Davide la Locomotive

I used to think cycling was just a hobby.
But over the years, it became something more.
This is my thank-you to cycling.

I’ve got lots.
A big pile of CDs—but they don’t really do anything. I listen to them some evenings.

But my biggest collection?
Cycling.

I used to think it was just a hobby.
Now I realise it’s not.
Cycling has shown me how to live.
It’s helped me through a lot—without ever asking for anything in return.
It’s not just a passion.
It’s who I am.

This is my love letter to cycling.

People ask me why I have such nice bikes.
But it’s not about me. I love bikes.
And when I build one, I build it how I think the bike would want to be.
Like I’m helping it become itself.

When I look at my bikes, they look fast—even standing still in my velotorium.
They sit there quietly, begging to be ridden hard.
And that inspires me to get on and ride.

Cycling gets me out of the house.
It takes me into the countryside, into the mountains.
I’ve ridden with groups and made real friends.
The kind of friends that feel like family.

Cycling has shown me how beautiful the world is.
And how good people can be.

I’ve had crashes. I’ve been injured.
But cycling didn’t hurt me.
I fell.
Drivers hit me. Bugs flew in my eye at 40mph.

But cycling?
Cycling taught me how to recover.
How to get back on.
How to heal.
How to come back stronger.

When I’m happy, I cycle.
When I’m sad, I cycle.
When I want to think—I cycle.
When I don’t want to think—I cycle.

People told me I wasn’t good.
That racing wasn’t worth it—I’d never win.
But legs don’t lie.
And cycling showed me the truth.
I dropped them.
I won.

It never judged me.
Never asked me to be someone else.
It never spoke—
but it taught me everything I needed to know.

When I forgot who I was,
it reminded me—
with every pedal stroke.

Cycling didn’t fix me.
It showed me
I didn’t need fixing.

It’s always been there for me.
And it always will be.
My bikes will always be waiting—
for the next ride.

When it all feels heavy,
I picture sunlight on my back.
The breeze on my skin.
The road ahead.
The quiet rhythm of freedom.

Thank you, cycling.
For the strength,
the stillness,
the truth.
For giving me a good life—
and asking for nothing in return.

There’s a truth to cycling.
You can’t fake it.

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