The Stoke is an occasional opinion series highlighting the things that get us stoked about mountain biking. 🤘 👍 👏 🙏
TIL that in 2025 the average passenger vehicle on the road in the USA was 14.5 years old. Though I can’t say how old the average mountain bike on the trail is, it’s certainly much younger than that. Based on our own surveys, most riders buy a new mountain bike every 3-5 years. And new bikes are great! The technology changes rapidly, and I would argue today’s bikes are a better value than they’ve ever been.
And yet there’s something special about riding the same mountain bike for half a decade or more. New bikes, like newborns, are a lot of work. There’s always a fussy break-in period with new frames and components, and it takes time to get the fit right so your body isn’t feeling cranky after a long ride. If you have kids, you know that five can be a fun age, and the same goes for a dialed and familiar bike. It’s not until about age five that kids — and bikes — really start to develop their personalities.
My Orange P7 hardtail is going on seven years old at this point, and if I had to pick, I’d say it’s my favorite bike in the shed. No, it’s not the most capable bike I own, or even the one I’d say is the most fun to ride. In fact, it gets ridden less often than my other bikes.
No, I think the P7 is my favorite because we’ve been through a lot together. For a time, it was my only mountain bike, and I rode it everywhere, just like a trail bike should be ridden. Then, as I added a full-suspension bike, and then another, the P7 became my long-distance partner, ferrying me and my gear on bikepacking trips across Florida and Arkansas. After countless experiments and modifications over the years, it’s the bike that fits me the best, and it’s become my reference point for every new bike and test bike I throw a leg over.
And then there are the memories. Like the time we came across a rock show taking place in an overgrown and abandoned waterworks facility in the woods. Or when we rode for three days straight through the clouds and rain, and I vowed we would never bikepack again. (Like any good partner, I think the P7 knew I was bluffing.) Mostly, my blue steel hardtail makes me think of Tuesday night rides, full of shenanigans, pizza, and beer with friends.
A big part of finding the right long-term bike partner is dating around and then being selective about who you ultimately choose. Buying a bike is a commitment, both financially and emotionally, and it shouldn’t be done on a whim. Buy right, and your frame will last for many years, and should serve you well through upgrades and repairs. After all, good bikes, like good relationships, require maintenance.
Of course, it’s hard to hold onto a bike forever, especially when adding a new bike to the quiver. But hold on, don’t sell that bike! You wouldn’t sell your five-year-old, no matter how bratty they get, would you? OK, well, sometimes that’s tempting, but I’m here to say you shouldn’t do it.
Looking back, I don’t think I’ve ever sold a bike. That’s mainly because by the time I’m done with a bike, I’ve eeked every last bit of value out of it. But it’s also hard to put a price on a relationship, even if that relationship is with a hunk of metal and rubber. For me, freely offering a beloved bike up for adoption is the way to say farewell, but not goodbye.
Nearly 80% of Singletracks readers report they still ride at least one mountain bike that’s 6 years old or older, so I’m probably preaching to the choir here. In a culture that seems content with disposable purchases, it’s satisfying to be a part of a group that values and cherishes machines that can go the distance. That are designed for the long haul. That bring the stoke, year after year.
Sure, I’ll probably add another bike to my stable within the next few years. But it won’t be a replacement. I love these kids too much to give one of them up.
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