One of the countless things I love about this sport is that mountain bikers are not wimps. This is a masochistic group of people who leave the house knowing there’s a high probability of crashing, and yet we can’t wait to get on the trail. After the ride, we’ll compare scars and laugh at each other’s wipeouts. How cool is that?
We’re the people who stand at the supermarket magazine rack praying to find a single copy of “Bike” or “DirtRag” behind 40 copies of “Maxim,” “GQ,” and all the other perfumed rags targeted at guys who buy skin lotions and hair-care products, and coordinate their jackets and shoes. Buff your nails all you want, pretty boys. I’d rather stain mine with chain grease, which is probably why I loved this guide to retrosexuality.
Fear not, female readers. If you ride trails without whining you probably possess some retrosexual qualities, and that’s a good thing. It doesn’t mean you have to put a rainbow sticker on your rear bumper and wear a buzz cut with one of those ponytail mullets. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.)