I hear Pub crawls are a fun way to see the sites. There is nothing better than seeing the world from a bar stool with a pint or two of the local favorite.
Carla and I do somewhat the same, but ours is a local bike shop crawl. Sometimes there is no better way to find out about the local scene than to hang out in the local LBS.
We were visiting our home away from home, Toronto, for the Memorial Day weekend (bank holiday).
We left Carla’s house Saturday morning to have the oil changed in the car. Plans are sometimes best left as plans. We were in front of the dealership when Carla realized she had miscalculated the interval and we still had the return trip’s worth the mileage before we were obligated. We turned in the direction of home. The only thing that was between us and home was about a dozen good shops. It only took us three in a 1 block radius to occupy the rest of our afternoon. We slowed as we passed the first shop. Carla told me how they were also a motorcycle shop. Lately we have had more than a passing interest in purchasing a couple of motorcycles. This would be a great opportunity to feed both bike passions. We entered to the well lit airy space. They had a very nice selection, a smattering of the latest and greatest. Looking up on the walls were hanging all manor of historical examples of mountain biking. Old rigid Ritchies, Specialized, a funny old example of Full suspension by Pacific. A very interesting display. We looked at the selection of newer bikes. A Rocky Mountain with 24” wheels caught my eye and Carla was looking over a Norco jumping bike. We strolled through the shop and did some ogling. It is a very nice shop, not too expensive with a great selection.
The salesman came over after giving us ample time to look around and asked us if we were looking for anything in particular. We inquired as to the motorcycles. Which as it turned out were at the old location down the block.
After a trip over there that ate about an hour of our time. I noticed someone locking up a very sweet looking fixie. He has an old Gardin in perfect condition. He was walking into a very old looking shop. We headed over there. There could not have been a bigger difference in the two shops. There were all manor of old school bikes outside. The first impression I had of the shop was the smell of aged grease. The next thing was the old cranky Italian guy telling people not to touch anything in broken English. He was wearing some old ratty apron and he was covered in grease. He looked haggard. I knew right away I was at home. There was stuff EVERYWHERE hanging, in old grease stained boxes, piled on the floor. There wasn’t a square inch that wasn’t occupied with something interesting. If curiosity killed the cat this placed absolutely murdered Carla and me. The place was stacked with old, road bikes, Chinese cruiser bikes, and old school mountain bikes. Things were basically in three categories, fully built, half built or parts. Carla eagerly disappeared into the depths. I just stood taking it all in. He had an amazing array of old Italian frames. I looked up and there was the sweetest Pogliaghi track bike on the wall. It’s tubbies were flat and dry rotted. The saddle looked like it was bit rotten as well, but it shined like the best FS bike I have ever seen. Next to it a beautiful old Hardwick track bike hung there. Carla asked aloud who’s Gardin was locked up outside and some girl chimed in… that guy over there. He came over as if he was called. We had a longish conversation about fixie riding. He pointed out a garishly painted frame in the corner and gave me the 5-0 that it was also a Pogliaghi frame that was mislabeled. Carla called me over to show me this really cool Colnago mountain bike spec'ed out with the old Campy mtb group. He was getting a damn high price for everything, but this old guy was not dumb. He knew the value of his stuff.
I left with my head spinning, the smell of ancient grease and the thought of all the mileage these bikes had seen. Judging by the cliental I imagine many more miles would be brought to life in these bikes and bike bits.
We walked down the street I begged Carla for the old Pogliaghi. It is a lugged piece of art. She agreed that there was some amazing stuff to be found there… Maybe some day.
There are a million bike shops in this city… each one has a story.
Jimbo(san)
Carla and I do somewhat the same, but ours is a local bike shop crawl. Sometimes there is no better way to find out about the local scene than to hang out in the local LBS.
We were visiting our home away from home, Toronto, for the Memorial Day weekend (bank holiday).
We left Carla’s house Saturday morning to have the oil changed in the car. Plans are sometimes best left as plans. We were in front of the dealership when Carla realized she had miscalculated the interval and we still had the return trip’s worth the mileage before we were obligated. We turned in the direction of home. The only thing that was between us and home was about a dozen good shops. It only took us three in a 1 block radius to occupy the rest of our afternoon. We slowed as we passed the first shop. Carla told me how they were also a motorcycle shop. Lately we have had more than a passing interest in purchasing a couple of motorcycles. This would be a great opportunity to feed both bike passions. We entered to the well lit airy space. They had a very nice selection, a smattering of the latest and greatest. Looking up on the walls were hanging all manor of historical examples of mountain biking. Old rigid Ritchies, Specialized, a funny old example of Full suspension by Pacific. A very interesting display. We looked at the selection of newer bikes. A Rocky Mountain with 24” wheels caught my eye and Carla was looking over a Norco jumping bike. We strolled through the shop and did some ogling. It is a very nice shop, not too expensive with a great selection.
The salesman came over after giving us ample time to look around and asked us if we were looking for anything in particular. We inquired as to the motorcycles. Which as it turned out were at the old location down the block.
After a trip over there that ate about an hour of our time. I noticed someone locking up a very sweet looking fixie. He has an old Gardin in perfect condition. He was walking into a very old looking shop. We headed over there. There could not have been a bigger difference in the two shops. There were all manor of old school bikes outside. The first impression I had of the shop was the smell of aged grease. The next thing was the old cranky Italian guy telling people not to touch anything in broken English. He was wearing some old ratty apron and he was covered in grease. He looked haggard. I knew right away I was at home. There was stuff EVERYWHERE hanging, in old grease stained boxes, piled on the floor. There wasn’t a square inch that wasn’t occupied with something interesting. If curiosity killed the cat this placed absolutely murdered Carla and me. The place was stacked with old, road bikes, Chinese cruiser bikes, and old school mountain bikes. Things were basically in three categories, fully built, half built or parts. Carla eagerly disappeared into the depths. I just stood taking it all in. He had an amazing array of old Italian frames. I looked up and there was the sweetest Pogliaghi track bike on the wall. It’s tubbies were flat and dry rotted. The saddle looked like it was bit rotten as well, but it shined like the best FS bike I have ever seen. Next to it a beautiful old Hardwick track bike hung there. Carla asked aloud who’s Gardin was locked up outside and some girl chimed in… that guy over there. He came over as if he was called. We had a longish conversation about fixie riding. He pointed out a garishly painted frame in the corner and gave me the 5-0 that it was also a Pogliaghi frame that was mislabeled. Carla called me over to show me this really cool Colnago mountain bike spec'ed out with the old Campy mtb group. He was getting a damn high price for everything, but this old guy was not dumb. He knew the value of his stuff.
I left with my head spinning, the smell of ancient grease and the thought of all the mileage these bikes had seen. Judging by the cliental I imagine many more miles would be brought to life in these bikes and bike bits.
We walked down the street I begged Carla for the old Pogliaghi. It is a lugged piece of art. She agreed that there was some amazing stuff to be found there… Maybe some day.
There are a million bike shops in this city… each one has a story.
Jimbo(san)
