trek 1000 review I found

Look at this review I found on epinions.com, see if you like it

Pros
Light rims, good brakes, sturdy frame with a flexible ride.

Cons
Sluggish shifters, dosen't come in enough sizes, fit clips not standard.

The Bottom Line
The Trek 1000 is a good bike but it won't garuntee any athlete ultimate victory in any competion that falls under the dark unbrella of the Special Olympics.


Full Review
Let me first start out this review by stating that the Special Olympics organization located in the town that I was residing in when I met the girl who was to become my wife is grossly corrupt and unfair. I know this pale and unfortunate fact due to a series of unjust circumstances that occurred surrounding the Special Olympic games held in that region during the mild spring of 2000.

The governing factors that in the end, ultimately tainted my memories surrounding the Special Olympics of that unnamed state had no knowledge that while their slimy tentacles of lies and villainy were perverting the fate of four dedicated athletes a new love had been borne. This love was grown in the fertile soil of my own moronic pride and recklessness. I pushed my team too be winners yet, when the tape was stretched I was the only true winner in a world that makes a ritual of tearing down its heroes.

I look back with a bittersweet heart, when I think of the spring that I introduced a wonderful group of competitive souls to the simple beauty of the Trek 1000 cycle. I feel a warm sensation of pride in my chest when I recall the motivation that I was able to instill in my team. I also feel the icy cold pangs of shame seize my spine and infect my mind when I realize that I stupidly threw those same comrades to the lions of the Special Olympic judging committee in a selfish effort to impress my lady and win her heart.

I remember when she approached me in the back room of the Footlocker that we were both working at during that time. I was gently sifting through a pile of shoes that the store manager had considered damaged upon shipment. There was a poor man outside with only one leg and he needed only one shoe. I was desperately searching for a single left footed red Nike Air size twelve that had survived the brutal scuffing it’s twin might have endured during shipment so that I could sell him the single sneaker at half price.

“You ride bikes a lot don’t you?” She said rounding the corner from the showroom door.

Rising from my duties to discover the most lovely girl I had ever set eyes upon I instantly leaned back, puffing out my chest while adjusting my crotch. “Well…” I began, as I forced myself to divert my eyes away from her angelic face for but a moment to stare distractedly into the corner as I cleared my throat to spit. “I ride a Trek 1000 about two hundred miles a week if that’s what you mean.”

As my eye’s returned to hers, she starred back with such a lovely expression that it could have hypnotized Hudinni and stole fortunes from lesser men. “Yeah, but do you ride bikes?” She asked, her voice like a gentle rain of falsetto tones.

Girding myself to stare down at the floor and spreading my legs to accommodate my attentions down there I responded trying to hide the quiver that had crept into my voice. “The Trek 1000 is a bike babe. It’s an amateur bike but, you know, I try to take care of myself best I can if you know what I mean.” I finished looking back up at her as I stole a brief wink of the eye and a romantic kissing motion of the lips.

“Well, my Step-Father is trying to get a bike team started with the Special Olympics and they need someone to coach them.” The lean radiant vixen before me cooed as she brushed aside her dark curly hair. “If you want to help out, we’ll be out at Veterans Park tomorrow at ten in the morning.”

So it was in this way that I would come to meet the girl of my dreams. I would also later meet four athletes with hearts the size of the earth itself, and I would gain a discovery that would allow me to sell a one legged man a single shoe for half the price of a pair. All because I owned a Trek 1000.

The next day, as I drove up to the park I was greeted by this Jock O’ Lantern looking dude with like, four teeth in his mouth. “You our new coach?” He asked briskly scooping up a line of his own drool before smiling in a slow simple way at me through my driver’s side window.

The Jack O’ Lantern was followed by a tall fellow soon afterward who crowded up to that same window peering in at me like I was some sort of fish in a fishbowl. He too was smiling. As the lanky man ambled along side of my car I couldn’t help but think that this gangly looking beanstalk of a man looked like a scarecrow propped up all-sideways and stuff.

