I rode my bike without wearing technical apparel. The shocking, true story.

I woke up Saturday morning with the plan to ride my mountain bike. I’d left work early on Friday afternoon, driving four hours up to my place in Truckee, California in the Sierra Mountains.

The weather was clear and sunny — which was a lucky thing since it had been smoky during the week thanks to the huge forest fires raging out of control all over the state. The temperate was a perfect 80 degrees with a slight breeze. Perfect riding conditions.

I took the bike out of the garage, filled the water bottle, gathered a few gels, my shoes and helmet, and then went to my suitcase to get my jersey and bib short.

It was at that moment that the horrible shock occurred. I had forgotten my cycling jersey and bib short. I was essentially naked and shivering, hopeless and helpless: I had no technical apparel.

That’s right. No high-end lycra, no CoolBlack treatment, no aero sleeves, no Speed Mesh, no triple density pad, no laser cut openings, no anatomical this and that.

I sat on the steps outside the front door and wept uncontrollably for fifteen minutes. I went into a dark hole, cursing Heaven and Hell, fate and misfortune, the bubonic plague that had descended upon me.

I was an empty shell, a hollowed out husk, my life ripped apart by incomprehensible forces. I had no technical cycling apparel to wear on my bike ride.

Eventually, I ran out of tears. It was like a purifying rain that washed away my sorrows. I knew that I had to let go and forgive myself — I had to turn my life around and move forward. I was a grown man, for God-sakes.

I stood up, wobbly at first but then steady and resolute. I would go on this two hour mountain bike ride loaded with fantastic singletrack descents and nothing would stop me. A pioneer spirt gripped me — I would toughen up, make do, improvise.

In no time, I’d pulled out the second-hand bag of clothing I keep up at this house for emergences. I found a faded brown Hurley 100% cotton t-shirt and a beat-up pair of baggy shorts. Sure, there was nothing remotely technical about them but this was my new kit.

I didn’t look nearly as fast or stylish or pro but I was back in the game again. I was old school, the real deal, like Gary Fisher and Otis Guy on their home-made steel rigs, inventing the mountain bike and racing down Repack on Mount Tam. Yeah, how ya like me know?

And you know what? I didn’t need the fancy technical apparel. The t-shirt worked just fine and while it might not wick moisture as quickly or while it might be a little short on the thermoregulation properties, the breeze went under the loose sleeves and I was plenty cool, thanks.

The old pair of shorts held up and really, with a cushy full suspension bike, do we always need that multi-channel, triple density pad? Maybe, maybe not. All I know is I had a terrific two hour mountain bike ride and never missed the technical features and latest fabric technology. I had fun, I rode my bike.

So next time I forget my technical apparel I won’t sit on the front steps weeping. I’ll grab an old t-shirt and go.