From my journals at Peddie. 1970. Words I never forgot. Kept closer to heart sometimes more than others. But never forgot. We think of ourselves as personalities when we should know ourselves as organisms. Someone something with a higher power flicked a switch and...

When routine becomes monotony. Doubt is served with berries at breakfast. Between slices of toast midday. And as a full meal at six. Who am I fooling. What are walls for. To keep me safe inside. To lure me into the beyond. Are they there to go through. Or so I can...

“Who is Richard Sachs? The American bicycle frame builder has been custom building racing and cyclo-cross bikes in Connecticut and Massachusetts since 1975. His handmade production is world-renowned and limited to less than 100 bikes per year. He doesn’t draw out...

No one tried to say a thing When they took him out in jest Except, of course, the little neighbor boy Who carried him to rest And he just walked along, alone With his guilt so well concealed And muttered underneath his breath Nothing is revealed All This By Hand...

We have one room. It’s all we get. The shit we hang on the walls is us. Who we are. What makes us happy. What keeps the outside outside. Some things are nailed on for eternity. Others stay up for three minutes. It depends on the fantasy. Truth is make believe until it...

I circle around this clipping every few months it’s from Elle Magazine I don’t remember the article but it was buried in a recurring column is that redundant about relationships folks wrote about theirs or maybe the ones in their heads I dunno it was so long ago that...

Imagery owns me. Has since film succumbed to digital. No. Since even before that. I can shoot 24/7 and still have a life. So many beautiful things cross my path. I gobble them up. And show precious little of my take. Because it’s my fetish. There’s no theme. Nothing...

No amount of darkness can challenge the light of a new day. All This By Hand .

Slowing down is the new black. In my corner of the world, it’s become fashionable to look around. To pay attention. And appreciate. More so now than ever before. In all the other years I’ve looked ahead only. On the bicycle. Because racing. Going forward now means...

Last week I made five of these. Then it became four. This bad boy was so perfect until it wasn’t. While doing the last 180 file strokes to bring the wall from 1.2mm to .89mm I noticed a small inclusion. Of space. A void in the fork crown no longer than a millimeter....

I rode my bicycle today. Not a mail run. Or a trip to the market for half and half. A ride. Something I haven't done since middle October. Something I was more scared to do with each passing three day period. But I did it. Down the driveway. Then left. And by the time...

There's a lotta things about me you don't know anything about, Dottie. Things you wouldn't understand. Things you couldn't understand. Things you shouldn't understand. .

My Architect Il Maestro Signor Alberto Masi In all the years I've stood at the bench, no one has inspired me as much as this man. I have followed his path since before I departed for London close to fifty years ago. In December I had the pleasure of spending three...

Mechanical art for RS print ad circa (that’s Latin) 1997. It was a full page-er that ran in two publications, several times in each. The style was deliberate. That is, we knew the production value would be what it was based on the quality (sic) of the image. Comes...

TLD™. My wife. The Lovely Deb. Before she became a full time book reviewer for Kirkus she got a Masters Degree in Writing for Children from Simmons College. And before this, Deb was a Licensed Massage Therapist for a decade. And a Body Talk practitioner. And a Reiki...

Can something be so singularly beautiful as this. So perfect in its simplicity. And so unchanged since maybe forever because it can't be improved. Baker's Twine might be what it's called most. A small detail, this. This red and white string kept so many precious...

When I first a held bottom bracket shell in my hand, it was a seriously crude piece of work by today’s standards. Though the areas meant for business (the pockets for the tubes and stays, the threads and faces for the bearing units) were well-machined, the task of...

The most important part of what I do isn't what I give to a client after some 3-4 days at the workbench. It's not the design. Or the personal service. Or the paint. But without the paint I may second guess some of my opinions. I'm lucky. JB and I have been a couple...

My Peddie School motto is Finimus Pariter Renovamusque Labores. We finish our labors to begin them anew. That's gold, Jerry. Gold. But how many times do we end only to start over? Is it measured in units? Years? I wonder about these things. TLD™ (my wife, the lovely...

the light in my workroom Intoxicates Encourages Informs Teases Nurtures Lures Begs Gives Refuses Belittles Commands Colors Darkens Ignores Listens Teaches Confounds Argues Agrees Always Never All This By Hand .

That’s what it is. A mind game. I’m playing with myself. Until late very late tomorrow when I fly home. Do you read fine print? I don't. I didn’t. That favorable round trip rate came with holes I'm filling now. A nineteen hour layover in the Dublin airport. I knew it....

These past 5-6 days in Milano. With pal (and confidant) Brian (fucking) Vernor. The contrast between the days under the bright lights and the evenings alone. Just us. In an HO sized AirBNB. Holed up like two cats pledging for a fraternity. Think Animal House. Six...

This man. And his beautiful wife. And the people who work for them. With them. They opened their arms to me. And to my good friend Brian Vernor. And for the better part of a week we were all parts of a whole. To celebrate the 100 years of @columbus held at...

“It’s no less a joy to be part of the landscape than it was forty seven years ago. The personalities are different. The synergy between the sport and what we do in the studio has all but vaporized. And nobody makes forks anymore. But people continue to fill...

go elegant or go home . All This By Hand .

Some people have children to gloat over. I have little files. Mine come brand new and with no life experience. Same as most children. I take digital pictures of my files just as a parent would photograph his kids. My files live on the bench. In small groups. The...

For as long as I can remember, I've considered framebuilding a creative process. Indeed it's also one that can be tied to production methods, and quotas, and price points. It’s a lot easier to reconcile the business side of things now than when my life was one big...

“You, you, you are like New York, Jewish, leftwing, liberal, intellectual, Central Park West, Brandeis University, the socialist summer camps and the, the father with the Ben Shahn drawings, right, and the really, y'know, strike-oriented kind of, red diaper, stop me...

When I was young and coming of age, and with a yearning to plug this hole in my chest that only the outside world could fill, I looked for more than was served up my neighborhood of brick row houses, each pair arranged to be mirror images of the two on either side....

TW3. That was the week that was. Does anyone even remember that one. Doesn't matter. I do. Between hustling three units for @phillybikeexpo and shipping another one to Milano for the Cento 100 at @columbus_official's gala fete fest next month. And making the...

Hand-work takes patience. Is it measured in years. Or units. Does the repetition enable patience. Or is it the rush to accomplish. To get from the first notions about making anything at all. And carrying these to that point when you look at what's on the bench and...

I’m doing this. The next order on the books. Two days ago I decided to take it to @phillybikeexpo. As is. No matter what state it's in by Wednesday. This, in addition to all the other tasks needed before we're in the rental van. A naked frame. To display what few see...

Me, TLD™ (The Lovely Deb), and Buddy in Washington DC. DCCX is one of my favorites. The people south of the GWB promote events that remind me of the New England scene from a decade ago. Good venues. Large and enthusiastic crowds. Racers and families who seem to...

To surpass the Master is to repay the debt. All This By Hand .

That tradition formerly known as the Gran Prix of Gloucester took a bullet this year. TLD (the Lovely Deb) and I - and Buddy (the only Maltese dog with a UCI pit pass) were such fans that we always made reservations at The Vista Motel the second day of the weekend in...

I finish a commission. Relish the thought that another is ready for paint. Give the unit a last glance. And write down some specs so geeks in the future can wonder about serial numbers and bottom bracket drop. Then I clean the bench tops. I started what's considered...