Growing up, I wanted to be Cru Jones, the main character of the 1980s cult classic BMX movie RAD. I built ramps out of cinder blocks and plywood from West Virginia to Tennessee, hoping one day to catch my big break on the BMX circuit. But as my family settled down, the more communal sports of soccer and basketball took priority, and my dream of riding bicycle motocross for Rad Racing died.
Yet as Zach Bryan, Bruce Springsteen, and Imagine Dragons remind us in the most recent cover of Atlantic City, “Everything dies, baby that’s fact, but everything that dies, someday comes back.” In my case, the dream of careening down hills and launching myself off ramps came back 35 years later when I turned 46.
Last summer, after another ankle injury sidelined me from trail running, I decided to take up mountain biking (MTB). The MTB community is akin to trail running, as road biking is to road running —that is to say, it is scruffier, rowdier, and more focused on good stories than personal records. Having known some scruffy mountain bikers in the neighborhood, I inquired about where to purchase a bike, and the overwhelming consensus was Galaxy Bicycles.
