Bike of the Day: Jamis Quest

I finally did it. After two full years of research, false-starts, and saving, I finally bought a road bike I can love. In the process, I learned that I have serious issues with commitment. On Saturday, my Dad, Carver (my son), and I dropped into Velo Veloce, a local, very “snooty” bike shop in Issaquah. As we were kicking through the shop avoiding the cranky sales clerks, I stumbled on the Jamis Quest—a fairly non-descript steel bike with Reynolds 651 tubing. Being something of a steel enthusiast, I pulled the bike off the rack just for fun. Immediately, I was struck by the lack of heft. Compared to my aluminum bike at home, it felt noticeably lighter. Then I started noticing the componentry: mostly 105 with an Ultegra rear derailleur. Somewhat hesitantly I reached for the price tag. The bike was listed at a number exceeding “too much.” No surprise there. Then I noticed that the shop had discounted the price by 40%. That not only put the bike at the affordable level, it put it more or less at a price I had planned to spend on a bike last summer.


Well, we piled back into the truck and headed back to bucolic Maple Valley where I mentioned the bike to Rachael in passing. Having put up with my capricious bike tastes for years, she recognized very quickly that this was the type of bike I had been looking for at a very affordable price. She encouraged me to go back, get the stinking bike, and be done with it. I thought about it. My dad and I went for a ride in the woods, where I thought about it some more. Eventually, I slept on it. The next morning, Carver, Dad, and I hung some towel hooks for Rachael and then went back down to the shop. We walked into the shop, I pulled the bike off the rack and asked the closest sales clerk for a test ride. After the test ride, and a little “chit-chat,” I asked for a concession on pedals. He was unrelenting. No deal. So we walked out.

Back at home, we fed the kids some lunch, my folks left for Spokane, and Rachael got on the phone with her mom. Finally, I steeled my resolve, put Grace down for a nap, loaded Lydia, Ellie, and Carver into the truck and left for the shop one last time. On the way, I explained to the kids that the people at this shop did not like kids, and that they would speak unkindly to them if the girls were seen touching any of the merchandise. The girls, who like going to the bike shop, promised to hold hands and not touch anything. Carver, who is beyond reasoning with, would be forced to hold my hand the entire time. While the sales clerk rang up the Jamis, I showed the kids the $10,000 titanium and carbon bikes explaining that “those bikes cost more than our minivan. Isn’t that amazing??” We stared at a steel Waterford bike and discussed the difference between cyclocross and straight road bikes. The girls sat on the kid mountain bikes and pointed out their favorite helmets. Who says indoctrination can't be fun?

Finally, the bike was ready. We rolled it out into the lot where I let Carver and Ellie “test ride” the bike. Then we threw it in the back and headed home. When we got home, I wrenched on the bike for an hour or so swapping out the seat post and the wheel set. Then Ellie and I rode our bikes around the block.

It took me three trips to the shop over two days, but finally I was able to part with the bills. It now resides in my garage where these pictures were taken.