Ode Upon An Old Brooks B72, or It's Not About Narrowing the Search

Ode Upon An Old Brooks B72, or It's Not About Narrowing the Search

There once was a re-cycled but(t) alluring leather saddle, That proved too wide for DVT's narrow
pelvis to straddle. He as(s)ked RBT for some fast tips To broaden his half--er, skinny hips, And now
Van Tol's seat brooks no dimensional problems at-all.

(DVT once questioned the narrow width of my posts. Browsing for scurrilous inspiration, I was
delighted to find an old post from him concerning the width of a fabled cowhide bicycle-throne that
he discovered in a dumpster:

> I found an old Brooks B72 on a junkyard bike recently. I tried it out tonight and it was too wide,
> as I suspected. But I really liked the feel of the saddle other than the wide back end.

[snip]

> I don't expect anyone to specify my saddle, but I hope that I can get a suggestion or two that
> will narrow my search.

Fundamentally, it's not about narrowing the search, it's about widening Dave's--well, let us hope
that Gayle put the question behind her when asked whether the salvaged Brooks saddle made Dave's
hips look wide.)

Next week: Zog the Undeniable

 

Calf Ogler wrote:
> DVT once questioned the narrow width of my posts.

I did, and I sometimes wonder if that was a Freudian slip.

Dave dvt at psu dot edu

 

(with apologies to Richard Thompson)

Red Molly to James said, nice saddle on your bike, A girl could feel special on any such like. Said
James to Red Molly, well, my hat's off to you It's a Brooks leather saddle, B72 And I've seen you at
the corners and cafes it seems Red hair and black spandex, my favourite colour scheme And on their
bikes they did climb And down to Boxhill they did ride.

Said James to Red Molly, here's a ring for your right hand But I'll tell you in earnest, I'm a bike-
racing man: I've raced in Cat-1 since I was seventeen I raced many a man to get my racing machine
Now I'm 21 years, I might make 22 And I don't mind dying, but for the love of you And if fate should
break my stride, I'll give you my Brooks to ride.

Come down, come down, Red Molly, called Doctor McRae, For the ambulance has taken young James Adie
away Crashed the bike, hit his head, left bleeding inside Come down, Red Molly, to his dying
bedside. When she came to the hospital, there wasn't much left He was running out of road, he was
running out of breath But he smiled to see her cry Said, I'll give you my Brooks to ride.

Said young James, in my opinion, there's nothing in this world Beats a B72 and a red-headed girl
Now, Ideale and Persons-Majestic won't do They don't have a seat like a B72 He reached for her hand,
and he gave her his keys He said, I don't have any further use for these I see angels in lycra on
Paramounts of chrome Swooping down from heaven to carry me home He gave her one last kiss and died
And he gave her his Brooks to ride.

 

On Sat, 31 Jan 2004 00:11:08 -0800, LioNiNoiL at NetScApE_DoT_NeT
<[email protected]> wrote:
>Crashed the bike, hit his head, left bleeding inside

H*LM*T WAR!!!
--
Rick Onanian