Once upon a time my every day bike, a black Surly Cross Check set up as a 44x17 fixed gear, was just a frame hanging on a wall in my man cave. There it hung for a month or two while I collected bits and pieces to bolt to it, handmade wheels; an old, white, Italian saddle; a new, heavy-duty chainring. And then I brought it to life, redeemed it from a life of dusty wall-hanging.
And now I ride it nearly every day. It is my road whore. It is my speed machine. It is my death bringer and head banger and quad burner.
And when my day is bad, and I need a helping hand, and nothing is very much fun anymore, that bike picks me up by the scruff of the neck. It launches me off curbs. It marshals the winds and washes the gray right out of my hair. Calgon! Calgon! Take me the fuck away!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment