a supportive group made it easier and even enjoyable to get over the frustrating parts, and actually relish my accomplishments.

And sometimes, when we get stuck on a problem that we can't solve, the best solution may be to try to solve a different problem. Chances are that if I had gone on my hike, I would try to dissect, analyze and perhaps even reaffirm my inability to commit. The ride proved that I am, in fact, capable of commitment.