If John Boy had been into mountainbikes

Some time ago I was riding what I now call my pub bike—a 15 year old yellow cro-mo trailblazer that nobody would steal—along a bush trail. It was an undulating section, one most mountain bike riders would attack at full speed, in their peer group pressurized conveys, as they do, with their camel backs and anodized Chris King hub and the likes. Me, I was taking it smooth, telling myself I was John Boy Walton with apples in the back for my mammy to bake into pie. Just moments before passing a snake, and thus forgetting this equally remarkable sight, I passed a laid back cat on a roadster with rattling steel fenders, who smiled a board smile from his beard as he passed me.
    
I really should move to the edge of some urban bushland and commute through it each day to work. I could pretend I’m a hunter. For now though I’m thinking of designing a bike for mountain bike riders like me, who go a bit slower and daydream. I’m seeing the lug work and fenders of Rivendell’s Bombadil, the angles of Pashley’s Guvnor, maybe some of the Italian panache of Signo’s Green Man, and certainly big Surly Pugsley style tires, ala the Moots Snow Bike pictured above. 

What else to name such a bike, but John Boy, of course! I remember John Boy was exuberant, in the manner of Jeff Jones pictured mid air there, meaning John Boy the bike would have to cope with hard landings. Yet John Boy was dutiful, like the charming young Gusto with his luggage tray for helping old ladies with shopping. John Boy the bike should stand against all me generations. So much to consider!
       

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