Adrian’s Story

Hi there. This is Stephen here with an intro to this piece. Back in Covid times, 2021, the bike space was as crazy as it will ever be. Some of the business was good, and a lot of it was, honestly, bad. One thing that cannot be argued, the stress and anxiety of it all left everything a blur. I can’t remember a lot of what happened in those 2-3 years. This story, I had forgotten about this one mostly. I remember there was this guy, Adrian, and he ordered a bike. I was running operations and didn’t talk to most customers at that point, Isaac was customer service and sales, so he did. Despite the chaos during his time at working here, Isaac did a great job taking care of people, and he built out a great bike spec for Adrian. Adrian had ordered this bike, and then because of the trickle down effects of Covid, it turned out that his funds for buying the bike had to be funneled on just staying afloat during that difficult era. So, Adrian got in touch to cancel the order. Once a build is underway, we do charge a restocking fee to cancel it, because we have to order all those parts on a per-bike basis. In Adrian’s case, it seemed like a good idea to waive that fee. But then Isaac said “what if we just give him the bike?”. I really don’t remember much from that moment, but in that moment I think it was strangely obvious to us that the right thing to do was to just give him the bike for free. So we did. Adrian was so awesome and grateful. He never hinted at getting the bike for free, and wasn’t trying to guilt us into giving him a bike. I think all of us, Adrian, Isaac, and myself were all equally surprised this whole thing was happening. We finished the build, we boxed it up, we shipped it, and then, more or less, the bike disappeared.

Now, I would be lying if I didn’t tell you that I wanted to hear what was next for Adrian, and for that bike. I wanted to hear about where Adrian took that bike, and how great it was, and what his friends thought of it. I would be lying if I didn’t want to experience more of the good vibes of giving a bike away in general. We didn’t hear more from Adrian and I didn’t get that gratification. I had to remind myself; a gift is a gift. You can’t rightfully attach strings and expectations to it. Covid and the years marched on, and this story did fade from my mind. From time to time something would remind me of that guy in California who had the Flaanimal. What was his name? I can’t remember. Why didn’t he write? I’ll never know.

And then… early this September, Adrian wrote! Opening the email and then the attached letter, it took me a moment to even realize who was writing and what I was reading. Then, suddenly, it all came rushing back. This was Adrian, Adrian! I was blown away that he had written, and that he wrote the note, and it took me a few re-reads to really absorb how awesome the story was that he had shared. I’ve had countless great conversations, and exchanged countless emails with Rodeo people over the years, but this singular note is probably the most meaningful Rodeo and human story we here have had the honor of being a part of.

I have mixed feelings about sharing this story, because some of this can be interpreted as tooting our own horns. But, I discussed sharing with Adrian, and he said that it was ok, and offered to also share some of the digital and film photography that he has created along the way. I think the fact that we didn’t plan or script this story is what leaves me feeling good about sharing it. It’s just something that happened, and it’s a positive story about a great person living their life, and how a simple bicycle has been woven into the story. Life is full of negative stories and news these days, and I struggle with the weight of it all. Adrian’s story is a ray of light in the middle of that for me. Adrian’s story reminds me that no matter how negative the narrative is on a wider level, good, even beautiful things can still happen on a human level.

I hope you enjoy this story, and it brings something positive into your day or night.

The following are the words from Adrian himself, in his email that he sent this September.

Hello, Rodeo Labs. I want to begin by thanking you once again for the bike. I still get lost for words over how to describe my gratitude. In the last three years, I have been using the Flaanimal in different settings.

As I have mentioned in a past letter, I am a first-generation Mexican American. My parents immigrated here from Mexico in the early eighties. My parents came here to find work and to give my brother and me a different set of opportunities from what they had growing up. As many immigrants form Mexico do, my parents worked as field laborers for several years. They traveled to different parts of California to pick different produce—the work was grueling, long, and strenuous. Eventually, they found jobs where they worked inside of warehouses. Working inside of a warehouse was different kind of grueling work, but one that didn’t expose them to the outside elements. When I was 19 years old, my dad passed away in a car accident. I was very close to my dad, and he encouraged my love of bikes. I knew I had to honor my parents, but I didn’t know how to do that. I knew that school was one of my few options. My parents were not wealthy, and they didn’t have connections. They didn’t know how to help me navigate through college or grad school. Yet, I set out to go to school, and it wasn’t easy for me. I found myself navigating through spaces that were not designed to help students that looked like me. At times, the pressure to honor my parents would get to me. I didn’t want to fail.

