19 April 2005

wrestling with an italian

working on re-building a late 70's itala bike. campy valentino derailers, campy high flange hubs. i bought it pretty cheap thinking i would use the frame to make my *sob* new fixed gear bike since the schwinn is no longer. i seem to be into leaping before looking these days. last night i stripped the bike of it's derailers and rear brake, merrily clipping cables as i went. well, just the rear brake. "that's right, doc said no broken bones, i'm getting back on track." then i thought, "hey, maybe i'll do some research on the frame and components" because i thought the frame seemed a bit heavy. well, of course the frame is entry-level and the campy stuff is entry-level too. not a bad bike, but not what i want.

so, i spent this afternoon cleaning up the frame and this evening putting the bike back together to try and sell. the derailers are all f'ed up and i can't get them sorted. so i've effectively made a lot more work for myself and certainly a lot more frustration. couldn't have waited one more day before stripping the bike? damn.

i hate to reference "seinfeld," a show i admit i loved in college but haven't seen in years. but. . . remember the episode when george did the opposite of every one of his instincts and things started working out perfectly for him? i feel i should give that a whirl. i SAW the truck, i could have ducked off manhattan ave., dodged the situation alltogether. i KNEW the bike seemed heavy, why didn't i look into it before tearing the thing apart. . .fighting off the urge to feel sorry for myself, sink into a spiral of self-deprication. i miss the schwinn, i miss my uninjured foot, i miss things not going my way. . .

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