It was a hot summer day in 1956 on a sandy cotton farm near Shamrock Texas.  I don’t remember where the bike came from, but I was just tall enough I could reach the pedals.  There were no hills, driveways or slopes of any kind—this part of Texas is flat as a pancake—except for the storm cellar.  The roof of the cellar is just a pile of dirt maybe 4 feet high, but it had enough slope to get the bike rolling with some forward momentum. I pushed the bike to the top of the cellar, climbed aboard and got a push.  Little did I know how far that first push would take me!

My cousins and I spent hours pushing one another down the slope, and we’d coast to get balance, then try to pedal as far as we could. I learned to balance and steer.  I’m sure I fell hundreds of times, but always got back on, because that few seconds of speed and freedom was such a jolt to my young system.

I was in love—riding a bike was definitely going to be a part of my life.

I went through a series of bikes as I was growing up, including a “British racing bike with 10 speeds”, a 20-inch bike with banana seat and hi-rise “monkey bars” (no way my parents could afford an actual Schwinn Sting Ray), and an old beater bike I threw my paper route from.

No matter what size or shape, as long as it had two wheels, it represented the ability to move myself from one place to another, and I usually went as fast as I could.  I had some spectacular wrecks along the way, and still have a few scars from those early days.  But I always got back on the bike.

I got a car at age 15, and bikes were just un-cool for a while.  Then I started running in my early 20’s, and started looking for a way to cross-train. So began my road-biking phase (more about that later).

Skip ahead three decades: In 2005, my orthopedist took one look at an Xray of my knees and stated: “You are no longer a runner—you need to become a mountain biker”.   Yep, he was a rider, and encouraged me to do the same.

Pretty soon I had mountain biking buddies and we went riding a couple of times a week.  I’ll share more stories about those guys in future blogs, and the journey we’ve been on since.  They are, in part, responsible for this website.  I’m at least ten years older than all of my riding buddies, and they have taken to calling me a canary.  “Like a canary in a coal mine, when Dan drops, we’ll know that’s how much longer we’re going to be able to ride.”  So of course, my goal is to ride absolutely as long as possible just to show ‘em I can!

Seriously, mountain biking is an absolute joy for me. It’s been mental stress relief at times, and has been a driver in improved health all the time.  The thrill of speeding down hills and the challenge of climbing up the other side is just as exciting for me today as it was all those years ago on the storm cellar.

Come on this journey with me. We’re going to share a lot of stories,  what’s working for me,  reviews of equipment, some things you want to avoid,  and more. Hopefully you’ll share too.

Hope to see you on the trail soon, and for many, many years to come.

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The Beginning

It was a hot summer day in 1956 on a sandy cotton farm near Shamrock Texas.  I don’t remember where

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