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.
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.
In my early 30’s, my marriage not doing so well, I bought myself a bike as a way to get some exercise, blow off some steam, and get some time away from the house and the spouse. It was a Miyata Alumicross, my very first quality bicycle. After a bit less than a year, it failed, cracking right at the seatpost cluster. They replaced the frame, and almost a year later to the very day, it failed again. Same place, same failure. Some kind of recurring defect here.
I contacted Miyata’s designated warrantee manager, as the company had already shut down most of their US operations. We talked a bit and he replaced it, with a Triple Cross. As this was a lesser value than the bike I initially purchased, he included a better and new geartrain, brakes, handlebars, and wheelsets. Pretty much a new bike except for the tubes, tires, seat and pedals. I considered this to be more than fair, and was always grateful to him for doing this.
Billed as STB or spline triple butted, it was, as you may have guessed, a triple butted frame made in Japan with high-quality steel, that featured a unique rolled spline rifled thru the primary tubes for additional strength and torsional rigidity. Stronger, flexible, with a more relaxed geometry, and longer chainstays giving a better ride, than the Alumicross. Perfect for casual road riding, crushed stone, rail-trails, commuting and light touring. Which is just what I used it for. A lot… In that time, I broke the wheelsets once, and had to replace the shifters twice, upgrading each time, while riding the hell out of that bike for 24 years.
When it finally broke and yes it did, a cracked chainstay caused by me doing something stupid, I replaced it in 2007 with a Surly LHT. I love my Surly even more than the old Miyata STB Triple Cross, but damn, did I ride the wheels off that thing. I miss it to this very day.
Long live the Miyata STB Triple Cross!
Just as a reference I am 67 years old and grew up during the late 60s early 70s bike boom in the US creating an amazing black market for high end stolen bikes. Especially, since the highly respected frame builders could not keep up with the demand.
My first decent bike was a Raleigh Super Course circa 1970 which was stolen six months later with two locks on bike rack. My second bike was a Raleigh Competition once again stolen in front box my house being the bike boom thieves would follow you home. I went on to own a couple of Paramounts and a Raleigh International. Some years later as a graduate student working as a bike mechanic at UGA in the mid 70s our shop represented and sold Richard Sachs custom frames in his early days just as he went on his own. Back then I saved my money working three jobs selling a couple of frames/ parts I finally ordered a Sachs custom frame. Over the years I built it up with 3-4 different iterations/ components actually owning it for 35 years. Sadly, after a beautiful fall ride while enjoying a post ride breakfast my beloved Sachs was stolen from my locked Thule suv bike rack….Still hurts
leter on
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