Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night….

Rage, rage, against the dying of the full suspension Rocky Mountain ETSX-50, large size.

Alas, the ride today ended early, in tragedy. My trusty, well-loved, well-ridden bike is broken. Snapped at the gusset between the frame and rear suspension triangle. I was riding at a place called White Ranch, just north of Golden, Colorado, rolling along on flat singletrack section hidden in shadows. It was cold, but I was feeling fine. Bumping over a slanted pitch of rocks–not too rough or steep–I spun my rear wheel and clipped out of my pedals. My chain was stuck and I couldn’t move. And then I looked down, and saw the break:

The lower silver bar should be attached to the seat tube, about three inches down.

I’d bought my ETSX a few years ago off Craigslist, for $900–a totally great deal. My first full-suspension, it helped me grow from a timid, sometimes clumsy rider to a much less timid, much less clumsy rider. I love (loved?) this bike. I love how it rides, how it handles, how I feel so well-balanced on it. I love how cheap it was. I love that it’s black, and a called a Rocky Mountain.

I can’t really afford a new bike, or even a frame. I’m not sure what I am going to do. (Boohoo. Why did I ever create”crash and/or break” as a blog category? I doomed myself.)

Nothing lasts forever. Change is the only constant. Stuff breaks. Breaking (up) is hard to do.

The cliches are all so very true, and yes, I will figure out a way to ride. I have an old single-speed sitting in the garage, which I can ride, though it’s terribly hard riding. And yes, part of me is excited about the possibility of getting a new ride.

Tragedies, large or small: you can’t let them stop you. You must keep going. You must find a way to finish the ride, and begin the next one. Things won’t ever be the same. But that’s not a reason to stop.

You must endure. Ah, that old lesson I keep learning over and over again.

R.I.P.
Rocky Mountain ETSX-50