Hi Gang,
Sorry for the delay. I've got this monor inconvience known as WORK to deal with. Been in a frame repair/painting frenzy for the past few days. Got this new puppy to deal with also. She's the cutest pain in the ass you've ever seen. I know Chuck has ants in his pants for me to finish up. So here we go.
I left off last about to detail the evening dinner on Sat. nite; what could be called "the main dinner" at these events. Pretty much everyone who is going to be there is present and the full flavor of the event is evident. We had the same room in the Boca de Beppo that we had last year. I suppose they figured might as well contain the ruckus and the damage to one room in the place. I understand the damage from last years food fight (red sauce stains everwhere) has just recently been repaired! For those of you who have not experienced one of these gatherings I have to mention that these meals are often the time that one makes the best friends. There is a combination atmosphere of one large entity, living, breathing, laughing, gabbing; and several more local circles. As I mentioned, Dave Staub was a literal fountain of information/stories about the life of a young American bike racer in the 50's and 60's. I don't know how Dave was able to eat and talk so much all at the same time, but he's one talented dude. I was sitting at the opposite end of the table just out of earshot of the exchange between Chuck, Peter Johnson, and Dave. I could see the hands flailing and the food vanishing but wasn't catching any conversation. The social end of the table included Karen Schuckman (correct spelling this time), Wayne Bingham, and myself. The volume was up there as I noticed several times it was difficult to hear everything being said by the persons next to you. I enjoyed the company of two of our right side members who I don't get to see very often. I had the pleasure of a little break in the action as we discussed various topics not neccessarily related to bicycles. Several plates of savory Italian food circulated and we devoured everything. Not sure who ordered the "rubber bands in red sauce" but I decided to give some of it a try. Real chewy all right! I think the Italians call it Calamari; I'd rather eat used inner tubes, thank you. Had to wash it down with beer and ravioli. After scrubbing my mouth with a bread stick I was back to "normal?". We left the smart-alec twin brothers and the rest of our servers with a major mess to clean up. I would imagine they've got it cleaned up by now, but I hear we get the plastic sheet treatment next time.
We decided to roam the crowded streets of Pasadena on this fine Sat. evening. The streets were packed with eyewash as we walked around in search of the Gelati place. I think Chuck steared us around the long way so we could get the feel for this place. It reminded me of Main Street in Disneyland; all except for the Victorias Secret store where we ended up congregating as we smeared Gelati on our tongues. OK, so I had some up as far as my eyebrows; but I really know how to enjoy my ice cream! We hung out there for a while and finally the party fizzled. After all, the following day was "the big show".
Sunday. Another beautiful day in paradise. The ride in the morning formed up in the parking lot as the more "hardcore" swappers or persons with a lot of bikes to show started moving into the secluded glen where the show/swap takes place. Krispy Kream gutbombs and coffee, the breakfast of champions, has again been provided by our attentive hosts Sherry and Chuck Schmidt. I guess I was little out of line when I stood under the spigot of the coffee urn and drained it directly into my mouth. No one mentioned using a cup, besides I needed to wash this crust of frosting off of my face after going face first into the box of donuts. And you wonder where my puppy gets her bad manners? Nothing like a sugar rush to inspire me to haul a bunch of bikes into the setup area. I love this time of the event as much as anything. I'd like to be on the ride but I actually prefer to watch the arena fill up with unbelieveable bikes. The final day the total number of attendees are due to appear. I'm anxiously awaiting the arrival of my special buddy Joe Bell as Maurice Bresnahan and I prepare for the day. By the time the bike ride gets back the place has filled up with 107 really cool bikes. I know this is only a fraction of the stuff that is in the possesion of listmembers. Each event we have to select a portion of our holdings to bring out and still the place gets packed with an ever widening selection of vintage iron.
This is taking longer than I had hoped. I'll conclude a little later today with my thoughts and observations about the Art Stump bikes that were present. A few conversations took place amongst framebuilders relative to the Stump bikes which I suspect are a little different than most of the talk about these creations amongst other participants. My perspective is just another angle to approach appreciating the craft of framebuilding. Since I see mass quantities of bikes of this caliber all the time I don't spent a tremendous amount of time looking at the bikes. I've seen many of them in bare metal and am intimately accquainted with a large number of them since I did the work. It is nice to see the finished bike, but I spend most of my time talking to as many people as I can. It's very special to be able to visit with everyone while examples of almost everything you can imagine are on display. "Colnago Row" was excellent and I will have a '70 and a '73 to add to the line up next year. The resource of bikes with original paint and decals is awsome. Getting all these bike together at once also helps us quickly learn how to identify bikes by details that dictate the year of construction. I learn a lot at these events. Every year there are some surprises. One thing I have noticed is that there are more variations to some of the common frames than I would have thought. I am noting the Colnago and Masi details myself.
I'll also include in my finale observations of Pergolizzis' "Trial by Trike". Stay tuned as John says "damn, how do you steer this thing; this friggin' thing is haunted!". I wish I had a video camera. Maurice and I were in mortal fear of inciting the Roague Parrotts of Pasadena to attack us as we roared in laughter. Priceless.
Brian Baylis La Mesa, CA Up to my eyeballs in bike crap. How do you housebreak a bike, anyway?