As I parked, I was greeted by two other weird denizens who were also creeping around the park. One was a stocky fellow wearing a woolen sweater with a torn hood who crowded around my front bumper grinning at me. It was as if this fat guy with eyes like a fish or something was regarding me as an ice cream cone to stuff in his oversized girth of a stomach. The other, a girl with narrow eyes made foggy by her coke bottle spectacles and her tangled mess of hair, soon met him at my bumper and just looked forward as if I wasn’t even there as I slowed my car to a park mere inches from their legs.

Seeing these strangers surrounding my car I was at first, too frightened to exit the vehicle. I didn’t know if they were here to attack me or if they were just some sort of kind group of citizens who were just that darned happy to be in a park and eager to greet me as a fellow park apprecianoto. I would have my answer these questions and more shortly.

“This is that stupid guy from work I told you about.” I soon heard a familiar coo come like that of a dove from behind the weird procession of bodies parading around at the front and side of my car. It was non-other than the sweet kindly voice of that hot chick from The Footlocker of whom I would soon come to know as Dana.

Upon hearing her voice I briskly threw open the door of my car and pushed aside the guys crowding me to meet the outstretched hands of Dana and her Stepfather. As I took their hands and greeted the pair warmly, each of us making our introductions, I anticipated the moment I would meet my athletes. In my mind, this team did not need my tutelage. They needed no knowledge that I could possibly offer yet, I was honored to have been chosen as their coach by the most radiant creature ever to grace the planet.

The members of this team exceeded the Olympics in their merits. The members of my team to be were not mere Olympiads, they were Special Olympiads. Finishing the round of introductions between Dana, her Step-Dad Gene and myself, I was soon introduced to my team. Jack O’ Lantern, Scarecrow, Santa Clause, and Coke Bottles were my champions.

To say that our first practice went well would be a drastic understatement of terms. While I realized that my athletes may be in fact, special and above the parameters of normal training, I still decided to work them through the regular drills of sprinting, climbing, and endurance all the same. They came equipped with Huffy’s, cheap rusty Diamond Backs, and of all things Murry’s.


“None of you are special!” I exploded as Coke Bottles stopped along the side of the road for the fifth time to chase a frog. “You may have been special with whatever team you came from but you aren’t special out here!”

As I exercised my coaches duties berating my frail team, Dana and her Stepfather ran up and grabbed me roughly by my arms dragging me off my Trek 1000. The pair yelled expletives at me as they pulled me helpless across the coarse pavement of the road. While they were cursing my name and dragging me violently to a nearby ditch, I then realized that I had, in fact, exceeded the limit of my gift as the privileged coach of this special team.

Dana and her stepfather punched me a few times in the face and subsequently rolled me off into the gutter. As I lay in a state of semi-consciousness I cursed my self for my foolishness. I had been so arrogant as to think that I knew more about sport than these special athletes and now I had been stripped of my honor as coach as well as any chance to get my knob polished by Dana.

The next day I was determined to make amends to the girl of my dreams and her stepfather. I resigned myself to a frail and humble plan that I would secure these special athletes the gear that they so desperately needed and so amply deserved. I started calling around to bike shops as soon as I knew that those shops might be open.

Frantically grilling every bike shop I called for a sponsorship, I finally reached one that was willing to work with me. It was called Special Lil’ Wally’s Bike Shop and as soon as I told the owner about my special little team he was willing to equip us with jerseys and helmets and bikes for a quarter of the retail price. I immediately called Footlocker and asked for Dana.

“This is Dana.” The love of my life said as she picked up the phone.

“Hi.” I replied with the sensitivity of a quarter for a massage bed.

“Goodbye.” Dana replied gently.

“Wait!” I screamed harshly. I bellowed my declaration of ”WAIT!” so loud I still count her hesitation upon hanging up the phone as a blessing from God.

With the inflection of a gentles summers breeze Dana asked. “What?”

Getting ahead of myself and forgetting to be cool and add some small talk into the courtship I blurted out my reply “I got sponsorship for the special team.”

“Are you an idiot?” Dana asked.

“No.” I said girding myself for yet another brittle smack-a$$ throw down with her.

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone line. When Dana replied she did so very slowly and very deliberately. “Don’t you realize that these guys are disabled?” She said with a heavy sigh in her voice.

