Words and photo by Christopher Klibowitz
It was my first “real” bike, bought not too long after I started working at the shop. It was between this and the Trek 6000. I really wanted the Homegrown, with the bass boat paintjob, but couldn’t afford it. The second day I had it, I fell over in the street in front of Shawn’s house, unable to clip out in time. I needlessly, endlessly upgraded that bike. Think Kooka cranks. Yikes. I rode it all over the state in the Wisconsin Off Road Series (WORS). The race in Green Bay was all mud. I did pretty well. The race in Phillips was really bumpy, but camping the night before was amazing. I never did as well as that muddy race again. I used to ride it to college classes, and lock it up with a U-lock, one of the ones with the circular key. Double yikes. After class, we’d go ride trails down by the river. I have a vivid memory of riding in a tight circle with a group out front of the dorms, waiting for someone. One of us crashed. I honestly cannot remember where this bike went. I’m sure I sold it, but how or to who… shrug. I was 19 years old, on my own for the first time and wanting to belong to something, to identify with something. Mountain biking, and that bike, changed my life. I keep a photo of it taped up inside my toolbox.
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