Strangely, some people want to know my reasoning for choosing Rachel, my new mtb.

Did I have an Excel spreadsheet with criteria and categories for each feature of all possible cross-country mountain bikes on the market, with weightings to indicate value-for-money, resale value and lifetime warranty on the frame?

Ummm, no.

But I have bought a lot of bicycles in the last 20 years (I think I counted eight), and this one was my third mountain bike, so I’m starting to have a few clues about what works for me.

The first thing to acknowledge is that buying a bicycle is an emotional decision as well as a rational one.

The second thing to acknowledge is that every time you buy a bicycle there is a compromise. No bicycle is perfect, and if there was one that somehow managed the illusion of being perfect, I wouldn’t be able to afford it. And the person who is going to ride is a long way from perfect.

So with those factors in mind, I have to say that at present I am in every way delighted with the new bike, and on its first full-length ride (at Mt Joyce last Saturday) it performed superbly, so much so that I rode beyond my own expectations.

OK, broad sweeping statements first. I ride the trails around south-east Queensland, and do maybe two or three enduro races a year. In mtb category terms, this is called “cross country”. So I wanted a cross-country type bike.

And the main decision to be made then is: 26-inch dual-suspension, or 29-inch hardtail?

Those are the two categories of bike that these days dominate the marketplace for regular-joe cross-country riders like me. My old bike (which I have enjoyed immensely) was a 26-inch dual-suspension and I decided to stick with that format. In a no-compromise situation, its possible that I would have both a 29er hardtail and a 26-inch dually, but that’s not the world I inhabit.

I have had the chance to ride a few different mtbs at test days, most notably a Specialized Epic 29er full suspension, but earlier a Yeti 575. Also various Scotts, other Specializeds, a Santa Cruz Superlight, a Giant Anthem etc.

And each time I could compare them back to my own bike, a Haro Sonix.

And usually when I gave a bike back, I would say: “That’s a nice bike, but it’s not THAT much better than my Haro.”

Some bikes were lighter, some had more responsive suspension, but none were a quantum leap ahead of the Haro.

Until I rode the Cannondale RZ OneTwenty. And the element that made the difference? The Lefty.

The Lefty looks weird, and lots of people, even mountain bikers, can’t get past that.

But it performs (from my experience) unlike any other front suspension system. It seems to be both stiffer laterally and more responsive in activation. The effect is that the bike tracks very true, and is easier to put exactly where you want to be on the trail.

In comparison with road cycling, mountain biking requires from the rider a lot more in terms of precision, decision-making, and strength. And the Lefty seems to give me more time to make those decisions, and also to require less from me in terms of applied strength. And this enables me to be more precise.

Let’s get back to the compromises involved in buying a bike. One of those is price.

Cannondale don’t use the Lefty on all their mountain bikes. Only on those towards the top end of their product range, because they are expensive to design and make.

In the 2010 model year, the RZ OneTwenty had a Lefty in the third model down in the range. In 2011, only the top two models, with prices north of $5000, have the Lefty. Cannondale’s other cross-country bike, the Scalpel, is both wildly expensive and made from carbon fibre, which seems to me not the ideal material for mountain bikes.

So I could see the opportunity to get a cross-country 26-inch dually with Lefty, in my price range, slipping away.

But here’s where the rational side of me battled the emotional side. ‘My’ RZ was on the shop floor at Epic Cycles for more than a year. One time, my friends at Epic told me, “we have someone who’s going to buy that bike that you like”. But the sale fell through.

So I just steeled myself for the disappointment. Either it would be there for me when I was ready to buy, or it wouldn’t. No big deal. Sometime down the track I would find a way of getting the right bike with a Lefty.

As The Police used to sing (and I’m sure it was an original idea from Sting): “If you love someone, set them free.”

So I set the idea free. And I was lucky.

I have one more post left on this subject, in which I will talk about branding and mountain bike culture. I know you can’t wait!