Some 40 years ago, to my parents dismay, I spray painted my first real bicycle. Front to back, white to black with drop-D bars: it looked fast sitting still and it was one of a kind. To me, it was fashion, an expression, rolling art. In my mid-twenties, the bike rolled back into my life as a tool to become more active, healthy and social. I soon crashed that bike and decided to take on the challenge to rebuild it (mostly out of necessity). I learned from failure; twice.
After rebuilding it, I immediately crashed again. The frame was bent and simply not repairable. Guess who now knows how to spot a bent frame? I certainly know what riding one feels like as well as the subsequent feeling of road rash. I bought a new frame and rebuilt the bike once again. I was hooked. Today, retired from GM, I ride mostly for enjoyment (let’s face it, it’s easier to “walk” the dogs while riding) and peddle bicycles as a side business by building, restoring and repairing them for people of all ages, for all the various reasons that the bike has been a part of my life for half a century.