Do you have a point of view that you would like to share. Just email us and we will post it. Please keep as clean as you can. The Bike Guy. The guys at Big Sky Cyclery recently asked me to put a few words together for their web site. Apparently there’s a shortage of people at the shop who can both ride and scribble (you know who you are). I’m not sure I qualify either way. But I know the real reason they asked me is because I have a strong opinion about a bike I bought last year, a Rocky Mountain RM6.This should qualify for air time on Ripley’s, but Simon actually tried to talk me out of it. That’s right, “The Bike Guy” was walking away from a tasty sale. “It’s too big a change,” he said, “You’re used to your old carbon-fiber hardtail frame.”  I’ll admit, after 20 years of mountain biking, and 6 years on a 22 lb. cross-country rocket, I was nervous about “upgrading” to a 34 lb. trampoline on wheels. Was all that suspension necessary? Would I be able to get it up Helena’s steeps? Would I miss the response and agility of my trusty old hardtail? Would my wife bail me out after the cops arrested me for riding what looks like a motorcycle on Mount Helena?  I also had my dignity to consider—who wouldn’t snicker at a 42-yearold in spandex and a plastic beanie on board this teenager’s outrageous toy? “Classic mid-life crisis,” the neighbors would say, shaking their heads. The bike’s even got a fire-engine red paint job….  So of course I took the RM6 for a test ride. Ran over some big curbs. Climbed the 30-degree slope out of the overflow basin behind the Lee Metcalf Building. Humped it up some long hills, sucking wind all the way. And knew it was exactly what I wanted. It took some convincing, but Simon finally relented and “let” me buy the bike.  See, I’d had the epiphany way before I rode the RM6—struggling with serious back problems that were limiting me to 20 minutes in the saddle. I was about to give up cycling because a standard cross-country bike was just too painful—the bent over posture, weight on the hands, and impacts coming through the hardtail. Even an inch or two of travel on full-suspension bikes wasn’t enough. I wanted a Lazy Boy, a waterbed on wheels. And after a year of riding the RM6, I’m sold on going as plush as you can.  The difference, in a nutshell, is that I’m not just riding from point A to point B as fast as I can any more. Oh, this hefty bike still gets me up the Ridge Trail to Park City and home again in under an hour and a half, but now I have real fun doing it. Instead of watching my speedometer, I look for terrain to play on. Instead of worrying about shaving grams off my water bottle cage, I throw an energy bar in the seat pack and go exploring for the afternoon. This is about playing on a bicycle—something most of us vaguely remember doing as kids. If I wanted to focus on time and efficiency and competition, I’d leave my bike in the shed and stay at work.  Response and agility? Maybe my reflexes are slowing down, but this RM6 dances through the turns and thin lines as well as any bike I’ve ridden. The ultra-plush suspension doesn’t just gobble up bumps, it sweetens your feel for the trail and for banking those g forces through the curves. And I’m not beat up at the end of each ride. It’s ironic that the bike industry overlooks us old farts when it markets these “freeride” bikes. We’ve got the experience and skills (and, compared to the average 20-yearold, the income) to enjoy every inch of travel, even if we’re not hopping off 30-foot cliffs, drifting through chicanes at 50 mph, or dating Victoria’s Secret models. We’ve also got the rusty knees, imploded vertebrae, and fossilized wrists to warrant all the cushion we can afford. Will Harmon P.S. If Simon is “The Bike Guy,” what’s that make the rest of us?