Devinci's Last Ride
It might violate the image I’ve cultivated, but there was a time before Ornoth was a cyclist. Let’s set the wayback machine to the previous millennium…
In the late ’90s, I had a two-mile commute across the Charles River from my home near Fenway to work in Kendall Square. Having learned that taking the train took 45 minutes and the bus took 35, I decided to try getting to work using an old Fuji road bike from college, which had somehow followed me through five moves.
During my ensuing commutes, I discovered the freedom and efficiency of navigating the city by bike. I cut my commute in half, got a free workout, and enjoyed the relaxation that comes from a morning or evening ride along the riverside. That is, until I sheared a pedal bolt in half.
By then I was riding regularly enough to realize that replacing that old Fuji would serve me better than trying to repair it. So I ordered a Mongoose hybrid from L.L. Bean, which worked well until it was stolen.
By that point I was really enjoying riding, and thinking about doing a long charity ride; I was committed. After some looking around, I picked up a new blue and white 2000 Devinci Monaco hybrid from a bike shop in Newburyport.
The next year I would put 3,400 miles on that bike and ride it through my first two-day, 192-mile Pan-Mass Challenge charity ride. In fact, it was my companion through my first five PMC rides, gifting me with 16,797 miles of joy and beauty.
On a practical level, that bike supported my transition from an occasional two-mile commuter to a committed endurance rider. It helped me become a serious cyclist, and to learn what equipment would best suit me. So five years later, with the Devinci showing some signs of wear, I did the research and graduated to my first real road bike.
The Devinci saw occasional use when my road bike was in the shop, and served as a commuter during the icy and snowy winter months. But for the most part it sat forgotten and unused in my back room for the next eight years.
For four of those years, the item “Ditch the Devinci” lingered somewhere on my to-do list. And this afternoon… its time had come.
I wiped the dust off the saddle, filled the tires with air, checked out the rusty mechanicals, and saddled up for its last ride: four miles down the Southwest Corridor bike path to the headquarters of Bikes Not Bombs, a charity that takes old bikes and does what they can to refurbish them and move them on to appreciative owners in underdeveloped nations in Africa, Latin America, and the Caribbean.
Despite the Devinci’s thousands of miles and years of wear and neglect, BNB accepted it enthusiastically. I signed the paperwork and walked back to the nearest train station, leaving a huge piece of my cycling history behind.
But it would be really remarkable if-after so many years-the Devinci could serve someone who needs it far more than I do. If anything, my final ride convinced me that its steel frame could still cover plenty of miles if given a good dose of mechanical care. After all, the tires still remarkably held air, the gears shifted, and the brakes worked.
However, after coming home, my back room feels awfully empty now. Although it was mostly just taking up space and collecting dust for seven years, the Devinci was also maintaining an emotional link to my early years as a cyclist, when I was learning so much, and first captivated by the beauty, utility, camaraderie, and sheer joy of riding.