I started mountain biking seriously back in 1994. I had dabbled prior to that, but ’94 was when the North Shore grabbed my attention and the addiction began.
At that time it was considered extreme and there was a mix of respect and disdain from the masses when you were a player in this somewhat obscure sport.
We liked it. All you needed was a mountain bike and the desire to push the limits, and you were considered a dirtbag.
You could have scruffy hair, wear baggy bike shorts to work, and use lingo like rad and stoked. And you never needed to know anyone’s name, everyone was just “dude.”
It was a simpler time.
Chenoa and I have been spending time in Whistler lately. It’s the epicentre of mountain biking these days and apparently, now that mountain biking has become mainstream, everyone wants to be a dirtbag.
We stopped into a Whistler local’s pub last week. I don’t wear bike shorts when I’m not riding, I try not to use the lingo anymore, and I have a pretty boring hair cut. And we were the ones who stood out.
Everyone else had their own dirtbag style. Guys and girls, old and young, even the staff were busting out the extreme lifestyle dirtdag look.
Back in the 90’s we all had bikes worth more than our cars, sometimes no car at all, so we could afford more bikes.
Now I see BMWs, Audis, and Porches with DH bikes on the rack.
Can anyone with money just buy their way into dirtdag status now? Do doctors wear industry t-shirts at the hospital? Do lawyers reference clients as “dude?”
How are we supposed to tell dirtdag mountain bikers from regular folks anymore?
Oh well. We’ve always been a pretty friendly bunch, and it is an awesome sport. I guess it was inevitable.
I’m James Durand and I’m Goin’ Ridin’ …Dude
