Catnap 

As long as I've been a collector of vintage bikes and components, I've always lived in a NYC apartment. The apartments have consistently gotten larger (and further from Manhattan) as I've aged, and now I have two floors of a Brownstone in Queens. My bike collection has accordingly grown over time, but along with that I've realized that I have a "tipping point" with material items. At times over the last decade, I have repeatedly come to the realization that hoarding parts and working on bikes was taking the place of actually riding. Each time, I have purged large amounts of my collection to "refocus" myself on what I think is most important, which is seeing the world astride my bike and spending time with riding with friends and loved ones.

Also, for me at least, having a lot of "stuff" ends up stressing me out. I have had multiple basement floods, and I also tend to move every 4-5 years. I hate having to worry about boxes of stuff being destroyed in a hurricane or water heater meltdown, or hauling all this unused stuff with me from place to place. I've also watched my parents have to clean out their parents' homes, and now they are steadily downsizing their own possessions as they are in their late 70s. When I go to bike swap meets to sell stuff, I inevitably end up talking to wild-eyed, grey bearded collectors who tell me they have so many bikes they are stacked up in their bathrooms or that they've lost track of all their stuff (but are still hungrily fondling some component while trying to convince themselves that they might need it one day). I appreciate their vast knowledge and experience, but I don't want to end up a "caretaker" for piles of bike junk, no matter how rare it is or how carefully I've packed it away.

Are there bikes and parts I regret selling? Of course. But compared to life's other calamities, it doesn't matter; it's just a hobby. Hobbies should make us happy, not anxious and regretful. Hoarding tendencies come from anxiety; anxiety over a world that's changing, people in our lives passing on or slipping away, our own lives and bodies changing in ways that are scary. We look at our hoard of things and see that they don't change - they are a constant, and we alone exert control over them. To let the things go is to acknowledge and accept the inherent changes in life, to embrace that fact and shed ourselves of the stuff that's holding us back.

As someone 20-30 years younger than most vintage bike enthusiasts, I've seen a steady increase in folks having to take a serious reappraisal of their collections as they age. When I think about how I will approach the same situation, I hope my workshop will be spartan (or maybe no workshop at all) but my mind packed full with a hoard of happy bike memories.