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Old 06-19-08 | 07:03 PM
  #20  
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dobber
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Joined: Oct 2003
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From: In Ebritated
I bought my Jamis Durango in 94 with some lottery winnings. I rode it around the MUP a couple times a month during the summer. Would probably go a year or two without touching it though.

As my belly got bigger I became more dismayed about it. Around 99 or 00 I started riding almost every day during the spring, summer, fall. I gradually worked my way up to 20-30 mile rides, still wearing cotton shorts and sneakers.

In 2003 I really started riding in earnest. Not only my Durango but I got the old Peugeot down from the barn and started riding the roads. What fun. I bought a track bike that fall and my brother gave me his Lemond Alpe

In 2004 I decided to try riding to work. I'd thought about it before but thought it would be to big a challenge. My longer distances in 2003 had convinced me otherwise, so I did a practice run one weekend and followed up the next Monday.

First on the Durango, the shortest route possible. Then I started taking alternative routes, longer ones, turning 20 miles into 30 and 40. Next I tried it on the Peugeot, which was now a single speed. Then the track bike.

I bought another bike, a SR Litage MTB which I converted into a mini-touring bike. That fall I got a Surly 1x1 frame and outfitted it as a slow moving fixed gear bike to slog through the winter snow.

During the winter of 04-05 I built up my fixed Surly Cross-Check. I now had seven bikes. I would up converting my dads old Raleigh into a fixed gear so there were eight. The spring of 05 saw the addition of the Bridgestone XO3. All of them were pressed into commuting service, save the Lemond.

The last addition came in the winter of 05-06, with the Commuter/Touring Cross-Check. The dream machine. And then several months later I moved from a plant engineering role to a traveling engineer.

But I still ride, in fact I take longer more challenging rides on weekends.
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This is Africa, 1943. War spits out its violence overhead and the sandy graveyard swallows it up. Her name is King Nine, B-25, medium bomber, Twelfth Air Force. On a hot, still morning she took off from Tunisia to bomb the southern tip of Italy. An errant piece of flak tore a hole in a wing tank and, like a wounded bird, this is where she landed, not to return on this day, or any other day.
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