Any time I see a very old bicycle, my mind has this habit of telling myself that back in the day it didn’t appear so primitive. I want to give those crafters the benefit of much doubt and pre-concede that when the bike, penny-farthing, draisine or whatever was new, it looked more sophisticated and refined that what I am invariably viewing. That is partly because when I lived in New England, every bike shop I worked in had the remnants of something bike-type object from before World War II (in one case from before WWI), and those were mostly rusting hunks of metal that weighed as much as a full-grown German Shepherd. This video puts a certain amount of that to rest, and fills me with a sense of gratitude that so many crazy people tried what were clearly bad ideas on the way to us riding things like the modern full-suspension mountain bike.

When playing drums in a rock and roll band didn't turn at to be as lucrative as he'd hoped, Padraig left his hometown of Memphis to pursue an MFA in poetry at UMASS Amherst. Writing about his other love, bicycles, seemed a natural progression; certainly it paid better than either poetry or rock music. His work has appeared everywhere from Bicycling Magazine to the LA Times. His feature, "My Day With Ilya," won a Lowell Thomas Award for travel writing. These days he lives in Sonoma County, California, where he attempts to inspire his two demitasse ninja with the wonder of bikes. Favorites: flavor: maple; wine: Boheme Pinot Noir; beer: Russian River Pliny the Elder; neurochemical: dopamine; poetry: Andrew Hudgins; fiction: Thomas Pynchon; music: David Sylvian; comedy: Firesign Theater; event: 8-Hours of Wente.
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