We recently had a major interior paint job in our house. Mostly it was the upstairs master suite, reading room, and hallway, all in need of brighter colors and some ceiling repair work. This entailed some major reflection on our clothing, since almost all of it was removed from our walk-in closet and other nooks and crannies for the uplifting change. (The closet had a hole in the wall that needed repairing, for example, thanks to overloading one of the hanger rods.) Both my wife, Jane, and I had the perfect opportunity to take stock of our wardrobes, and eliminate things we hadn’t worn for a long time and had no expectations of needing.
For me, that included my extensive cycling wardrobe. When I was riding 120 times a year, in all seasons, I needed an array of clothing: for the heat, for the cold, for the humidity, for the wind. And of course, as far as the jerseys went, for the variety and the color of it. I had a pink one (the Giro d’Italia’s leader’s jersey) that got me nods and smiles on breast cancer awareness days, a Berry Floor/USPS blue jersey dating from the next-to-last year the Phantom Nobody stood atop the podium after winning the Tour de France, the beautiful blue, white, and red of the French national champion, a red Red Sox cycling jersey, a warm wool black and white Peugeot long-sleeve job in 1980s style, and many more. The bibs, the socks, the jackets, the coveralls, and all the rest added to the pile. There they sat, arrayed on a bed in a spare bedroom, until they met the same fate as all the other unneeded garments. They were put in a clear plastic leaf bag and ticketed for disposal.
Green Drop picked up eleven bags for the Purple Heart charity, but not my cycling clothes. I had to find a way to get them to people who really wanted them and would put them to good use. So they sat in their bag in my office for a month or so. Then I researched and found a worthy recipient for donation: a very hippie sort of organization, a bicycle cooperative, in Alexandria! They sell and repair bikes, they help people fix their own, they have workshops on various aspects of cycling. Best of all, they’re named “Vélocity Bicycle Cooperative.” Perfect: “speed” and also “city of cycles.”
After a couple of phone calls and a session with Google Maps to determine how to get to the Del Ray section of Alexandria, I loaded the garments and another bag with my hydration systems, helmets, shoes, and other ancillary cycling paraphernalia, and headed off. The Del Ray area turns out to be an older, leafy, residential neighborhood with a main drag lined with cafes, shoppes, and other small businesses, and Vélocity. The transaction was quick and efficient, and I was on my way home early enough to beat the afternoon tolls on I-66.
So another core chapter in my cycling life comes to a close. I no longer have the wherewithal to do serious riding. Not that I planned to anyhow. I’m so glad my things will have new homes, that others will benefit from them. And I will be content remembering when I rode almost every third day of the year. When Robert Graves wrote his memoir Goodbye To All That he was angry with his country and himself. I say “goodbye” to vélos with wistfulness and regret, but with profound gratitude and satisfaction.
© Arnold J. Bradford 2023
Cycles of Life 
Downsizing can feel SO good.