But you feel you've earned every solitary inch of every mile. That journey has been well and truly fought for, made by you and the bike, not given to you. The resistance training potential appears huge, and every acceleration is a moment of personal triumph, of glee, the feeling that yes, there is some push there hiding in these rather average legs. The bike might be wider and not get through gaps between car and kerb without some serious potential of scratching paintwork, but in its favour it can get out of those situations by bouncing up kerbs. It also tackles with some degree of fierceness potholes which the flimsy delicate road bike simply recoils in horror from, like a dainty ballet dancer horrified that she might get her pointy pink feet at all dirty. The mountain bike just grins and wallops onwards, fearless and a little bit careless. The road bike appears neurotic against the burliness of the MTB.
So yes, I feel guilty because the mountain bike although slow and hard work is enjoyable for a chance commute to work, it has none of the precision needs of the road bike, and I have to say not the same maintenance needs, the road bike currently being nursed through a shifter breakdown at the local bike shop.
And this ambivalent feeling of guilt and disloyalty to the bike has been brought to you by 10cc ...
"Don't tell your friends about the two of us". Because shhh, it's a secret.