All jokes aside, my personal favorite Santa Cruz model is the Skitch. It’s the ultimate traffic-slipping, rat race-escaping teleportation device. It replaces car journeys with bike rides, but does so in a way that makes you feel like you’re drafting a sports car. The lightweight frame and mid-powered motor give you the feeling of being naturally fit. And when you feel like that, you just want to ride and ride. So much so that you’ll find yourself making up excuses to take the Skitch out.
The following is based loosely on a story that I was told. And in no way something I did last night…
Skitch rider: Honey, we’re running low on milk. I’ll pop out and get some more.
Skitch rider’s other half: There’s a whole fresh jug. I just bought it this afternoon. Besides, it’s getting late; the store will be closed any minute.
Skitch rider: It’s not a problem; I’ll go now. I’d hate to run out.
Skitch rider’s other half: How will we run out between now and morning? There’s loads. Besides, your favorite show is about to start.
Skitch rider: Nah, I really should go get some more.
Skitch rider’s other half: Why are you so concerned about milk all of a sudden. You don’t even drink it. Every time you even get as much as a whiff of dairy produce, you bloat up like a cartoon balloon character, and you can’t be further than arm's reach from a washroom.
Skitch rider: Don’t exaggerate. That was one time and I told your mother I’d pay for the cleaning. Look, it’s no problem, I want to do this; for you.
Skitch rider’s other half: Then you better buy extra toilet paper as well.
Skitch rider: [swings open the door, throws a leg over the bike, and is off in a blur of spinning legs and a flood of endorphins, dopamine, serotonin, and norepinephrine]
So there we have it: the best bike is the one that makes you do dumb, fun things that you irrationally rationalize to yourself and loved ones.
