There’s a special kind of optimism that comes with buying a new bike. You imagine endless smooth rides, perfectly tuned components, and a saddle that cradles you like an ergonomic cloud.
And then you actually sit on the thing.
I love my new Specialized Diverge. Truly. But the saddle that came with it? Let’s just say it appeared to have been engineered by someone who considers medieval torture devices a solid design starting point. After a few rides, my backside was filing grievances with increasing urgency.
A friend, also a woman, who knows far more about gravel and road cycling—and who, importantly, still has functional circulation below the waist—recommended the Ergon saddle. It was, apparently, designed for people who planned to sit on their bikes for more than five minutes without requiring physical therapy afterward. Sold.
I ordered it. Which meant, of course, I would need to install it. Myself.
Enter: The Bike Tool.
Around the same time I bought the bike, I made a very ambitious trip to the bike shop to acquire various items I barely understood.
- A spare tire. Because I heard people carry those.
- Two tire levers. Because I assumed two must be better than one.
- An air cartridge. I don’t fully know how it works, but I know air seems important.
- And this shiny, compact little bike tool, which—if you study the photo carefully—is either inadvertently or entirely intentionally flipping me off. Honestly, it feels accurate. Even my tools seem to know I’m out of my depth.
Armed with my new gear and YouTube as my virtual mechanic, I carefully removed the factory saddle. This was both easier and harder than expected. The bolts came loose without much fuss, but then came the real challenge: adjusting tilt, position, height — essentially, every variable that could make or break my seating experience (or my backside).
After a reasonable amount of adjusting, squinting, and second-guessing, I installed the Ergon. It looked good. It felt good. Progress.
While I was in my newfound mechanical groove, I installed my Wahoo bike computer (a generous gift from someone who apparently believes I will someday be far enough from home to require satellite intervention to find my way back). Thankfully, mounting the Wahoo was far less complicated than the saddle. The bracket attached, the computer snapped in, and I took a small, entirely undeserved sense of pride in my expanding bike maintenance skillset.
Test Ride and the Case of the Crooked Handlebars
With the saddle and computer installed, I took the Diverge out for a celebratory test ride. Everything felt… almost perfect. Except for one small thing that had been whispering to me since day one: the handlebars felt slightly off. Not enough to ruin a ride, but just enough that my brain couldn’t stop noticing it.
At first, I chalked this up to new-bike jitters. Surely it was in my head. Specialized, err the bike shop that assembled my brand new Specialized, wouldn’t sell me a bike with crooked handlebars. Right?
Wrong.
After the ride, I swung by my local bike shop. I explained my handlebar paranoia to the mechanic, fully expecting him to tell me it was nothing. Instead, he took one look and said, “Yeah, that’s a little off.” A few quick adjustments later, and boom — perfectly aligned.
Sweet, sweet vindication.
As a bonus, he glanced at my newly installed Wahoo and informed me that it, too, was slightly askew. Then, rather than fix it, he handed it back. Perhaps there’s a shop policy about not touching customer-installed accessories. Or perhaps he sensed I needed this tiny mechanical victory for myself.
Back home, I shifted the computer a few millimeters left, and finally — handlebars and computer, perfectly aligned.
Small Victories
These are the little triumphs that mark the early days of owning a new bike:
- Saddle? Upgraded.
- Computer? Installed.
- Handlebars? Straight.
- Sanity? Preserved (for now).
- Bike tool? Still flipping me off, but at least being useful while doing it.
I may not know exactly how to change that spare tire yet, or when I’ll inevitably need to use the air cartridge, but at least for today, I feel moderately competent. And really, that’s as good as it gets at this stage of the journey.
PS: If you too have stood in a bike shop buying tools you barely understand, or stared at your handlebars convinced they were slightly crooked, I see you. You’re not crazy. You’re just getting started.