Sunday, five hours Did I ride my bicycle Or did it ride me? All This By Hand .

I ride a lot north of here on roads within Cockaponset State Forest and believe I know every turn and rideable surface. I may not have gone down every one, but today decided to ignore one of the many Dead End signs I’ve passed a thousand times since 1973. In Haddam I...

Bidon, dusty floor A watercolor study Two available All This By Hand .

An excerpt from a lovely note received this week from an original and longtime RS client. At 19, this was to be my 'forever' bike. I worked in bike shops all throughout college years, repairing all manner of inferior quality bikes. I wanted this bike to be special,...

Once you develop a routine (as in, what goes where), you become part of the score. In my workroom, I’m a dot connector. The conductor. I know from repetition and routine that the metal I'm holding or the tool on my bench – these have a place in the sound I want to...

It happens each season when the weatherman taps you to remind that this is the week. For me it was last Tuesday. Until then and for as long as I can remember, for as long as I want to remember, it was a pair of bibs and a jersey. The thermals were easy to find....

A couple maybe three weeks ago I posted several times showing a client’s RS painted in colors I first used some forty years ago. Anthracite and champagne. This originated on the Spanish Kas Team frames made by Masi in the early 1970s. Here’s me with one of my own...

I began selling my own castings and materials a year after the turn of the century. The Richie-issimo™ fork crown was followed by a lug set of the same name. Newvex™ parts were next. Then a bottom bracket shell for Richie-Issimo™. While these were being schemed, Dario...

This check arrived last October. A refund from the federal government. From Bobbe's tax return for 2017. She died November 24th that year. It's the last piece of her estate. The amount of paperwork and waiting it took for this is a book in itself. One I wish was never...

riding the bicycle i leave with questions i arrive with answers riding the bicycle All This By Hand .

The drill never gets old. Or routine. It becomes familiar. And more intimate. We know each other. One of us always leads. One of us always follows. I get close. But when I do, it turns to face the other way. We start again. All This By Hand .

Autumn. When we take a measure of things. And gather thoughts. Arrange them neatly. In some order of importance. Moving targets. All of them. The days shorten. Light becomes more precious. All This By Hand .

“Copying Momoyama pieces is transmission. Producing contemporary pieces incorporating Momoyama period techniques is tradition. Tradition consists of retaining transmitted forms and techniques in one’s mind when producing a contemporary piece. Tradition is always...

A late afternoon wonder about the industry I'm not in. Who writes this shit? I mean, is there a Don Draper roaming the halls somewhere? Is J. Walter Thompson alive again!? And the folks who put their bicycles into these boxes - they believe the words? And signed off...

One of the best dāyz this year. On a bicycle, that is. All of them, any of them, are good. But oh wow today according to my opinion. I was mile from home at a few moments after noon and still undecided regarding the loop, the time, or direction. Then I was taken. One...

In August I received an email from a client who ordered his RS during the tumultuously long lead tīmz that occurred in the late aughts. The bicycle shipped in 2017. The note included these images and some words pasted here. I am a bit embarrassed for not having...

Maybe twice each week my rides take me south along the shoreline. It’s an area that’s flatter and more open. Where I can stay seated longer. There are fewer trees and wider skies. So much of cycling is about tan lines. Mine is. For the last few years I’ve been...

Here’s to the days when you (I) do a three hour ride in two hours. The tīmz when you (I) don’t have all the time you want but - gosh darnit - you’re (I’m) gonna show the road who’s boss even if you (I) end up leaving it all on the road. Today was one of these. Clocks...

Sometimes a ride is just that. A ride. And nothing more. I have these. As infrequent as they come, they come. I’m out for the first 20-30 minutes wondering where everything is. My legs are welled up from standing at a workbench. The skies ain’t helping my tan lines....

Bruiser and I reconnected this past weekend. The kid rode for me, with me, in the early 1980s. Three seasons. Started as a 17-18 Junior and then did Seniors for a bit. The categories were different, but Mike was a strong Cat. 2 through it all. We’ve been in each...

Sometimes I leave the driveway and turn right and have no idea where I wanna go. There is no shortage of cool roads and places to ride. But every so often my mind can't make itself up. There are times when this happens that I go straight to the water line. We live...

Riding is for pondering. Especially now, it’s for pondering. Before, it was for other things. Among them, especially among them, it was for finding ways to turn myself inside out so I could do the same to those next to me on race weekends. I’m done with that. I’m a...

It takes me 110 minutes of pedaling to leave myself behind. That guy with bicycles to make, emails to answer, and tchotchkes to hustle. It’s good that most of my rides are twice this. Or longer. But even if I ended at the two hour mark, the ten minutes would be a...

I’m rearranging the chessboard we play on. This winter I asked @bbrittlee if she’d consider managing RSCX. She said yes. I’ve long watched her grow the women’s teams she owns and runs every summer. I’ve admired her ability to stay focused, bring in good sponsors, and...

Delightful. Four hours from driveway to driveway. Mine to mine. Once I get above Tylerville and into Haddam it becomes somewhere else. Where I am is cool. Somewhere else is cool too. Especially on empty roads. There’s a good network of gravel and dirt and a little...

I’m here testifying. Cleats have an expiration date. I changed mine last August readying for the 2019 CX season. Then raced. Kinda. Then quit after DCCX. Then kept riding through the ensuing months. By the way, ensuing is a word that we should use more in daily...

We all have these half-truths and little white lies. They’re part of the wall that shields us from reality. Mine began the day I started my label. Late June 1975. . Expectations can be a Hell. But we’re paid to meet them. And when you’re alone with no one left to ask,...

In the beginning. Every commission is three maybe four days of small decisions. Some get in the way of others. Sequence is often rearranged. I mean - the goal is to make a bicycle frame that's well designed and let's the client find an efficient and comfortable...

Few things are as evocative of my old hood (Bayonne, NJ) as the neighborhood candy store. The most I’d ever walk to find one was a block. Back then, they had soda and ice cream fountains, marble countertops with swivel stools, at least one often two pinball machines,...

The exploration continues. I got a late start today but snagged a good four hours, and rolled back into my driveway by 5:20PM. I’m taking tomorrow off. I cruised over to one of my favorite areas from the ‘90s era just to look around and take a measure of the changes....

I’m riding a lot this year. So much so that anything less than three hours almost seems like a mail run. That sounds terrible, and it’s so wrong. But most of my days on the bicycle in 2020 have been long ones. I’m mixing up the routine. Some days it’s across the river...

And in a heartbeat, we’re done. My last ‘cross bicycle, off to a new home half a globe away. With it goes my two sets of racing wheels along with a metric shit ton of Force 10 new and used spares I hoarded so I’d never be without. Alas. My first CX season was 2002....

Another five yesterday. And for most of the summer my fascination with the back (way, WAY back) roads across the river continues. Moodus and parts of East Haddam call my name. I open up Google Maps before I leave the driveway, and look for places to get lost in. For...

And when they’re not in my hand, pushing and pulling metal into different shapes, or playing hide and seek (especially the small sinewy ones), the little tools sit on my bench, wait patiently for their next moment, and watch my life go by. And just like the people who...

It was an idea that percolated and taunted me for years. And then one day I just walked up to the bench and did it. In my forth quarter I’m deconstructing as much as I can in an effort to pare down everything that isn’t essential. The B.I.F.I.™ rears became a thing in...

Saturday. Five hours. My first two bottle day. And one pack of Clif Bar Bloks In strawberry. Love these. They’re like Chuckles but without the colors. I think Chuckles would be a better snack to grab but with the plague, social distancing, and shopping with masks,...