I once bought a pair of custom-made, Australian kangaroo skin RM Williams boots having read reviews about the amazing quality and fit. This purchase was at a different scale but somewhat relative in price terms to a custom bike as I don't normally pay $300 for a pair of shoes. The day I picked the shoes up, I walked around the block, returned to the store and immediately ordered another pair of boots in a different color. They still fit perfectly and I look forward to cool fall weather when I can wear them.

I had just received my long awaited custom Ti bike. Two weeks later I discovered Richard Sachs. As I was starting a new business, it did not leave room for total extravagance of another custom bike and I was willing to give the Ti a try. Two years into the bike and having read everything I could about Richard Sachs, I could no longer take it. My wonderful wife said "sure, go ahead, order one." Cool, what have I done? I don't know anyone with this bike and have never ridden one!

In my business, we call holding on to an idea in the face of contradictory evidence "anchoring." You are so thoroughly convinced of something that you manage to conveniently find data to support your view and ignore or dismiss opposing views as "uninformed" or "just wrong." It can get you into a lot of trouble and lead to significant monetary losses.

I had read pretty much all there was to read about RS but never knew anyone who had his bike or ridden one myself. I consumed every glowing report with enthusiasm and agreement. I didn't help that a Richard Sachs bike met all my physical and psychic demands; it was built in the classic Italian geometry, it eschewed fads but incorporated the latest technology, it looked vintage, he is a master; you got what he wanted to build you and nothing else and lastly, it could be painted in Italian red.

Two weeks prior to picking up the bike I saw a guy with a Sachs on the road and spoke to him about the bike. It was a hot day and he told me it rode "heavy." "Sissy," I thought. I was anchoring, in deep and not going to change my mind. Besides, when I was fitted for the bike months ago, I asked Richard how the bike would fit and ride. He wryly answered, "Perfectly." So, I had Richard build me the signature bike with Joe Young wheels and all the other stuff Richard uses on his bikes.

I was lucky; my wait only lasted 20 months. I picked the bike up in Chester and of course it was beautiful. I took a short ride with Richard just to see how it felt. It felt great ... didn't it?!?

When I returned home I got oohs and ahhs from the local boys. It rained for the next 10 days after I got the bike so I just sat and stared at it in my garage. When the weather finally turned, I hit the road. It climbed great, tracked beautifully, absorbed bumps nicely and (thank you Joe Bell) glistened in the sun. Then I descended.

OK, I've had my days of passing cars going downhill at 55 mph but those are long gone. I am happy to be early up the climb and let others pass me on the way down. That was then; now I am merciless. I had read about the descending quality of the bike but it was well beyond what I had expected. The bike begs to be let run; the front fork seemingly pushes the wheel back down over the washboards, it tracks flawlessly through the turns like a pair of big giant slalom skis on perfectly groomed packed powder and just seems to run faster. Now, I take the inside line and never hesitate. And I never, ever have to sit up in a turn to slow down. Oh yeah, on the short turns I dive inside of everybody!

So, I didn't anchor. All of those people who wrote all those wonderful things about Richard's bikes were really right. Not that I was worrying. Now, everyday that I ride this bike is a day of pure joy. For me, it is all that biking is supposed to be.

Lately I moved up to a faster and longer Sunday ride. Inevitably, someone in the group of about 50 riders will comment on the beautiful bike I am riding.

No, unlike the boots, I have yet to order another bike; but I will.