Well, I've officially made my last bike purchase before moving back to Arizona. And sometimes the universe just seems to want to balance things out.

Back when we first got up to Portland I bought my daughter an old Schwinn Bantam. At that point I knew nothing about bikes, but I knew she liked it and it looked solid enough, so I went ahead and bought it for her. I learned quickly that I'd paid too much for the bike to begin with, and that only got worse when I immediately had to replace the rear wheel because the hub was completely and totally shot. I cursed the scumbag who'd taken advantage of my ignorance, then got on with my life.

Fast forward a bit. Esther and I are searching for a couple of offroaders for when we get back to Tucson. We already found her a vintage Stumpjumper, and finally I see a bike that will work for me; it's a 90s Univega Alpina Pro, price is on the low end, and a check of bikeforums says this is a good choice for my needs. As I'm driving to look at the bike, the roads feel vaguely familiar, and as I make the last turn my suspicions are confirmed: I'm about to revisit an old friend.

The bike is in good shape. It fits. And today, fate is my friend. I offer slightly below the already too-low asking price, purely on principle. And I leave with a really nice bike, while he doesn't have the slightest idea of our prior dealings.

Looking at it now, I think this guy just doesn't know what he's doing (as opposed to being the malicious scumbag I'd first imagined). The two prices I've seen now appear arbitrary, and I think he just goes with his gut. Blissful ignorance. I, however, was offered a very neat bookend story for my Portland bike-buying experience, and I thought I'd share.