Building some of my first frames for bike mechanics invited them to professional scrutiny that would be elucidated in pidgin french/spanish/english slang from a cadre of expert evaluators of all things bike by the colleagues of the friend that gave me a vote of confidence and a deposit. “Se que cacasa?”-What’s this shit? I’d hear as a finger went to the spot I knew that the weld got too fat or a transition wasn’t smooth on the frame I’d just finished.
Bringing by the latest for evaluation from the wrenches with regular opportunities to work on the kind of high dollar bikes that I’d had to emmulate the ride of in the one’s I’d built in lieu of coming up with the money to purchase as my own race bikes I felt a bit like I’d finally arrived when there was only “Bon CACA”-Good Shit. Now I’ve just got to do it again, and to just surpass the last one a little bit.
