The most awesome thing about biking is just how many people regardless of level of brokenness still have an opportunity to enjoy the sport. The filthy rich shop with us, as do the plain ol’ filthy. It’s all good.
I was helping out a gentleman the other day who looked like the kind of fella that never leaves the house without at least 2 g’s in his Vucana wool lined pockets. That said his tires pop just as easily as mine do. The cycling gods don’t give two fucks about who you are or who you think you may be. He tells me that he’s off on his way to the Hamptons and he needs a few tubes just in case. He became a whole lot less snooty. He was prepared to roll up the sleeves on his Givenchy to do a flat repair. Self made man possibly? I don’t know, but the conversation steered its way towards alcohol with me sitting in the captain’s chair.
I tell him that a beer is in my future. He shares with me that he was never a beer guy and that wine was more his fare. More beer for me more wine for him.
The Body Builder
It’s customary to offer to carry out a customers bike. It’s chivalrous in some cases and in other cases quite useless.
A woman comes in to purchase a bike. Someone else has down the heavy lifting of finding her ideal new partner. I help set her saddle and congratulate her on her purchase. As she is preparing to leave her partner walks in the door. His shoulders clear the door frame but not by much. His muscles weighed more than me. The Crusher!!!! Some people live for the gym and others live in it. I’m sure in that gym on the walls hung a sign that stated, “Cardio is Fags” or “Get Ripped or Get Lost”
I offer stupidly and out of habit to bring her bike out to their car. He looks back at me muscles glistening and shit and tells me that he’s got this. I don’t even bother to hold in my gut.
Firm Handshake Man
A lot of shit has changed over time. It’s totally acceptable for gangsters to wear skinny jeans, a cup of coffee to cost $3.00 and biblical movies to be trendy. Side Note: I think its fucking awesome that studios need big name stars to sell movies about biblical happenings. It’s the bible! The star power is in the book.
I had sold a guy on a rack for his car. The deal wasn’t complete to him until we shook on it. Sounds good. A nice throwback. Our first flesh-press was firm but not the kind this magnate was accustomed to. He asked for a do-over. I obliged. We took all of one anothers hands and strongly shook them. He made a man of me. The only thing we neglected to do was spit in our hands first. In another time without the saliva the agreement would not have been ironclad. Different times indeed…