After that tough 100KM ride on Chongming Island, I couldn’t stop thinking about how my mountain bike’s thick tires and heavy build had held me back. I’d watched my RAW mates glide on their road bikes, and for the first time, I wanted that ease too—something that would let me keep up on long rides without burning out so fast. But when we checked bike shops, reality hit: at 140cm, there were no ready-made road bikes that fit me. Most were too tall, their frames designed for older kids or adults, and even the smallest ones felt clunky, like I was trying to ride a grown-up’s toy.
That’s when Dad stepped in. He didn’t just say “we’ll figure it out”—he found a way to make a bike for me. He worked with a craftsman to build a custom steel road bike, picking out every little detail to match my height: a shorter frame so my feet could reach the pedals comfortably, narrower handlebars that fit my small hands, even a adjusted seat height so I wouldn’t hunch over mid-ride. But he didn’t stop there—he also booked a professional bike fitting service for me!!! I remember standing in the shop while the fitter measured my arm length, leg length, and even how I leaned when I gripped handlebars, tweaking the bike’s parts until every angle felt natural. “Long rides hurt if the bike doesn’t fit right,” Dad said, watching the fitter adjust the pedal position. “This way, you can ride as far as you want without sore knees or a stiff back.”
When the bike finally arrived, it was nothing like my old mountain bike. It was sleek, with a shiny steel frame that felt light but sturdy, and thin road tires that looked ready to slice through the wind. I ran my finger along the handlebars, grinning, and Dad laughed: “You need to name it, right?” I thought for a second—most of our RAW rides were on weekends, and Saturdays were always the days I looked forward to most. “Saturday,” I said. And just like that, my custom road bike had a name.
The first time I took “Saturday” out for a ride, it felt like magic. I pushed the pedals, and it glided forward with barely any effort—no more fighting against heavy tires, no more stretching to reach the handlebars. I kept up with my mates easily, and by the end of the ride, my legs weren’t burning like they used to. It wasn’t just faster; it felt like an extension of me—something that fit, something that cared about how to ride. That day, I realized the switch to a road bike wasn’t just about keeping up. It was about Dad turning my wish into something real, and giving me a bike that let me love long rides even more.
