In article <
[email protected]>,
Ryan Cousineau <
[email protected]> writes:
> Don't listen to Tom.
That's good advice. As a 'for example', I'm currently considering detailing my fork blades with some
Celtic knotwork design, which is probably going to turn out to be a stoopid thing for me to attempt.
...
> I saw two bikes behind a dumpster while on a ride, confirmed they were up for grabs, then drove
> back with my car to nab them.
>
> My first good bike, a Mikado tourer, was another garage-sale recovery. It attempted to hide
> between a fairly bad Peugot and a very bad Apollo, but its protective camouflage and lack of
> decals could not hide its qualities. I nipped it up, put ugly bar tape and an orange seat on it,
> and gave it to my dad.
>
> The Pinarello, admittedly, hunted me down, and then seduced me with its
Actually, I think all these synchronicitous examples tend to support my conjectures. They're
certainly different than flipping through a catalogue, pointing to a particular model, and saying,
"That's the one I want."
In my own case, I've had many bikes come to me -- friends & acquaintances discover I'm into fixing
'em up, and they drop their old, neglected ones off like orphans at my doorstep. Okay, I've had no
hum-dinger DeVincis or Mariposas or Marinonis given to me. And I've also had some junk pawned-off on
me, too. But some of my 70's Japanese lugged steel frames are really elegant, and deserving of TLC.
But the synchronicity/destiny thing can work with brand new bikes, too. All it takes is to
impulsively, spur-of-the- momently step into a bike shop just to look around, and suddenly &
unexpectedly espy the apple of your eye, and you know it's Right. The trick is to not force it --
just bide your time and let it happen when the time is ripe.
So, Elisa, take heart. The bicycle gods demand that we first demonstrate that our hearts are
properly set toward riding before they do us any favours. You've already done that admirably, so
the ball is rolling. I believe they'll present you with the apple of your eye, and sooner than
you'd think.
And it'll be exactly the appropriate bicycle for you.
That appropriateness is why I'm stuck with ol' Pig Iron (a hoary, old, basic mountain bike from the
'80s), instead of a sleek, steel-framed, Campagnolo-equipped Marinoni Tourismo. But ol' Pig Iron and
I have been through a lot; the bike has turned out to be just the faithful, tough, utilitarian
workhorse I need, and I'm grateful for it. By the way, I just found this bike, abandoned after the
resolution of a local transit strike.
The bicycle gods move in mysterious ways. I just wistfully wish they'd set me up with some better
rims & tires. But I know they will, when the time is right.
cheers, Tom
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