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Finally getting settled in life, the townhouse needing little
in the way of repairs and
the maintenance men taking
care of the outside, I was
free to pursue my hobbies.
My favorite thing was to get
on a bicycle, pedaling to
unknown neighborhoods looking
for likely subjects for my
trusty camera. There was just
one hitch, I didn't have a
bicycle. Not that I couldn't
afford one, but the ones I
could afford were poorly made
consisting of rubbery-feeling
gears, intermittent anemic
brakes and uncomfortable seats.
What I wanted was a fast hybrid
bike with eighteen precisely
engaging gears and brakes
that would slow my one hundred
eighty pounds down a steep
hill without smoking. Of course
there are custom bikes assembled
from top-of-the-line European
components that cost thousands
of dollars. I'm not talking
about those. Just a decent
quality bike that would last
ten years with TLC and a little
luck. Bikes at this level
of quality cost from four
to five hundred dollars -
an amount not even in my wildest
moment could I rationalize.
Occasionally on my trips to
the local dumpsters, someone
would discard an old bike
for pick- up. These relics
of twenty years ago were the
rusted remains of now-college-age
spoiled children who left
them out in the rain one too
many times. They never adjusted
the brakes or gears and probably
only rode them one year before
relegating them to the garage
rafters. Mostly sporting ten
speeds and riding on skinny
bump-sensitive tires, these
cheap Japanese imports flooded
the market in the seventies.
I would walk them home, flat
tires thumping on the pavement,
trailing spider webs and loose
brake cables. In a week, I
would have them straightened,
polished to a show room gloss
and working as well as they
did when new. A flyer in the
local super market would result
in a call from a beleaguered
father of four pre-teens looking
for the cheap alternative
bike. His kids would ruin
them in a few months anyway,
so these out-or-date but looking-like-new
bikes fit the bill perfectly.
In one month I recycled four
ten-speeds for one hundred
dollars. A trip to Sears garnered
me a heavy looking cruiser
bike with fat tires, only
six speed gears and handlebars
that swept back for upright
pedaling. The quality, or
lack of it, was a trade off
for the low price of seventy
nine dollars.For five years,
I enjoyed the Sears bike,
putting up with the rubbery
feeling gears and the constant
adjustments to the brakes.
It, of course still looked
like new with the constant
polishing and attention, but
I was unhappy with the performance.
Then one day I visited the
dumpster behind a large bicycle
shop. There were parts of
bikes all over the ground,
run over bikes, bikes with
no wheels, rusted hulks of
bikes and bikes with no parts
at all. But there on the top
of the heap was a beautiful
jade green Diamond Back hybrid
bike. The front wheel was
pretzel shaped, but the rest
was in pretty good shape.
I examined the gears and was
surprised to see Shimano gears
of the eighteen speed variety.
Evidentially a trade in for
a newer model, this discard
was just what I wanted. Back
home in the cellar, I found
an almost identical wheel
for the front end and proceeded
to restore the Diamond Back
to its former glory. I had
been saving an expensive lightweight
solid aluminum rear carrier
that fit perfectly. Twenty
hours of intense labor and
two coats of gloss lacquer
later I tenderly carried the
result of my efforts upstairs.
The sun sparkled off polished
spokes as I wheeled it to
the road. Settling on my new
gel-soft seat, I took off
slowly, the gears snicking
like a Swiss watch into the
higher gears. Compared to
my Sears clunker, this bike
wanted to go. It floated above
the road on its ball bearings,
a secret hidden motor seeming
to propel it without effort.
Back at my front step, I braked
firmly to a fast stop, without
the usual vibration and squeak
of complaint. I was now in
bicycle heaven and it didn't
cost me a dime. Retired portrait
photographer. Hobbies include
graphic arts, photography,
singing and fixing things.
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