Imagine, you're on a group ride, clad in lycra with your A group bros. Suddenly, you hear a noise off to your right. In the woods, just behind the trees, emerges a man on his bike--his only bike. He's smiling from ear to ear as you slog away in your sweaty paceline. He bursts out of the trees and onto the road. He's riding right next to you, as if he belongs to the group. His audacity unnerves you. You and the chain gang drop the hammer, just to show him who's boss. Then, as suddenly as he appears, you see his bike and Camelback dissapper into the treeline. You and your pals laugh--for a bit.

Then it's back to the grind on your carbon bike that looks like everyone else's. Back to your kit that looks like everyone else's.

It’s then that you realize a garage full of bikes can't bring you happiness. You've spent thousands of dollars to ride as fast your pals when all you really wanted was the chance to ride like the wind. To ride where you want, when you want. You thought you needed every bike in the store to be happy, but all you really needed was a bike to set you free.

But it's too late now you realize. You're just a cog on a wheel with your club ride pals and it's a chain that can't be broken. They can’t be broken.