How The Golden Horse Saved My Life
After more than a year of traversing the San Francisco Bay on a bike that had been gifted to my close friend by his Grandmother at the age of twelve, I finally came to terms with a plain fact that I was beyond over-sized for this humble rig. Be it the frequent spoke breaks and tube blowouts or feeling my knees at level with the handle bars, all signs pointed toward seeking out a bike that would be more suitable for my lifestyle- and 200+ lbs of girth.
The Golden Horse was the first and only bicycle I sought out. Some would call it lack of due diligence- I call it destiny. After one cruise around the Inner Sunset District of San Francisco, we immediately fell for one another. As we finalized our new relationship, I learned that The Golden Horse had been born in San Diego. In jest, I made a comment that I would some day bring her back to graze her hometown pastures.
The first ride was glorious- we plummeted down Page street out onto Market toward the Ferry Building then galloped along the frisco bay on the Embarcedero like Josey Wales along the Edgar Springs of Missouri. In the coming weeks, our trails would lead us up the steep hills of Coit tower and eventually across the Golden Gate Bridge into the Marin Headlands where The Golden Horse would show me her true colors. Only when in the fresh open air and on highways nestled in jagged sea cliff did The Golden Horse and I sense that our journey together would be longer and more rewarding than simply getting to work and around the city. Upon the first climb up Hawk Hill in the headlands and eventually through the Tennessee Valley on up to Muir Beach, it became clear that the wild road would soon become our life's purpose.
Finally, the time came for the Golden Horse and my parents to meet, and to no surprise, there was instant understanding of the special bond we had. Even so, the folks weren't initially enthusiastic about us making the trek all the way to her hometown of San Diego, so The Golden Horse and I agreed to do some "test runs" up the Northern portions of Highway 1. It wasn't long before there was full support for our plight.
The Golden Horse is homeward bound.
After more than a year of traversing the San Francisco Bay on a bike that had been gifted to my close friend by his Grandmother at the age of twelve, I finally came to terms with a plain fact that I was beyond over-sized for this humble rig. Be it the frequent spoke breaks and tube blowouts or feeling my knees at level with the handle bars, all signs pointed toward seeking out a bike that would be more suitable for my lifestyle- and 200+ lbs of girth.
The Golden Horse was the first and only bicycle I sought out. Some would call it lack of due diligence- I call it destiny. After one cruise around the Inner Sunset District of San Francisco, we immediately fell for one another. As we finalized our new relationship, I learned that The Golden Horse had been born in San Diego. In jest, I made a comment that I would some day bring her back to graze her hometown pastures.
The first ride was glorious- we plummeted down Page street out onto Market toward the Ferry Building then galloped along the frisco bay on the Embarcedero like Josey Wales along the Edgar Springs of Missouri. In the coming weeks, our trails would lead us up the steep hills of Coit tower and eventually across the Golden Gate Bridge into the Marin Headlands where The Golden Horse would show me her true colors. Only when in the fresh open air and on highways nestled in jagged sea cliff did The Golden Horse and I sense that our journey together would be longer and more rewarding than simply getting to work and around the city. Upon the first climb up Hawk Hill in the headlands and eventually through the Tennessee Valley on up to Muir Beach, it became clear that the wild road would soon become our life's purpose.
Finally, the time came for the Golden Horse and my parents to meet, and to no surprise, there was instant understanding of the special bond we had. Even so, the folks weren't initially enthusiastic about us making the trek all the way to her hometown of San Diego, so The Golden Horse and I agreed to do some "test runs" up the Northern portions of Highway 1. It wasn't long before there was full support for our plight.
The Golden Horse is homeward bound.