The kind gesture of giving me a bike means so much to me. Again, I’m not sure if I can describe just how much. You gave me this tool to continue my passion for bikes. And, just as I felt about my parents, I wanted to honor Rodeo Labs, but I didn’t know how to do that. I suppose the obvious answer is to simply ride my bike. Ride it and let it take me to new destinations and experiences. That’s what I have been doing. I began to feel anxious and undeserving of this bike. Still, I couldn’t stop those thoughts of insecurity and guilt flood my mind. Something I had to work through (and still am) is the thought I don’t deserve this bike. I feel that I’m not worthy of owning such a nice bike. At the same time, I felt that I needed to become a better cyclist so this bike won’t go to waste. It’s difficult for me not to consider that someone else needed this bike more than I do. Maybe, someone is out there that would be doing cooler and better things with this bike. Maybe, I’m just more prone to feeling this kind of guilt and insecurity because there’s still a part of me that feels I’m failing my parents. Deep down, I know that I’m not. My mom is proud of what I’ve accomplished. Mostly, I get bummed out when I think of my dad. What would he think? Would he be proud? Would he ride bikes with me? I imagine he would ride bikes with me and would have been amazed by everyone at Rodeo Labs and the Flaanimal.

Why am I thinking and feeling this way? I always knew that cycling was important to me. I just never really grasped the magnitude to which cycling had a hold on me. As I mentioned in a previous letter, my bike was stolen. I was making attempts to convince myself that it wasn’t that big of a deal. After all, the bike was a material possession. To my surprise, getting my bike stolen put me in a state of grief, anxiety, and contemplation. I lost this tool that got me around town. It provided me some relief from the pandemic and the stresses of grad school. It helped me get out to places I wouldn’t normally go in a car.

I had just graduated with my Master’s degree the year before getting my bike stolen, and I was barely a year into teaching as a part-time adjunct professor. If it wasn’t for my insurance paying me out for my stolen bike, there was no way I would be able to afford a new bike. Steady work doesn’t exist for the part-time adjunct professor. Because enrollment was down due to the pandemic, I wasn’t secured classes for the spring semester. This meant that I had to burn through my savings into the summer in the hopes that I would make it into the fall. So, it turned out that I wouldn’t be able to afford the Flaanimal I started to build. I wasn’t too sure if I’d ever ride again. I once again entered a state of anxiety. Not too long after I canceled my build, I got a call from Isaac telling me that I would get the Flaanimal free of cost. I would also get my money back for my deposit and the bibs and jersey I purchased. Even as I type this out, I still can’t believe it. Why me? What did I do? I’m not sure if this answers why I feel guilty or insecure, but I do think it sheds some light on how meaningful this is for me.

It’s safe to say that I’m pretty good at failing. I failed plenty of college courses, and I nearly dropped out of community college, my undergrad program, and grad school. Given my background, statistically, I shouldn’t have made it past community college. When I talk about failures and struggles in education to people at work or my students, I tell them that I didn’t really know why I kept trying after several setbacks. I kept going because I couldn’t let my parents down. They were my true motivation. Even now, I feel like I’ve infiltrated a space where I don’t belong. However, with cycling, I have never felt there was a sense of failure even with cycling being synonymous with competition. Whether it’s the races, gear, or what you can conquer, it seems that it’s easy to lose yourself in competition. However, cycling doesn’t have to be competitive. I ride my bike because I like to have fun. The only way I can imagine I would fail at cycling would be the moment I stop having fun. I don’t have a competitive spirit when it comes to riding my bike. This means that there is nothing to lose. I simply go out and try to experience something new every time a ride.

Since getting my bike stolen, I’ve been trying to make sense of what bikes mean to me. I like the idea of the bike as a tool that simply gets you from Point A to Point B. It could be used as a commuter to get you to and from work. It can be used to put you in places that are new and exciting. Last year, I purchased a film camera (an old Nikon F2). I didn’t want to deal with digital or batteries. It’s not the lightest or smallest camera, but I have been enjoying bringing it with me on my bike (I use a hip bag to carry it with me). I like the idea of taking pictures of the Flaanimal in nature. As beautiful as the landscapes are, I like to juxtapose these scenes of nature with something mechanical. It helps reminds me that that I’m not the first nor the last. Yet, it’s a tool designed by people to create something good. Whether that means getting your groceries, grabbing a beer with friends, or simply riding out to get lost in the trails.

After getting the Flaanimal, I have been working towards my career as a professor. Since then, I was hired as a full-time lecturer at UCSD. I still teach part time at SDSU as a way to help out my wife through her grad program. Because of the extra work, I don’t really have time to ride bikes for leisure like I used to when I was younger. There have been weeks where I haven’t been able to ride the long distances that I love. My relationship to my bike was much more of a utility for commuting. Lately, I have been making more time to go on longer rides. My wife and I went to Catalina Island and bikepacked for two nights. It was a wonderful experience that brought us together. I was happy to spend the time with my wife and to ride my bike.

I hope this letter helps shed some light on what’s been going on with my life these last three years. Please, don’t take my radio silence as ungratefulness. I was just having a good time honoring everyone at Rodeo Labs by riding my bike.

Take care, Adrian

Thank you so much for taking the time to send this letter Adrian. Thank you for sharing your incredible story. Thank you for giving this bike the best story it could ever be a part of, and for making it a part of your own. It’s an honor that you’re a part of this extended community.