On my 10th birthday, 1980. Yes, that's a Ford Pinto in the background.
My first real bike was a Huffy Santa Fe 10 speed and it was awesome. My parents bought it for my 10th birthday. I'm sure they got it either at Target in Crystal or at the Holiday Super Store in Fridley.
Yes, it was a Huffy, a department store bike. I think it weighed about 40 pounds. The brakes were, well, a bit flexy. The rims were heavy steel. Sure, it was kind of a nerdy bike. But I was kind of a nerd.
Growing up in rapidly suburbanizing Maple Grove, my Santa Fe was my ticket to freedom. It meant that I could visit not just the 7-11 a 1/2 mile away, but also the Maple Grove Mall (très chic!) 2 miles away. I biked to Weaver Lake on muddy half-built subdivision roads and through Eagle Lake marshes where no ten-speed should go. I got a paper route and learned how to ride with two huge bags of newspapers on my back. These were pre-internet days, so I'm really not sure how I figured out how to shift gears, fix flats, and grease my chain. I mostly taught myself.
At 12, I somehow learned about the MS-100 ride and signed myself up. I went door to door through our neighborhood trying to collect enough donations to meet the $100 entry fee. My parents helped out a good bit too. I'd never ridden 100 miles in two days before, but it seemed doable. I trained by riding a 3 mile loop around our neighborhood every day.
The event organizers held a training session in Minneapolis where I learned about gear ratios and cadence. I got a cool bike cap. Afterwards, I installed some toe clips and took the suicide levers off my brakes. I felt like I was part of an elite ten-speed club.
Yes, it was a Huffy, a department store bike. I think it weighed about 40 pounds. The brakes were, well, a bit flexy. The rims were heavy steel. Sure, it was kind of a nerdy bike. But I was kind of a nerd.
Growing up in rapidly suburbanizing Maple Grove, my Santa Fe was my ticket to freedom. It meant that I could visit not just the 7-11 a 1/2 mile away, but also the Maple Grove Mall (très chic!) 2 miles away. I biked to Weaver Lake on muddy half-built subdivision roads and through Eagle Lake marshes where no ten-speed should go. I got a paper route and learned how to ride with two huge bags of newspapers on my back. These were pre-internet days, so I'm really not sure how I figured out how to shift gears, fix flats, and grease my chain. I mostly taught myself.
At 12, I somehow learned about the MS-100 ride and signed myself up. I went door to door through our neighborhood trying to collect enough donations to meet the $100 entry fee. My parents helped out a good bit too. I'd never ridden 100 miles in two days before, but it seemed doable. I trained by riding a 3 mile loop around our neighborhood every day.
The event organizers held a training session in Minneapolis where I learned about gear ratios and cadence. I got a cool bike cap. Afterwards, I installed some toe clips and took the suicide levers off my brakes. I felt like I was part of an elite ten-speed club.
The start of the MS-100 in 1982. Helmets weren't a thing. Neither was lycra. That's me in the middle.
The ride went from White Bear Lake to Saint Croix Falls. The first day was exhausting, but that evening I was kind of amazed I'd just ridden 50 miles. (It was my personal one day distance record all the way up until the Powderhorn 24 this past summer.) We ate spaghetti and slept on the floor of the St Croix Falls High School gym.
On the second day, I cut through some grass and hit a boulder. One of the support team riders stopped to true my wheel and said, "You know, if you're going to go on rides like this, you should really get a better bike." I was shocked. It had never really occurred to me that there were "better bikes". I resented the idea that my Santa Fe wasn't good enough.
His offhand comment had a pretty sizable impact. I never rode another MS event and didn't roll on another group ride until I found Joyful Riders in 2017. My bikes have always been pretty cheap and my riding mostly solo or with my kids. A lot of commuting, always valuing the utility of biking over the sport or the aesthetics. It's not that I'm cheap--well I am kinda--I just never had the desire for a top of the line high performance ride.
Have I been holding a grudge for 35 years? Maybe a little. And maybe it's time to learn to let it go. Objectively, the Santa Fe was kind of a crappy bike. Hopefully, I've learned to be careful about what I say to enthusiastic young riders.
In 1983 or thereabouts, my Santa Fe met its end when I crashed into the rear quarter panel of an AMC Pacer. I flew over the car, flipping head over heels. I'm pretty sure it was the nerdiest possible way to wreck a bike. (Another lesson learned: don't ride on sidewalks.)
The bike shop in Osseo said the Santa Fe wasn't worth repairing, so my parents helped me buy a low end Raleigh which served me well all the way through high school. Today, I'm still riding old 70s and 80s 10-speeds. So are my kids.
Thanks to my Mom and Dad for finding these old pics and scanning them for me.
On the second day, I cut through some grass and hit a boulder. One of the support team riders stopped to true my wheel and said, "You know, if you're going to go on rides like this, you should really get a better bike." I was shocked. It had never really occurred to me that there were "better bikes". I resented the idea that my Santa Fe wasn't good enough.
His offhand comment had a pretty sizable impact. I never rode another MS event and didn't roll on another group ride until I found Joyful Riders in 2017. My bikes have always been pretty cheap and my riding mostly solo or with my kids. A lot of commuting, always valuing the utility of biking over the sport or the aesthetics. It's not that I'm cheap--well I am kinda--I just never had the desire for a top of the line high performance ride.
Have I been holding a grudge for 35 years? Maybe a little. And maybe it's time to learn to let it go. Objectively, the Santa Fe was kind of a crappy bike. Hopefully, I've learned to be careful about what I say to enthusiastic young riders.
In 1983 or thereabouts, my Santa Fe met its end when I crashed into the rear quarter panel of an AMC Pacer. I flew over the car, flipping head over heels. I'm pretty sure it was the nerdiest possible way to wreck a bike. (Another lesson learned: don't ride on sidewalks.)
The bike shop in Osseo said the Santa Fe wasn't worth repairing, so my parents helped me buy a low end Raleigh which served me well all the way through high school. Today, I'm still riding old 70s and 80s 10-speeds. So are my kids.
Thanks to my Mom and Dad for finding these old pics and scanning them for me.
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