Kevin Vandever

Ten years ago this month, I bought my first serious road bike. I lived in the Chicago area at the time and my buddy, Dave, and I decided that we were going to train for long distance riding and would eventually ride the Lewis and Clarke Trail from St. Louis to the Oregon coast (An unattained but still desired goal, by the way). I began to investigate touring bikes and really liked what I saw from Cannondale.

So, one night after work, Dave and I headed to On The Route on the north side of Chicago. I already had my eyes on the T2000 touring bike so I was quick to test ride, get fitted and hand over the credit card. Dave and I attached my new shiny bike to his trunk top bike rack, secured the straps and prepared to make our way back through the city and out west to my house in Oak Park, which is just a few miles outside of the city.

As Dave drove back through the city, he and I talked about all the great rides we would share. I stole periodic looks into the side mirror to make sure that my T2000 was really there and not a dream. We wove our way through the city and entered the I-290 West (The Eisenhower) towards Oak Park. We had made it through the side streets of the city and were now about to enter the smooth and well-kept interstate (for those of you not familiar with Chicago roads, that was sarcasm). We had gone a few miles on the Eisenhower when Dave looked into the rear view mirror and said, “Holy Shit! Where’s your bike?”

I laughed at first and said something brilliant to Dave like, “Funny!” He said, “No, look, it’s gone!” I didn’t go to the side mirror. Instead I turned around and to my horror, I saw that there was no bike. I don’t even remember what I said but I imagine it would have made a truck driver, sailor and my mother all blush. I had visions of my bike bouncing around the Eisenhower causing accidents and creating general chaos. I looked back from where we came but did not see any such chaos. About that time, Dave had pulled to the side of the interstate and we both flew out of the car and ran to the back so we could see how the bike had escaped. But the bike hadn’t escaped at all. There it was, still hooked from the wheels, but half lying on the road. The top straps had come off, but not the bottom ones so we had been dragging my new shiny bike for, at least, a few miles. I was first to laugh and Dave joined in, although apprehensively not sure if I was really laughing, was in shock, or had gone mad. I think it was a combination of all three.

It turns out that he bike had done quite well for being dragged a few miles at 70 mph. The seat was messed up and the handle bars had some damage and minor scrapes, but not much else. We refastened and carefully secured the bike and headed to home. Dave felt bad, but I assured him that it wasn’t his fault and that he had done me a favor by helping me to pick it up. Besides, I had helped to “secure” the bike so it was as much my fault. I called the shop and took the bike back the next day. After they laughed heartily at the story, they fixed up the T2000 at no charge and i was on my way again…this time with no transport mishaps.

I still own my T2000. It has been a great bike and because of a few scrapes under the brake lever on the left side of the handlebar, I am often reminded of that initial trip home.

written by Kevin Vandever \\ tags: Biking, Cannondale, Chicago riding, On The Route, Scare, T2000, That did not just happen