The Bike That Got Away
Every cyclist has that bike—the one you wish you hadn’t sold, gave to a friend, or otherwise let go of. It’s not just about the bike itself but the time and place in your life it represents. Maybe it was your first touring rig, your first custom build, or the bike you commuted on during a formative stage of your life. Whatever the case, these bikes have a way of lodging themselves in our memories, long after they’re gone.
For me, it’s my old Schwinn Super Le Tour. It was the first bike I did any significant touring on - especially the Assateague Trip where Adrian and I got custom boardwalk t-shirts to commemorate the journey.
I’ll admit I went all-in on nerding out over the parts - building custom wheels with a dynamo hub, swapping in Suntour Cyclone group with a half-step 52/46 double, various racks, elkhide wraps, and fenders. It had a cockpit I dialed in after countless adjustments, a pannier setup that made me feel ready to tackle any road, and a beautiful appearance. That bike taught me about gear ratios, pannier balance, and the joy of a long tour filled with self-sufficiency.
At the time, I had to let it go. Life circumstances nudged me toward selling it, and I told myself I could always replace it someday. But bikes aren’t just metal and rubber—they carry stories. The Super Le Tour wasn’t just a bike; it was that bike. It represented a time in my life when I was discovering what I loved about cycling: the sense of freedom, the connection to the road and landscape, and the satisfaction of solving mechanical puzzles on the fly. Letting it go felt practical then, but in hindsight, it’s the bike I wish I had kept.
Why do we let go of these bikes? Maybe we needed the money or were making room for a new build. Perhaps it was the lure of something lighter, faster, or shinier. Or maybe we didn’t realize how attached we were until it was gone. Sometimes it’s practical; other times, it’s a simple matter of not knowing how much we’d miss them. Whatever the reason, it’s often only in hindsight that the regret sets in.
I sometimes wonder where the Super Le Tour is now. Is it still rolling under someone else’s care? Is it leaning against a shed wall, waiting to be rediscovered? The thought of it being neglected stings a bit, but I like to imagine it’s out there, doing what it does best: carrying someone else through their own adventures.
If you’re reading this and thinking about your bike that got away, take heart. Maybe it’s a chance to rekindle the memories or find another bike to create new ones. Because every bike has the potential to become the next Super Le Tour—a new story waiting to unfold. Sometimes, we even get lucky and find our old bikes again, or we come across a similar model and make it our own. Either way, the story continues.
What was your bike that got away? Was it a childhood BMX that saw countless jumps off makeshift ramps? A randonneuring bike that carried you through brevet after brevet? Or maybe it was a quirky garage sale find that turned into an unexpected favorite. Share your stories in the comments. Who knows? Your tale might inspire someone to hold onto their own bike a little tighter.
Two in my case! A gunner roadie was a my dream road bike and had to sell when money tight! My biggest regret was selling a Raleigh portage I restored! It was amazing! 650b wheels Shimano deer head components! For a touring bike of it’s vintage it rode fantastic and came to life loader!
Money was a white Univega Activa Trail I got off Craigslist for $20. Just a crappy rig welded chromoly-with-hi-ten-stays bike, but it worked great. Put drop bars, bar end shifters, and tektro CR720 brakes on it, fenders, brooks saddle, etc. I traded it for a Raleigh Super Course with the best patina I’d ever seen. I’d give a pinky finger to have that bike back.
Late 1960’s bike boom. Saved my money from washing dishes in a restaurant ($1.25/hr) and bought a 1969 Peugeot UO8, $100, $110 with beautiful white fenders, sparkling blue paint with 1/2 chrome forks and seat stays. Mavic breaks and Simplex derailleurs. I rode that bike for 1000’s of miles and never got a flat tire! I routinely rode 50-60 miles from the Willamette valley to the coast and back the next day without as much as a pump or tube patching kit. Today I won’t ride to the grocery store without a spare tube! I’ve owned ten bikes, currently have five (touring, gravel, cyclocross, road/rando, hybrid around town) and have never found any of them to be as comfortable as the Peugeot. Most likely because I was young and immune to the pain and suffering that can come with riding 40-100 miles a day. In the early 1980’s I lost it when I moved for the fifth time and went to retrieve it from the storage locker in my last apartment but it was gone. I hope someone took care of it and enjoyed it as much as I did.
In college, I bought a new 1984 Nishiki Riviera for the princely sum of $600. It is lightweight, fast, and reliable.
Components have been upgraded but mostly kept period-correct. The Tange Cro-Moly by Kawamura frame and fork, The 27" Araya rims with Sansin hubs, the Sugino crank arms, and the rear reflector are the only original parts of it I can think of. Maybe the front axle.
It has been my commuter, light tourer, and I-just-need-to-ride bike.
When I bought it, the shop had two frame sizes. Both technically fit me, so I went with the longer sexier looking head tube of the 58 cm frame. I was young and flexible and ignorant of basic bike fitting principles. Now I am older and know what pain is, and I am always curious where it comes from.
The bike is too big for me. It currently wears a 70 mm stem. Its seatpost was slammed. Still, I was wishing I could make everything 1/2" shorter and everything would be perfect. But I was right at the limit.
I just made a gift of this bike to my 18 year old son, who is 3" taller than I am. It is gratifying that he has taken an interest in maintenance and repair, and he now has a parts bin for the bike, 40 years in the making.
My red 55cm Poprad disc. It fit so perfectly and worked so well. Yes, a million bar and stem swaps later and it was just so dialed. It taught me a lot about frame geometry and cured me of the itch to get any more custom frames. Alas, I sold it because it could only take a 38mm wide tire in the rear and I hadn’t yet learned how to dimple and spread stays. Considering what I like to ride today, and how much time, money, and energy I’ve spent on bikes since that Poprad, I realize now I should have just kept it.
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