I thought about it while taking a bubble bath. A bubble bath is the default when I skip a ride. At least one per week. Maybe three per in winter and early spring. I thought about the material. And the process. And how no two are alike. Even if (IF) all I ever made was the same 58cm frame over and over (and over) again. Steel is never the same twice. Nor is the flame. Or the interference fits. Or the file strokes. Hand eye intuition is a moving target. I control it. But it still moves. All over the place. So why? Because it’s a gig. My metier. That’s a fancy French word I use to bolster my self-esteem. I love the variation. I thrive on the inconsistencies. The lack of control. When things do go sideways it’s a gift from the universe telling me that tomorrow I can have another at bat. And when all the swings are taken maybe then I can move on. Maybe then I can think about something else. Until that moment comes, taming the beast is what I do. What I do each day. When I finally do connect with the ball then maybe just maybe I can cash out. Until then. I’m what’s being controlled here. Taming. The. Beast. Tomorrow I ride.
All This By Hand
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