Understanding the Addictive Nature of Cycling

I never meant to fall into this hole.

One bike, that’s all I needed. That’s what I told myself. Now, I’m contemplating my fourth—no, wait, my fifth. The first one was for commuting.

The second? A road bike, because speed is intoxicating. Then a gravel bike, because dirt calls like an old vice. Now I’m building a custom one because nothing off the rack feels personal enough.

It started innocent. A simple ride. The wind in my face, the road stretching ahead like a fresh bottle. Then came the upgrades. Then the new bike. Then another. Now I’m here, looking at frame geometries like a desperate man at the bottom of a glass.

Bukowski would have laughed at me. He’d sip his cheap wine, take a drag of his cigarette, and tell me I was just another sucker looking for meaning. And he’d be right. But we all need something, don’t we?

1. The N+1 Curse: You Always Need One More

N+1: The number of bikes you need is always one more than what you currently have. I laughed at it once. Then I got sucked in. A road bike for speed. A gravel bike for dirt. A commuter for the city. Then the itch starts again. A custom build, perhaps? Something titanium, something exotic. There’s always another.

2. The Ride Chooses the Bike

You think you own the bikes, but they own you. They whisper to you. The road bike calls when the pavement is smooth. The gravel bike beckons when the city feels too constrictive. The mountain bike, if you’re brave enough, tempts you to throw yourself down trails like a lunatic. You don’t pick the ride. It picks you.

3. The Dopamine Factory

They say cycling is like a drug. They’re not wrong. Spin those pedals long enough, and your brain rewards you like you just did something noble. Endorphins flood your system, and suddenly, you’re hooked. Your body aches, your legs burn, but you don’t care. You need another fix. Just one more ride. Just a little faster this time.

4. The DIY Obsession

It’s not just about riding. It’s the tinkering. The late-night adjustments. The thrill of getting your hands greasy as you swap out components like a mad scientist. It’s not enough to ride—it has to feel right. You tweak, you modify, you optimize. And then, just when it’s perfect, you start over. Because perfection is temporary.

5. The Escape Mechanism

Life is brutal. But on a bike, you’re free. No bills, no bosses, no nonsense. Just you, the machine, and the road. It’s a pure, untamed moment. The world fades, and all that exists is the rhythm of your breath and the spin of your wheels. You tell yourself it’s healthy. And it is. Until you realize you’re avoiding everything else.

6. The Consumerist Black Hole

Are you addicted to cycling or just buying things? The lines blur fast. First, it’s a better saddle. Then lighter wheels. Then a whole new frame. N+1 isn’t just about needing another bike—it’s about feeding the hunger for something newer, better, shinier. You tell yourself it’ll make you faster. Maybe it will. Maybe it won’t. But you buy it anyway.

7. The Identity Crisis

At some point, you stop being a person who rides bikes and become a cyclist. Your wardrobe changes. Your weekends disappear into long rides. You speak in jargon. FTP, cadence, aero gains. You justify it. It’s just a hobby. But deep down, you know it’s more than that. You’ve become the thing you swore you wouldn’t.

---

Summary Table

Addictive Element	Description
N+1 Curse	You always need one more bike.
The Ride’s Choice	The terrain dictates your bike.
Dopamine Rush	Your brain craves the chemical high.
DIY Addiction	Fixing your bike is part of the obsession.
Escape from Life	Cycling as a form of avoidance.
Consumerist Trap	Spending money to chase performance.
Identity Takeover	You stop riding and start being a cyclist.

---

Final Words

So here I am, staring at another frame online. It’s beautiful. It’s expensive. It’s unnecessary. But my fingers are already hovering over the “Buy Now” button.

I tell myself I don’t need it.

I tell myself I can quit anytime.

Then I laugh. Because I know damn well I won’t.