“They aren’t disabled!” I argued in protest to her rude claim not knowing yet what I might say next. Before I knew what I was speaking I replied: “They just don’t have the right gear to reach their full potential. Their good athletes but they need to see that they can do just as good as anyone and that’s what I want to give them. I want to make them special!”

I thereby earned the second chance I needed to coach the team from the love of my life Dana.

The next weekend I picked all of my special athletes up in a small rented min-van. After retrieving Jack O’ Lantern, Scarecrow, Santa Claus, and Coke Bottles from their parent’s doorstep I escorted them gleefully to Special Lil’ Wally’s Bike Shop bike shop. All along the way we sang joyous songs parodying travel and mirth simply to occupy the minds of those gifted athletes. Dana rightly suggested that we all render a voice of ”The Wheels on the Bus” after I got annoyed with them poking one another.

I soon found out that Lil’ Wally wasn’t the owner of the bike shop but in fact the bike shop owners kid. He was developmentally disabled. Lil’ Wally was a genuine highlight of the day however, as he ran back and forth commenting about the bikes. I simply refused to feel sorry for Lil’ Wally because he was a gem among the human kind. He was such a sweet kid, I sincerely wished then as I do now that I could have him for a moment so that he might teach me what exactly it is that makes all humans good.

While Lil’ Wally may have taught me a lot about human nature and kindness his father taught me how to fit a bike. The Trek 1000 is a $700 bike. If you are going to purchase a bike of this magnitude you need to be fitted for it. In order to fit yourself for a bike, you must first stand with your legs apart whilst striding the cycle. If you can lift it more than 2 inches you need a bigger bike.

A 6’ 4” person needs around a 60-62 CM Trek 1000 as I found out through Scarecrow. A 5’ 7” needs something like a 50-52 CM as I learned through the fitting of Santa Clause. These sizes are unfortunately, the far extremes of the Trek 1000 so if you are any taller or any shorter you should look for a Schwinn due to the fact that Schwinn makes a fine bike in many more sizes.

Unfortunately, the Trek 1000 does not come equipped with the commodity of fit clips. If you might find yourself riding more than 20 miles per week, I would definitely voice my humble opinion and recommend clips. Riding up even the most mild of hills is much more comfortable with your toes locked securely into a pair of clips than having them strapped into the stirrups which come standard with the Trek 1000. I assure you that you will not regret purchasing the extra equipment in order to upgrade the Trek 1000.

I bought my team Shimmano clips with Shimmano cleats. True, the athletes stumbled around for a brief moment as they tried to adjust to their cleats. Scarecrow even busted his eyebrow open enough to require 17 stitches by falling over onto his weirdly shaped head. I must still insist however, that you mount fit clips upon the pedals of the Trek 1000 if you should so be inclined to cycle more than the average person a week as my team was about to do.

During the proceeding week we trained like true professionals. I ran the special athletes on hills instructing them all the while to use the third chain rink provided by the Trek 1000 to downshift with. Upon cresting a hill and speeding down it’s subsequent decline the Pro Max breaking gear performed wonders slowing us to a crawl as the pads gripped the rims of the Trek 1000’s superior Vueleta Airline rims.

For all of these fine merits benefiting the Trek 1000 there were still some obstacles to overcome in adjusting my team to the bike. Getting the athletes to use to the brake mounted shifting system was a challenge as they had previously only ridden shift driven bikes with the levers mounted on the center of the drops. The Shimmano shifters which come standard with the Trek 1000 are more that adequate to get the job done however they lack the responsiveness that more expensive shifters offer.

I soon found that, in order to break my team of their habit of simply riding one gear and refusing to shift I would have to use negative reinforcement. Pulling them all aside late one afternoon while Dana packed up her car for the evening in the parking lot, I told them that if they didn’t start using the shifters more I would break each of their legs with a baseball bat. Even though the Shimmano shifters presented a slight obstacle to working the gears of the bike the right motivation was enough to start these special athletes on the path to victory. Or so I thought.

When the day of the race arrived I gathered my team in the visitor’s end zone of the local high school where the games were being held. As lesser athletes jog/walked and engaged in various sports around us I gave my team the praise that they so richly deserved. I told them of how far they had come in the preceding weeks. I reminded them that, while they may have been panty-waste when I had first met them, they were now champions. I told them that, even if they didn’t win (although in sizing up the competition gathered on the field I didn’t see quite how my athletes could ever loose) it was not about winning but about going out there and giving it your all.

