Not Yet, Ed: Why I Didn’t Replace My Bike Before a Cross-Country Tour

Before my San Diego to Las Cruces tour, I was seriously thinking about getting a new bike.

My Specialized Diverge had served me well for over 20,000 miles—maybe closer to 25,000—but it was never designed as a pure touring bike. I’d been eyeing a Surly, the kind of bike built from the frame up for long, loaded journeys. A real workhorse. Something that could haul gear, chew up the miles, and shrug off the punishment of the road.

But then came the mishap.

A rag got pulled into my derailleur. One small mistake, and suddenly my tour plans were sitting on the shoulder with me—a ride-ending breakdown in San Diego. The kind that makes your stomach drop, because you can feel a dream slipping away in real time.

Standing there beside my disabled bike, I called my wife. She didn’t hesitate.

“Keep going,” she said. “If you have to buy a new bike in San Diego, then buy a new bike.”

It would’ve been the perfect excuse. A dream justified. I could’ve walked into a bike shop, picked out that Surly I’d been thinking about, and rolled out with something brand new.

But something unexpected happened.

I looked at my Specialized—Ed, I call him, after the last two letters of “Specialized”—and I didn’t see a broken machine. I saw a companion. A partner. We’d been through too much together: climbs, heat, cold, wind, early mornings, long days. I couldn’t just abandon Ed in a moment of weakness. He deserved better than that.

Instead of feeling excitement at the prospect of something new, I felt a fierce loyalty to my old friend. I didn’t want to replace Ed—I wanted to fix him. I wanted to give him the chance to ride again. Even if it meant delaying the tour, even if it meant waiting weeks for a repair, I couldn’t walk away from the bike that had carried me so far.

A new bike might still be in my future. But not yet.

Ed’s not done. And neither am I.

Update: I did get Ed fixed. It took about two weeks, then I got busy training again. Since then, we’ve ridden a little more than 2,500 miles—and Ed is just fine.