No sooner had I tossed yesterday’s post into the barren wasteland that was once the “blogosphere” than I hopped on the AMP-ersand and made for the nearest dirt road out of town:
In 1994 the AMP Research B-3 screamed “high-tech race machine,” but in the ensuing years its look and attitude have been assumed by the lowly department store bike:
Bike people can obviously tell the difference, but to the layperson no doubt they’re virtually indistinguishable.
For offroad riding, the Old Croton Aqueduct is sort of my “trunk route,” and there are various little spurs that lead to discreet trails if you know where to look:
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The lower portion that runs through Yonkers looks more or less like this:
Though sections of it are quite trash-strewn, and there are one or two spots that in recent years have become home to a more or less permanent population of loiterers and unsavory types who engage in the consumption of various intoxicants. For this reason I increasingly avoid the worst parts altogether. But on this particular occasion I was determined to ride as much dirt as possible, and so I decided to run the junkie gauntlet, so to speak.
As I passed one such character, he picked up what appeared to be a tree bough, and seemed like he was preparing to strike me with it. Whether he was merely pretending in order to amuse himself or he really did mean to knock me out and steal my wallet or my bike was unclear. It could very well have been that last one, for as I mentioned, to the untrained eye the AMP looks like a department store bike, and loiterers and unsavory types love nothing more than department store bikes. Indeed, it’s their preferred mode of transportation, and no doubt after clobbering me unconscious he’d have unhooked the v-brakes and ridden off to his next appointment. (Loiterers and unsavory types always ride with the v-brakes unhooked; among discriminating street people, riding with fastened brakes simply isn’t done.) Whatever his intent, the AMP is a precision race bike, not a Target special with a fork installed backwards, and so with a burst of acceleration I placed myself safely out of range.
Going forward I suppose I will no longer be joining the Old Croton Aqueduct until at least section F, if not Section E, by which point you’re safely in the Lululemon Zone:
In any case, as I continued northward, the biggest threat I faced was from middle-aged women with expensive canines looking for any excuse to yell at me for not ringing my bell as I approached. (I had not equipped the AMP with a bell.) The nascent spring was also so fresh and vital that it seemed as though the flora was blooming as I rode:
As for the bike, while it certainly wasn’t as comfortable as my Rivendae or my Jones, it felt playful and fast and I was enjoying it very much, especially since I hadn’t really ridden offroad in awhile:
By the way, someone requested video of the fork in action, and I did my best to oblige:
Sorry, that’s the best I could do holding my phone up to the fork while riding over some bumps with one hand, but I think you may be able to see it move once or twice:
Oh, and that Avid brake feels fantastic.
Speaking of which, having only just received the bike, I was still noticing things as I rode, such as this water bottle cage that looks like it was homemade from a piece of sheet metal:
I’m sure someone will tell me, “That’s a [blahblahblah] cage. What, you’ve never seen one before?” If so, what can I say? It also looks like you can even adjust how tightly it grips the bottle, pretty nifty.
Eventually, I made it to the little curlicue of singletrack I had in mind:
Where it was just me and the deer:
Despite the suspension, the AMP was nowhere near as confidence-inspiring as the Jones, which is what I typically ride here. Certainly as a mountain bike it felt more capable and more comfortable than the American M-16:
And the suspension was perfect for stuff like this:
But on stuff like this it was a different story:
And no, I’m not “sending it” off that ledge; if I need to send anything I walk slowly and carefully to the mailbox and look both ways before crossing the street. I even use two stamps just in case. No, what I mean is the trail goes more or less this way, and you’ve got to make some tight turns and pick your way through some rocks:
Suspension notwithstanding, the small wheels, narrow bars, and steep fork angle of the AMP means it requires quite a bit more attention to the preternaturally stable and voluminously-tired Jones.
That’s not to say the bike isn’t fun to ride. It is fun to ride. Very fun indeed. It’s light (surprisingly so) and it’s nimble, and the suspension facilitates scuttling over roots and rocks. Yes, it’s a decidedly dicier affair than it is on the Jones, but that’s part of the fun, and I find it enjoyable in the same way I still find getting on an overgeared road bike with 23mm tires enjoyable:
I look forward to getting to know it better.
