Wow I got a bike called a er, ah BLANCHI? It's this really icky blue-green color, and it's got some cheepo eyetailian parts called, er, ah Campag jenoli stuper reek, er rekert? It's in good shape, almost like new. Well it's from eye tye land so I'm sher it ain't worth nuthin, right? It has some kinda funny tires some fool glued together and stuck on the wheels, says theys made outta silk, ha! just like girlie girl stockings. So I'm gonna make a fixie out of it.

We gonna needa ta seea summa pickachures.

and no Eyetee food

I want American food, dammit. I want some French Fries!

Classic.

You're not allowed to make a fixie out of it unless you own the entire series of of special-edition "chain and cog" Vans.

-Kurt

I confess I almost could have been that guy in the OP when I got my Pinarello, the bike that started my collecting habit. I first saw it last summer at the neighborhood street sale; the seller was perched with a buddy on the back of a run-down trailer full of assorted junk. A couple of bikes were propped against the trailer, because, I realized, they didn't even have kickstands! Geez, how cheap! All bikes come with a kickstand!

The guy, about thirty or so, saw me looking at the red bike, and called out to me, "Three bikes for three bucks! Get 'em outta here!" It was the red paint that caught my eye. So, since he got my attention, I stepped up into his driveway to look at the red bike propped against the trailer. Most of the larger decals had rubbed off, but there were still the block letters P-I-N-A-R-E-L-L-O spelled out on the bottom of the bike (I later learned these are the chainstays). The other, smaller decals that remained intact were in Italian. I can't read Italian!

The tires were very skinny and very flat, and there were nicks in the paint job all over the bike. No wonder he wanted to get rid of it for a dollar, along with all the other junk in the trailer. I just shook my head and continued on my way back home. Just another bike name I'd never heard of. I didn't need to bring home any more junk.

But the Italian words on the bike nagged at me as I walked the two blocks back home. That, and the Olympic rings on one decal. I could tell that meant the brand had been in the 1988 Olympics. So, when I got back to the house, I thought I'd look it up on the Internet, but I'd already forgotten the name on the bike.

My son was already on the computer, so I asked him to do a search on all Italian bicycle manufacturers, and amazingly, there was just such a list. I recognized the "P" name, Pinarello, and had him go to that site. We looked at a couple of models and my jaw dropped. The top of the line model was priced at seven thousand dollars. The lowest priced model was a kids bike, at twelve hundred dollars. I couldn't believe it. A bike that cost more than a late model used car?

So I bolted out the door and back up the street, where I met my then-15-year-old daughter just returning from the sale. I asked her to follow me to help bring home my purchase. Two blocks later, the bikes were still there, and the seller was still willing to sell them for three dollars. A red 1989 Pinarello cyclocross bike. A very lightweight Raleigh USA he'd repainted in several bright colors, used to train for triathlons. And a gray Bianchi frame with handlebars. All with components with names like Campagnolo and Cinelli. I didn't grasp the significance of those names, either, until I looked them up.

I spent a lot of time online researching these items, which led me to Sheldon Brown's site and then here. I learned enough that I realized I had received an unbelievable bargain, so I took my daughter with me the next day to find the seller and ensure he didn't sell them by mistake (or perhaps stole them). But no. They had been cluttering his mom's garage or barn for years, he cleaned out the whole mess (hence the trailerful of junk), and he was happy to let them go. I think the fact that he was married with a toddler and a house had something to do with it.

So -- but for this chance encounter, I might yet today be ignorant of "eyetalian" bicycles, and all the rest of it. Now I've got a hobby I think I'll have the rest of my life (along with all the others). Thank you, Bike Forums Classic & Vintage members, for your advice and assistance in all things bike-related.

Great story! I'm glad it's repeated 3 times, because it looked loooong! Pinarello cyclocross frame? Score!

Same with my Raleigh DL-1. I bought it at a garage/estate sale. The owner had died, and his daughter's mother-in-law goes to my church and she was going to put it up in the church garage sale. I saw it early and bought it.

I had no idea what "rod brakes" where when I got it... or a Brooks saddle, or any of that. I know now.

OP- subtlety is a beautiful thing when it comes to humor. Think about this next time.

So it is ! I hadn't noticed because I was too daunted after the first couple of paragraphs.

OK, thanks for the tip, I fixed it now. Apparently, while I am no longer ignorant of Italian bicycles, I am still ignorant of how to use cut-and-paste!

It was a good story; can't blame you for wanting to tell it more than once!

Pinarello cyclocross bike!

Wow.

Just. Wow.