As you can see from the willows in the distance, the wind was blowing, and now that the temperatures are trending downward for autumn it's far easier to forsake the Lycra without sweating through your clothes and looking like you've wet your pants.
Alas, today it is raining steadily and heavily, so instead of riding I retreated to the basement where I finally got around to packing up the Drysdale Special for its return journey to Classic Cycles on Bainbridge Island, WA:
While technically my last ride on this bike was last week when my son and I rolled on over to the park, my last "proper" ride (meaning with the ballet shoes and so forth) was to Central Park last weekend:
In my 11-ish years of typing words into this electronic box a lot of bicycles have passed between my legs, but the Drysdale stands out--mostly because it's old as shit, to be fair, but also because the experience of riding and old-as-shit bicycle is nothing short of revelatory inasmuch as by 1950 the road racing bicycle had already attained a state of considerable awesomeness:
Indeed, I will now acutely feel the absence of a vintage bicycle in my stable, and I've now got half a mind to put one together for myself. (Though fortunately I've got another half a mind to save the time and energy and not bother.) I'm also grateful to have had extensive firsthand experience with landmark bicycle componentry such as the Campagnolo Gran Sport derailleur, with which the Drysdale is equipped:
I do sort of regret racing the bike, and I did consider it. However, the reason I ultimately decided not to was because, well, it's fucking old, and I didn't want to be the fucking asshole who crashes half the field because his 60+ year-old crankarm snapped.
Anyway, I imagine it won't be my last spin back in time, as Classic Cycles have already indicated I may be in line for a vintage mountain bike next.
Guess I'd better shake out the jorts and grow myself a mustache.
from Bike Snob NYC https://ift.tt/2QWT7iE
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