Not My 911 vs. My Road Bike

What happens when Lycra, carbon fibre, and midlife collide.

For some men of a certain age, there comes a time when the lure of a Porsche competes with an equally notorious midlife purchase: the high-end road bike. If you’re in your 40s or 50s, you know the drill. Lycra, carbon frames, overpriced helmets, and Sunday mornings lost to group rides instead of sleep-ins.

For me, the cliché became reality when I went all-in on an S-Works project black carbon road bike. And why not? For science.

So how does a featherweight road bike stack up against the heavyweight dream of a Porsche 911? Let’s do the math.

Step 1: Get a bike.

In all fairness, I got the bike for a specific reason, to be the bike leg of a workplace triathlon team. At the time, I figured my $2K “bargain S-Works” would be more than enough to hold my own. Of course, the hardcore cyclists would tell you that unless you’ve dropped $15K on a proper dream machine, you’re not really serious. Maybe they’re right, maybe they’re just justifying their spending — but let’s call this subtle foreshadowing. I did invest in a $500 bike-fit to ensure all my watts made it to the wheels… which I thought was impressive.

Cost: $2,500

Step 2: Get essential gear.

Bibs, shoes, helmet, all the other bits. I convinced myself I didn’t look like an overstuffed sausage (though my wife’s laughter suggests otherwise). These two legends made the ride way more fun than my solo efforts.

Cost: $1,000

Step 3: Get ‘other’ gear.

It turns out riding in the rain sucks. Some people swear by it, but I was not one of those people. Enter the indoor trainer, subscription to Zwift and, cleaner, tools and some other bits… all so I could push watts and do it all without getting wet.

Cost: $1,500

Total investment: $5,000

The Reality Check.

Riding a bike is simple. I did it as a kid, and back then it meant freedom, adventure, and getting from A to B with mates. As an adult, the magic is harder to find. Riding a road bike, by yourself, purely to get better at riding a road bike… by yourself… sucks.

I put in the work, and honestly, it sucked a lot. I was quick, but not quick enough. Too fast for some groups, too slow for others. A few rides with mates were fun, but I could just as easily have skipped the Lycra and gone straight for coffee.

The Plot Twist.

Remember that triathlon team? The one I trained to be an anchor member of? After months of preparation and office chat about our “potential,” I was quietly replaced. It took a little while to realise I’d been dumped. But when it was clear I’d been swapped out for a former professional Ironman, a serious upgrade if winning is the only goal, I wasn’t mad (just disappointed).

Sure, far from the best feeling I’ve had. All the talk about our progress, the 1% better ‘vibes’, teamwork, inspiring others, and having fun? Out the window. Winning, it turns out, mattered more. Who knew (not me).

The Lesson.

Maybe with the right crew of like-minded riders, a road bike can still unlock those childhood feelings of freedom and camaraderie. But there are no guarantees. And if the success of your midlife crisis solution depends on the active participation and goodwill of others, it’s probably not the thing.

Porsche vs. Road Bike.

Winner: Porsche*

Looser: Road Bike

*I actually have no idea yet of the Porsche is the winner, because I don’t have one, but I can say the road bike was a looser for me!