When I finished speaking there was an awkward moment of silence. It was then that I noticed that Dana was crying. Upon seeing her tears I felt a great swelling in my chest as if it might bust and I began to cry as well. As I began to cry the athletes soon followed.

We all embraced in that magical moment just seconds before the race was to begin, the stress of training and the pride of accomplishment filling our hearts with so much pride that it spilled freely in the form of tears from out eyes. We must have looked like a bunch of sissies all hugging on one another out there on the football field. Our show of weakness and open emotions could very well have been the crux the race officials embraced when they cheated us out of our victory.

As my riders mounted their cycles and approached the starting line I noticed the first of what was to be a long series of injustices which would ultimately lead to my permanent expulsion from the games that day. While the opposing team had on the minimum amount of gear required just wearing helmets, I soon noticed that one of their members was riding one of those three-wheeled adult tricycles. I immediately cried foul and demanded that rider in question be stricken from the games but my protest was denied as the judges pointed out in their cryptic and open ended rule book that three wheeled cycles were allowed in the competition.

The race itself was an unquestionable triumph for my athletes. My team sprinted across the finish line the clear winners of the competition while the four riders on the opposing team wobbled around on their bikes like blind ducks stopping occasionally to wave at friends and relatives in the stands. Before the others had even finished the race I grabbed a ceremonious bottle of champagne that I had been keeping hidden all day long in a nearby cooler in the hopes that it would be used to celebrate our victory and ran to greet my athletes.

Uncorking the bottle I sprayed my lead riders with the champagne yelling “You won, you won! You freaking smoked those losers boys!” And soon the entire team was yelling and laughing and hugging one another sharing in my excitement as they taunted the other riders with similar chants of loser, loser, loser, loser.

It was my passion for cycling, my love of the Trek 1000 bicycle, and my commitment to my athletes that won the heart of Dana that spring. It was my team’s dedication to excellence and the powerful engineering of the Trek 1000 that led them to win the race that day. It was to be the Special Olympic committees rules against alcoholic beverages at events and the use of the word looser in reference to any athlete that would cause me to loose my position as coach of those wonderful athletes that day and forever after. It was that same organization’s stupid ”Everybodies special” and ”There are no losers” dogma that made winners out of the opposition and stole my teams moment of glory from beneath their feet.

The Trek 1000, while a wonderful bike has some shortcomings. It doesn’t come equipped standard with fit clips for cleats and the shifting system is sluggish and non-responsive at times. The rims however are extremely light and the brakes will hardly ever have to be replaces. The frame is sturdy, light and hardly stiff for an aluminum bike. The Trek 1000 also does not insure victory. Only hours of training and dedication will be your path to victory. If you’re a special athlete who takes part in any of those so called Special Olympic events there’s absolutely no reason for you to ever own a Trek 1000 or even to try and be competitive, you’ll win anyway.

Months later I wrote a letter to the Special Olympics committee pointing out the flaws in their system of judging events using my own experiences as an example. I once again promoted the merits of the Trek 1000 and praised my team for all their hard work and dedication. My response from the committee came in the form of a cease and desists order written by their attorneys. I have since given up and I have encouraged every athlete I meet who plays in the games to just give up as well.

Why even try when you’re dealing with the Special Olympics?

I skipped three-quarters of it, but it's still the best epinions.com review I've ever read.

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i relish complicating the obvious and trivializing the stupendous

That's it! I'm getting a Trek 1000!

now i want a trek 1000 too

Quite a boat load.

This post isn't even a review of the Trek 1000. Its just a platform for this guy to gripe about getting his coaches ability revoked by Special Olympics because he brought alcohol and yelled "loser" to the other finishers after his riders had won.

I know, pretty sad huh? poor special olympics team

Do you really beleive it's true? I don't! I'd say it's more like a platform for this guy to try-out his comedic writing skills while at the same time reviewing the Trek 1000.

My guess is that the story is either pure fiction or very loosely based on his personal experience.

Hilarious IMHO!!!

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Rebellion with no point or purpose is worse than conformity.