“Oh no,” I thought. “How much is this going to cost me?”

I had led myself into a real quandary. I left my Trek bike pretty much dormant in my garage for two years under the misconception that a Kryptonite lock, for which I had lost the key, had the front wheel and frame in an unbreakable embrace for eternity. But when I moved, I discovered that while hopelessly locked, the anti-theft device was not actually on the bike. The bike was very ride-able. So why wasn’t I riding?

Yes, my body seemed to need some re-education on balance before I could feel comfortable back in the saddle. But I also convinced myself that my bike needed a tune-up. I don’t think it ever had one, or at least probably not for seven years or so.

How do you determine how much you will spend on reconditioning something you haven’t used in years while part of the reason you haven’t used it is total confidence in its condition? Would I ride it more if it was greased or equipped with a new derailleur, or would plunking down a lot of cash on a tune-up be like making a New Year’s resolution to walk 10,000 steps a day when I really don’t like to walk?

It’s hard to figure these things out at the bike store. The people at bike stores love bikes. Most bike salesmen or tune-up experts use their bikes as their main mode of transportation. They usually are twenty-something guys, vegetarians and fitness vigilantes (Did someone say less than 11% body fat?) who spend more money on their bikes than anything else they own. How could I expect them to understand how my bike was left untouched for two whole years? Unnecessarily?

I pedaled slowly to On The Route, a nearby emporium for custom and commercial grade two-wheelers. I felt embarrassed. I recalled how my mother would clean our home the day before our cleaning lady’s once a week visit. I, too, did not like the idea of letting someone see how I had let myself go, I mean, let my bike go.

Two guys wheeled the bike behind the counter and put it on some sort of rack where they checked out the mechanics. They squeezed the hand brakes and turned the pedal crank at different speeds. They looked at my wide mountain terrain tires and asked me whether I did more off-road or urban cycling.

“A basic tune-up is $80,” the mechanic began. “You need new brakes, but the derailleur is fine. You might think about getting new tires. Then you’d need tubes too. If you are riding more in the city, the ride would be smoother…”

They were not pushy with any of their recommendations. I am sure they encountered hordes of customers who were operating with far tighter budgets, but it was clear they would shoot the works on reconditioning their own rides. Why would I hesitate? I pay money to belong to a health club whether I go or not. I defer to my car mechanic when he tells me I need a such and such type of arm or hose.

I had to consider that I have been more accustomed to responding to emergencies, to fixing things when they’re broke, to spending money when it feels like I have no choice. I haven’t given much thought to preventative maintenance types of programs and the headaches they could help me avoid. Now that John and I have bought a new house, we’ve given thought to creating a reserve fund for emergencies, but I haven’t thought about budgeting for maintenance.

I went for the basic tune-up and decided not to buy new tires. I bought a helmet too. I am not sure that investing in a tune-up for my bike will provide the necessary motivation for me to ride regularly, although I hope so. But it has helped me focus my awareness on the intrinsic value of tune-ups in general, in investing for the long haul – and that’s no small thing.