The Old Guy Bicycle Blog

Quick Take: After tens of thousands of miles together, I sometimes wonder what my bicycle would say if it could talk. What would I ask it about the miles we have shared, and what would it want to know about me? These are the five questions I would ask my bike—and the five questions I think it might ask me. Cyclists often say they have a special connection with their bike—that it becomes an extension of their body, their will, and maybe even their spirit. After enough miles together, I think there is some truth to that. But what if that bond went one step further? What if your bicycle could actually talk back? I started wondering what kind of conversation we would have. What would I ask my bike? What would it ask me? After all the miles, tours, breakdowns, good days, bad days, headwinds, climbs, and quiet roads we have shared, I have a feeling we would have plenty to talk about. Here is how I imagine that conversation might go. 5 Questions I'd Ask My Bike 1. "H...

Quick Take: My bicycle ride from Lubbock, Texas, to Pensacola, Florida, included hundred-mile days, dangerous storms, summer heat, and plenty of unexpected challenges. Yet one of my favorite days from the entire trip was a peaceful ride along Louisiana’s Tammany Trace, where a gentle rain, two unexpected conversations, and an alligator that never appeared reminded me why I love bicycle touring. A peaceful day on Louisiana’s Tammany Trace became one of my favorite memories from the entire ride to Florida. When people hear that I rode my bicycle from Lubbock, Texas, to Pensacola, Florida, they usually assume my favorite memories involve the biggest accomplishments. They imagine the hundred-mile days, crossing state lines, surviving the summer heat, or finally reaching the Gulf Coast. Those moments were important, but they are not necessarily the ones I remember most clearly. Looking back now, one quiet and rainy day on Louisiana’s Tammany Trace may have been one of...

Quick Take: Most cyclists think peaceful rides mean country roads, farm lanes, or bike trails. One of my favorite places to unwind on a bicycle is the historic brick streets of downtown Lubbock, where traffic nearly disappears during evenings and on Sunday mornings. When people ask me where I like to ride, they usually expect me to name some quiet country road or a bike trail outside of town. Those are certainly great places to ride, and I enjoy them as much as anybody. But one of my favorite destinations is somewhere most people would never think about. Downtown Lubbock. Now, before you think I have lost my mind, hear me out. Lubbock has more than 250,000 people, and during the middle of a workday downtown is exactly what you would expect. There are people going to work, delivery trucks making stops, city business taking place, and traffic moving through the streets. It is not some empty ghost town all the time. But something interesting happens after busine...

Quick Answer: We live in a busy and sometimes suspicious world, but we should never become so disconnected that we ignore another human being who may be seriously injured or dying. This morning reminded me that stopping to help should never be considered extraordinary. One decision can change a life. If you saw someone lying motionless beside the road, would you stop? This morning began like hundreds of other Sunday morning bicycle rides. The roads were fairly quiet, the weather was pleasant, and I was simply enjoying another ride through Lubbock. Then I approached an intersection that I will probably remember for the rest of my life. At first, I could not understand what I was seeing. A young woman was lying on the corner, partially on the sidewalk and partially near the street. Her body was curled into an unnatural position, and a large piece of metal was lying across her. My immediate thought was the worst one. I thought she was dead. There Was No Res...

Last Updated July 2026 Quick Take There will be a day I can no longer ride — but today is not that day . Real cyclists adapt: slower, shorter, different gear, different bike — but we keep riding because cycling lives in the here and now. There will be a day when I can no longer swing a leg over a bicycle. I don’t know when it will come. I don’t know what will cause it — age, injury, balance, reflexes, strength, or something that’s been quietly waiting down the road. But I do know this: Today is not that day. And that matters more than any future I can’t control. Small Safety Upgrade (Worth It at Any Age) If you’re still riding, protect the one body you’ve got. Here are MIPS bicycle helmets I recommend browsing. Pick the one you’ll actually wear every ride. As an ...

Last Updated: June 2026 Quick Take: I still ride. I still train. I still dream about future tours. But after completing a 366-mile ride along the Mississippi River at age 70, I realized something I had managed to avoid for decades: age has finally become part of the equation. A few weeks ago, I finished a six-day bicycle tour along the Upper Mississippi River. It covered 366 miles and averaged about 61 miles per day. By any reasonable standard, I was happy with the ride. The scenery was beautiful, the weather mostly cooperated, and I enjoyed every day on the bike. Yet when I got home, I found myself thinking about another tour. Back in 2020, when I was 64 years old, I rode from the northernmost point of Texas to the southernmost point of Texas. The trip covered 972 miles in July, and most days the temperatures were over 100 degrees. Several days stretched beyond 100 miles, and when the tour was over, I felt tired but still strong. The more I thought about it, the more I realized...

Last Updated: June 2026 My son and I during my June 2026 Mississippi River bicycle tour. He provided vehicle support while I rode 366 miles through Minnesota, Wisconsin, Iowa, and Illinois on my Specialized Diverge. Last week I finished a six-day, 366-mile bicycle tour along the Mississippi River on my Specialized Diverge. The ride began in southeast Minnesota, crossed into Wisconsin, continued through Iowa and Illinois, and ended near the Missouri border. My son provided vehicle support for the trip, carrying gear and helping with logistics while I rode the route. It wasn't the longest tour I've ever ridden. It wasn't the fastest. It wasn't the toughest. But it may have taught me more than any bicycle tour I've done in years. At 70 years old, I came away with a realization that many older cyclists eventually face. No matter how much we train, age changes things. And that's okay. This Wasn't My First Adventure I've been riding bicycles serious...