18 Miles Per Hour

18 MilesPerHour is about riding through the world instead of just passing it by.
EULOGY FOR THE GREATEST JERSEY I’VE EVER KNOWN.
I just wanted to say a few words about the passing of this jersey. It went by the name Rapha Classic jersey but I knew it as The Favorite. The only jersey for which I followed the washing instructions to the letter. That’s love. Always top of the jersey stack, always chosen for special rides, organized centuries and the like. it was in my life for 6 years but every time we got together it felt new.
It was immaculately-tailored. Rich, velvety, flat black with an elegant stripe on one sleeve. Slimming, even when I felt very un-slim. Which was often. So attractive I could commute in it, wear it at work, then commute home without batting an eye. It gave me warmth, comfort, wicking and massive cred at group rides.
Without a single logo (even the Rapha logo was embroidered in white-on-white, pure class) it could quietly alpha-male all the logo’ed up, local club knuckleheads. And when paired with my light blue I.F Crown Jewel I felt like I was experiencing the height of cycling luxury.
And it was with me in my saddest hour on a bike – giving it’s life to protect my skin. No, it couldn’t keep my collarbone intact, but wherever its soft fabric was, I was scrape-free. Now your life is over. But you died doing what you loved – wicking your ass off and looking fantastic. 

EULOGY FOR THE GREATEST JERSEY I’VE EVER KNOWN.

I just wanted to say a few words about the passing of this jersey. It went by the name Rapha Classic jersey but I knew it as The Favorite. The only jersey for which I followed the washing instructions to the letter. That’s love. Always top of the jersey stack, always chosen for special rides, organized centuries and the like. it was in my life for 6 years but every time we got together it felt new.

It was immaculately-tailored. Rich, velvety, flat black with an elegant stripe on one sleeve. Slimming, even when I felt very un-slim. Which was often. So attractive I could commute in it, wear it at work, then commute home without batting an eye. It gave me warmth, comfort, wicking and massive cred at group rides.

Without a single logo (even the Rapha logo was embroidered in white-on-white, pure class) it could quietly alpha-male all the logo’ed up, local club knuckleheads. And when paired with my light blue I.F Crown Jewel I felt like I was experiencing the height of cycling luxury.

And it was with me in my saddest hour on a bike – giving it’s life to protect my skin. No, it couldn’t keep my collarbone intact, but wherever its soft fabric was, I was scrape-free. Now your life is over. But you died doing what you loved – wicking your ass off and looking fantastic. 

  1. 18milesperhour posted this