I feel like a heel…. like a drama-llama, a pity-sponge, someone call the waaah-mbulance, for even putting any of this up here. Like it should be kept on private, why let the whole frakkin’ internet & biking community see how tore-up my life is.
Screw it.
I have to say this, coming back to read and make a reply to all the offers of helpful thoughts and prayers is something that I had promised myself I would [i:2g4lb3nu]not[/i:2g4lb3nu] do.
I’ve been hunting constantly for a way to wrap my brain around the loss of my Nomad, and the end of my life-plan including making any sort of career in the bicycle world. I’ve tried applying logic and being pragmatic about it all; which then turned to my trying to just be my normal cynical self and blow it off by making light of it in my own way. And lastly I’ve tried to just forget…. which actually has had the opposite effect.
So far, my family, the VA head-shrinkers I’ve talked to, and the few of my "friends" (whom I’ve known for over a decade at least & can still contact, though they never reciprocate) I’ve tried explaining this to…. simply do not have the faintest grasp of the kind of anguish losing that damn bike is causing me. Every time the advice I get commonly boils down to something like this; "It’s just an inanimate object, you’re too attached to it, just forget about it.", or "Don’t worry, you’ll get another bicycle and then you’ll feel better.", to "Just give it some time, work at getting back in the groove of things, and your passion for it will come back."
Look, I know everyone is just trying to help me feel better and get me doing something that makes me happy again, but every time I’ve tried explaining that it wasn’t just a ^+*#)$!ing normal bicycle and hobby. It wasn’t just a damned prized possession like someone’s favorite car, or even like a beloved family pet.
Originally, yeah, the mountainbikes I owned before were prized possessions, and riding was just my newest favorite pasttime. But when I decided to reenlist in the Army, and that I would use my reenlistment bonus to buy that Santa Cruz Nomad, it was all part of my ultimate plan that would lead my life until retirement…. and it was the one and only damn thing I’ve ever discovered in my life that I loved doing enough so that even as a job, I could live & work on bikes until one day I died with a spoke-wrench & wheel in my hands, and not feel for a second that I should’ve done something else with my life. Going to Barnett was the first step in making a life out of my failed run in the Army, and I have this knack for doing all things bicycles, which made me think I could make a go of it regardless of the other screwups in my life….. but that dream endo’d and ate $!!t just as it left the gate too. Even when my wife divorced me; which took a huge chunk of happiness & left a big hole in my life’s plan, I still weighed that loss against the fact that I’d still have my bike and my passion for them (which was shared by so many friendly people), that the hurt of being alone would be bearable.
That stupid bicycle was so much more to me than just me "dream bike". That damn POS kinda became my best %*#^#$’ed friend; when I lost the emotional and intimate portion of my life, it took me away from the numbing loneliness which consumed my life just sitting at home. I could just look at that dumb inanimate object sitting there and SEE the potential it held for me (literally & metaphorically)…. that without it I wouldn’t have ever discovered what I truly wanted to do with my life. And through the miracle of cutting-edge mountainbike technology I could actually ride it and not only save on fuel money (important when one is un-hireable), but I wouldn’t be in agonizing pain afterwards. Riding around on that bike (and later my Klunker) actually had enormous physical theraputic value; it kept my muscles from balling up into horrible knots, the nerves from being aggravated by so much inactivity, relieved stress, etc.
Even IF, by some miracle, I found & was offered a steady job at a decent LBS….. being around all those beautiful reminders and people still able to embrace their own passion for riding, would only make me miss my friend that much more…. and probably make me incredibly jealous. And it’s not as if that on a part-time (or even full-time) shop-monkey’s minimum wages, I’d ever be able to afford another Nomad (or comparable full-suspension bike of it’s caliber). That’s why it just pisses me off even more when someone suggests that I just go out and buy a cheap bike. My body just can’t handle riding a cheap bike, or any kind of normal hard-tail. Hell, I’d even be happy to find an old klunker or used cruiser-bike (like the Nirve), so that I could put one of those suspension seats/seatposts & big fat wide tires on it, so that my back would be able to take the occasional pothole or even eventually short off-road excursions. Actually, come to think of it, converting another cruiser into a Klunker like my Nirve, with just a few changes from last time, would make me a lot more at ease with things. BUT…. I’m still faced with the fact that after so many years wasted & not having a clue of what to do with the rest of my life, and finally having found that one thing……. I got nothing now, and won’t ever have that opportunity again. But worst of all is I lost my friend….. which is yet another sad life commentary, ‘since the few decent people I knew who swore to be loyal friends no matter what time or distance or circumstance…. every single one of them has forgotten their word & discarded me. That’s why I’m so angry about just a stupid mountainbike, and why I can’t just let time distract or heal things.