Here's why you should give me your bike:
Cycling is essentially the art of spending absurd amounts of money to reduce your travel time from "quite slow" to "slightly less slow," all while wearing clothing designed explicitly to highlight every insecurity you have about your body. Riders willingly sit on seats that would make medieval torture devices blush, pedaling furiously to maintain a speed easily surpassed by casual dogs chasing squirrels.
Cyclists are often found defending the aerodynamic benefits of shaving legs or debating whether titanium water bottle cages truly save those crucial two grams of weight—because clearly, that's what’s holding them back, not the three donuts they had at breakfast. They're a unique breed who can rationalize buying a carbon-fiber helmet worth the GDP of a small island nation, yet insist on patching a punctured tire twelve times before replacing it.
Every cyclist's greatest skill isn't climbing hills or sprinting; it's ignoring the gentle but persistent voice whispering, "Why didn’t you just take the car?" Meanwhile, the general public assumes cyclists love the environment, fitness, or personal growth, when in reality, most are just chasing an excuse to eat more pizza or justify mid-ride coffee stops that last longer than the actual ride itself.
Ultimately, cycling remains oddly addictive. Maybe it's the thrill of dodging angry geese, the constant fear of getting stuck in clipless pedals at traffic lights, or simply the quiet pride in wearing padded shorts without embarrassment. Whatever the reason, cyclists keep pedaling, blissfully ignoring logic and common sense one overly-priced component at a time.
