Beginnings

I am acutely aware that not everyone wants to hear about cycling all the time, so I try to make a point of keeping conversations in mixed company from focussing on it. One night, at a lovely dinner party at a friend's place, someone I hadn't seen in some time casually asked if I was still riding much. I tried to answer politely without too much detail. The next question was if I had more than one bicycle. I indicated that perhaps, yes, I did own more than one bicycle. My darling wife Anita, who is as sweet and lovely a person as you will ever meet (and who has never really complained much about having bikes in her living room, dining room, kitchen, foyer...) overheard this bit of conversation and then loudly blurted out "You and Your Damn Bikes!" in the most accusatory voice imaginable from across the room.

A moniker was born. Anita no longer refers to my bicycles as "bikes". They are cheerfully refered to as "damn bikes" at all times. When I ride solo in mountain bike races, she suggested I be called "Me and My Damn Bike" which I have done on every occasion except when "Anthony is a Homer Sexual" superceded this tradition. But that's another story.