Every year I forget this blog’s anniversary, and it appears that I’ve done so once again. However, this time I’ve only just barely missed it, for it was on June 13th, 2007 that I first started typing words into it (or at least its precursor on the Blogger platform.) And I suppose it’s more fitting that I acknowledge it today rather than this past Friday, which was of course Friday the 13th, and therefore Bad Luck.
Anyway, this blog is now officially old enough to have to register with the Selective Service, so Happy Anniversary to me.
Whether you’ve been reading this blog from the beginning, or you’ve only just happened upon it, or you simply stop in from time to time, think to yourself, “Seriously, this guy’s still at it?,” and then go post about how sad that is on Reddit, I thank you very much for doing so–and for contributing, though of course you are in no way expected or required to do so.
When I started this blog, I wrote it anonymously, which was just fine with me. And even though I chose to drop the anonymity when my first book came out (at a certain point the Salinger/Pynchon shenanigans just feel pretentious), I’ve generally tried to avoid sharing too many details about my personal life. Sure, I’ll inundate you with all manner of excruciatingly boring bike-related tedium, but for the most part I do my best to spare you from such matters as plumbing problems or skin conditions or the all-consuming process that is negotiating with the cable company over a rate increase.
In this case however there’s a personal matter that is not only consuming a significant portion of my consciousness, but it’s also relevant to the subject of this blog. (To be clear, the subject of this blog is bikes, though I’ve been considering a pivot towards tips for negotiating with the cable company’s retention department.) And sharing it on my blog’s anniversary seems especially fitting.
One week ago, my longtime friend and riding buddy died after fighting cancer for several years. His name was Chris Long. This feels strange to type, since he was a private person, and therefore one of the last people I’d have written about or mentioned by name on this blog.
Nevertheless, Chris played an important role not only in my cycling life but in this blog, because our rides and our conversations informed a lot of what you’ve read here over the years. I always respected the way he rode, as well as his knowledge and experience, and he taught me a lot. He was older than me, and one of the smoothest riders I’ve ever seen, on or offroad. Until he was sick, I never saw him exhibit anything resembling physical distress, no matter how long or hard the ride. He was ecumenical when it came to bikes and cycling, but his real specialty was cyclocross, and if you rode in the New England or Mid Atlantic race series you probably knew who he was.
In a way Chris was one of those cycling ascetics many of us know: he worked, and he rode his bike. Anything else was extraneous–he stockpiled all his vacation time for cyclocross season, and he didn’t even have a smartphone until it became necessary to get one when he had to incorporate cancer treatments into his life. He was a far stronger and more dedicated rider than I was, but we shared a common disdain for (and propensity to laugh at) frivolity and gimmickry and stuff that was needlessly complicated and expensive. And as seriously as he took his cyclocross season, and as meticulously as he prepared for it, he was always up to ride just for riding’s sake, even with someone slow and lazy like me. We put in a lot of miles together over the years, and he was the person I rode with most often.
Chris was also an extremely diligent and fastidious mechanic, and was completely self-sufficient in that regard–he did all his own work, including building all his own wheels. Unlike Jörs Trüli, he had a serene work area, all his tools and components were neatly stored and labeled, and his many bikes were always spotless. Tidy rows of wheels and frames–years and years’ worth–hung on the walls along with race numbers and plaques and photos. There were (still are) even notebook binders full of catalogues and receipts for all his bikes:
I mention this because, in a final bit of irony, Chris has left it to me to handle all of this stuff.
Yes, me. The guy who hasn’t cleaned any of his bikes since like 2006, and who almost killed himself trying to wrap his bars with Newbaum’s:
So yes, I’m sharing all of this with you because I want to remember and honor my friend, even though he probably would have been extremely uncomfortable with my doing so. But I’m also letting you know that in the coming days and weeks you’re probably going to be hearing more about all this stuff as I work out what to do with it. Ultimately I intend to sell much if not all of it to benefit an organization or two, though how exactly that will happen I still need to figure out, and it’s possible I’ll even offer some of it here.
Anyway, thank you for indulging an uncharacteristically personal post, and for still reading this blog after all of these years. Make sure you enjoy every ride.
With Gratitude,
–Tan Tenovo
