I've recently put together a new trail bike and am in the process of building my race rig for the upcoming season, but with every decision made, there is one (or two) that I change my mind about. My problem? The potential upgrade and my perpetual indecisiveness.
I look at it this way: every year, new, better, faster, lighter, stronger and sexier products come out. Every year, we're promised performance gains, better aesthetics, and fancier technology. But when I'm buying or requesting products, questions usually follow. "Will ____ (component/item) pay for itself in a year?" "Can I resell this after using it?" "What will the market be like?" "Will there even be a market for this?!" and other important, pressing, first-world musings. After taking a bath on my barely-used GT, I've begun to realize that regardless of what we put into a bike, it will
never be worth that amount of love, cash, blood or sweat to someone else. Your treasure is eventually someone else's trash.
I just finished chatting with a co-worker who was wondering about two very popular, competing forks on the market right now. Said friend wanted to know if the small upgrade price from an older but well-received fork to the newly released freshness was worth it. I said yes, of course, because the newly-released freshness happens to be kicking the ass of the older fork (in my
opinion) and eventually, will sell for more based on 2015's hype, trends and the performance of the new fork. We talked about bikes being terrible investment properties, and he walked away, still mulling over the options. My problem with this entire conversation? The temporary-ness. We were discussing a bike build based on the merits of it's resellability (if that's a word), not on the actual performance or preferences of the rider.
Of course, it's fairly semantic to debate the performance qualities of any top-end fork at this point. It's not as though there's going to be a massive difference in weight, quality, aesthetic or retail price between the two, but for a small cost, it seemed like a huge choice. But often, humans making risk-less decisions experience something termed 'loss aversion'.
'Loss aversion' is closely linked with 'choice aversion'; the former is an avoidance of loss while the latter is avoidance of making the choice at all. 'Choice aversion' can been seen on the faces of friends at a restaurant with an extensive menu. It's also evidenced by the 'wish list' you have sitting in your online cart full of triggers you'll never pull with the argument of "WHAT IF SOMETHING BETTER COMES ALONG?!" On a basic level, my coworker and I were experiencing both as we discussed our fears of depreciation and overall potential loss on his new bike. We're so terrified of failure. But what if we thought about it more as an investment in our fun rather than our wallets?
What if, instead of being terrified of making the wrong decision on a bike, partner, vacation, career, marriage, life, we simply looked at it as an experiment? Or do we? Is it a foray into a new adventure filled with possibility and lessons? Or are we searching for the improvement we know is out there? Is that why we search out these so-called 'mistakes' and look for opportunities of change? The next better thing, proving itself worthy of love, lust, obsession? Are we really adventuring or just distracted?
"______ is an upgrade that will make you ride faster/better/stronger/with more style and it'll even pour your beer." Why do we have to quantify improvement? Is it because we despise change? Is 'choice aversion' just a fancy way of saying 'overwhelmed'? Or is my discussion with a coworker about eventual value in a resale simply realistic?
I know I get distracted and excited by new stuff... And people. And bikes. And food. And... Well, it's more like walking your dog and then SQUIRREL! I know this. It's why I warn off potential life mates, why I switch toothpaste as often as possible, and why I don't bother cleaning my room. I prefer to think of it as a healthy mindset, this refusal of permanence.
Because deep down, we all know that next year's model is going to be better.
These toys aren't just toys - they're time machines. They facilitate buying time - not total life span, but time well spent, experience fully realized.
BTW - that choice thing... For many of us, choice can be paralyzing. You just try to optimize, trying to make sure you get it right, terrified you might leave a better choice unexplored. I've forced/trained myself to streamline my decision making. Restaurant menus? Go through the menu until I've found two things that look really good, then get one of those. What trail to take? What size sail to rig for windsurfing? Three minute decision cutoff. If it's suboptimal, fine, there's a lesson there (either in choosing better, or in making stuff work - always a good challenge). Turns out, that frees up a lot of mental cycles for more important stuff (like actually riding/sailing/visiting/eating...).