One Ring to Rule Them All

Kick Ass Cogs and Pussy Riot to Freedom

Twelve years ago, I became an accidental single speeder, as in lower case a.s.s. The plan was, after purchasing the bike online during a can’t-say-no sale, to add the hanger and gear it out. Before doing so, I decided to take it out and see what the 1-gear ride might be like. That was in Indiana.

I fell in love.

I’m still in love.

Eight years ago, I decided to buy a new ring and cog from Endless Bike Co. in western North Carolina. With so many colors to choose from, I went with blue, about as “blingy” as I wanted to be then.

A few teeth missing and some wear-and-tear after riding that many years, averaging I’ll say 2-3 rides/week, led me to believe that The 1 Ring and Kick Ass Cog ruled them all. This time around, I was feeling the “bling.”

It slays demons and dragons telling you that you need an e-bike.

It slays the industry shill selling you too much bike.

It slays the years you’re adding by yourself to your “I’m getting old” mentality.

It slays lethargy and sloth and not trying hard enough.

It puts the fun back into mountain biking.

It transports you back to being a kid, like a time-travel machine.

It builds muscle and endurance with every turn of the cog.

It makes your smile bigger and it feels all the better.

It was a quick afternoon outing on local trails that are nothing to write home about, but they’re trails that help me get my fix. From up above, I could see the city skyline and the Pacific Ocean. Mixing in some hills and quick bursts up and over inclines, I was content by the end of it.

And I felt worthy of my new BLING factor. No doubt, I can pull it off. You should see me, well, if you can, as I flash by in a blur, a long tail like a shooting star of gold haze dissipating behind me.

Then we went to the Pussy Riot show. Riot Days blew my mind.

All jokes aside, if Pussy Riot comes to your town, GO. It will leave you speechless, other than possibly saying, that was fucking incredible.

Clever and important.

Down with the heteronormative patriarchal world order, you know, like what parts of the mountain biking community are like.

Fearless. Imprisoned. Hunger Striker. Trying to take down a tyrant.

And pedaling a bike for fun became even more of a privilege, in my mind.