Notes from the Gruppetto

Trying to solve a conundrum that should be mathematically impossible

How I found out I had too many bikes

Recall the famous formula: n+1. Remember, it tells you the right amount of bikes for any rider. That variable, n, represents the number of bikes you have right now. Well, I might have found the point at which this formula breaks down. It might – now brace yourself for this news – it might be possible to have too many bikes.

This past December, I was heading up to my cottage with the family. There, I usually keep my second road bike, my cyclocross bike and my trainer for when the weather isn’t conducive to riding. With snow in the forecast, it was time to switch over to the trainer.

With my road bike i n the shop, I planned to use my ’cross bike for a bit of Zwift. I hadn’t ridden the bike in more than a year, but it should have been good to go.

Once I got to the cottage, I realized there was a problem with my CX bike: it wasn’t there. I searched the place – no sign. Now, I hadn’t seen it at home in Toronto. Admittedly, I hadn’t looked, being rather more focused on riding my gravel bike when the roads got dirty. How odd.

Next likely spot: maybe it was at Wheels of Bloor. I seemed to recall getting it serviced at that shop. Maybe I’d just left it there? I called up wob. “Steven, this may be an odd question, but have you had my Ridley CX bike there for the past year or so?” I asked. He checked around and reported back: no luck. They remembered me picking it up.

I have always subscribed to the n+1 theory of bike ownership. Being very privileged with the space to store bikes, the only restrictions imposed on my acquisitive nature have come from my long-suffering directrice sportive, my wife. In her wisdom, she graciously “capped” me at a set number of bikes. There are, of course, exceptions. The trainer bike at home is arguably not a bike due to lack of wheels. It therefore does not count toward my allotment. The bike stationed in Vancouver where I used to travel frequently for work does not count toward the quota due to lack of geographic proximity.

The n+1 formula seemed to function wonderfully in my life. Yet, somehow, I had lost track of my precious CX bike. I had dear memories of the rig. On that very bike, I came 12th at a local learn-to-race-cyclocross clinic. On that very bike, I tried to go on features at the local bmx bike park and shattered the down and top tubes earning a crash replacement. This bike and I – we had history. This was the bike I was saving for the day that my eight year old could start racing ’cross (minimum age required: 12).

Now, like a child you take to the supermarket and lose track of, the bike was gone. In this case, there was no paging system I could rely on to call for its return. Chastened, I returned to Toronto that weekend sure the bike must be in the house. No sign. Getting somewhat desperate, I contacted my father-in-law to see if I might have left a bike in his garage. No luck.

So, I realized that if you can lose a bike and not notice its absence for a year, you may have too many bikes. This realization set off a broader reflection. During this time, within our bubble of Canadian bike-racing privilege, we probably all have more than we need. We obsess over new gear: the latest stem, the most aero wheels, the lightest frame. Yet, for many, just having a bike and some kit is a revelation.

For many years, riders from Wheels of Bloor have gone on annual trips to Cuba. They’ve taken old kit and gear with them. Although 2020’s trip was off, there is still a transfer of stuff, with the help of Bikes for Cuba, to people who need it far more than we do. So this spring, if you are upgrading or getting some new kit, consider balancing the equation and sending old stuff to others who may appreciate it. While I wait for my bike to reappear, I’m going to find some old gear to pass along.

“This may be an odd question, but have you had my bike for the past year or so?”