There comes a point in the life of a serious cyclist when bicycles stop being individual possessions and become an inventory.

This transition happens gradually.

The first bicycle is easy to explain.

It's the road bike.

You ride it on roads.

Perfectly reasonable.

Then someone invites you on a mountain-bike ride.

Obviously, you can't take the road bike.

So now you have two bicycles.

Still reasonable.

Then gravel becomes popular.

Technically, the mountain bike will ride on gravel. Technically, the road bike will also ride on gravel.

But neither one is a gravel bike.

This distinction is very important to people who sell gravel bikes.

So now there are three.

The cyclist's wife begins to notice a pattern.

“Why do you need another bicycle?”

“Because this one is for gravel.”

“What was wrong with the mountain bike?”

“Nothing.”

“The road bike?”

“Perfect.”

She waits.

He realizes additional explanation will only make things worse.

Then comes the e-bike.

“For when I'm older.”

“You're buying it now.”

“I want to be prepared.”

This is called long-term planning.

The old steel bicycle stays because it has sentimental value.

The backup road bike stays because the primary road bike could someday break.

The backup-backup bike requires no explanation whatsoever.

Obviously.

The fat bike is necessary for the approximately six minutes each winter when Central Oregon achieves ideal fat-bike conditions.

The tandem was purchased during a brief period of marital optimism and is now classified as a Marriage Counseling Device.

The unicycle is for core training.

The tricycle is more long-term planning.

Nobody remembers where the skateboard came from.

And down in the corner sits the tiny bicycle from childhood.

That one isn't going anywhere.

Some things really aren't about bicycles.

Eventually, the garage reaches capacity.

Helmets occupy shelves. Pumps multiply mysteriously. Water bottles reproduce when the lights are off. Boxes contain pedals that might someday become useful again.

The family car hasn't been inside the garage since 2017.

One afternoon, his wife stands in the doorway holding the car keys.

“You realize we haven't parked a car in here for nine years?”

He surveys the room.

Road bike.

Mountain bike.

Gravel bike.

E-bike.

Fat bike.

Tandem.

Everything neatly arranged according to a filing system understood only by him.

He smiles.

“It's not a garage anymore.”

She waits.

“It's a bike room.”

That is when she notices it.

One empty hook.

She points.

“What's THAT for?”

The cyclist looks up.

For once, he doesn't have an answer.

He studies the empty hook thoughtfully.

Perhaps a cyclocross bike.

Maybe a titanium touring bike.

A lightweight hardtail could be useful.

And there are some very interesting new endurance bikes coming out...

“I don't know yet.”

His wife closes her eyes.

The cyclist smiles.

Because an empty bicycle hook isn't really empty.

It's potential.

After all, cyclists have a mathematical formula for determining the correct number of bicycles:

N + 1

Where N is the number currently owned.

The collection is complete.

Subject to change without notice.