Yesterday I got up early. I had heard tell that there was a nice '77 Raleigh Grand Prix mixte without a home, and I just wasn't about to stand for that.

Despite the fact that it was humid as a fat man's crack, and neigh on 100F, I hopped on my bike, and rode the 5 miles to the Raleigh's location. I was dripping with sweat, and everyone was looking at me as if to say, "Did he just ride here on that bike? Is he getting another bike? How is he going to get that bike home?!?" After spending 20 minutes in the sun trying to tie the bike to the other bike to tow it, and failing every time, I just grabbed the stem with my left hand, and controlled my bike with my right hand, and ghosted the thing home.

At one point, cruising along at about 15mph I came upon a dead fox in the road. With no space to move myself and the other bike around the fox in either direction, I straddled my weight between the two bikes, canting them both inwards. Then as we approached the fox, I veered the ghost bike left, and my bike right. I was left dangling over the fox's decaying body, my weight split between the bikes, as the contraption flew past the fox, just missing both the head and the tail. On the other side I brought them side by side again, and resumed my normal riding position. Then I lamented about the fact that I felt totally hardcore for having made that manueuver, when everyone watching probably just thought I was drunk and couldn't ride properly.

Then I cleaned it up, took it for a test ride, and nearly passed out from the heat. Then, not to be defeated, I pulled myself together, and cleaned the basement. It was a huge mess, and is now very nice! It took hours and hours. I screwed a bunch of hooks in the ceiling so I could hang up the bikes, and now, with all the extra space (I probably quadrupled the floor space), I'm thinking, "Boy, now I've got room for all KINDS more bikes!" Dangerous thoughts...

Then I spraypainted an art-bike's chain red. No good for efficiency, lots of fun for appearances.

peace,
sam