"hey, we got grenades!"
As Steve put it, Thanks Richard.
As I thumbed thru the photos as they slowly loaded on my iPhone, an eclectic song built to it's finale on the alternative rock station.
Oddly this musical narration brought an interesting clarity to the story.
Thanks Richard, I'm happy for you.
So, where now? tubing? lugs/castings? any thoughts of opening the queue? one foot in front of the other? how is the new pad? - Garro.
I think we all admire on some level your reletlessness to be true to your ways and support to your sponsors.
Has it ever caused you to miss out on something you wish you could have tried, experienced, whatever.
Also get Deb on here to share her thoughts on your experiences. I would imagine her passion for you and bothof your work would be meaningful to many here.
Yes. In 1982, the very first year I sponsored a team, Le Coq Sportif supplied outfits. The kit was red and white. I painted the bicycles to match. Period. Le Coq moved on in 1983, and we never looked back. The team bicycles and 99% of my client’s orders have been for the red and white scheme ever since. The red paint has evolved through the years. For a period the decal art ink changed from yellow to white and back to yellow several times. The white paint, which was once a reflective white hue was changed to off-white about 4-5 seasons ago.
I have no clue at all. Despite that I was destined to study writing in college, with hindsight I realize I would have stumbled through 4 years of classes and looked out the window far more than I would have taken pen to paper. I can’t see that I am equipped for anything except the very life I fell into by accident.
Folks will laugh, but the truth is I have very little ambition. I got into this framebuilding gig by complete serendipity. I was unprepared for the task. When Peter and I were asked to make Witcomb USA frames in Connecticut because the family in London was unable to supply our boss with product, I felt unprepared for the task. When I got fed up with my boss and set up my business in late 1975, I was unprepared for the task. Before too long, I was taking orders and making bicycles and never, ever felt as if I had the complete and proper training. So much of what I do is seat of the pants and intuitive. I’ve never seen anyone else make frames from end to end since I left England in 1973. And by the time I got up a head of steam as a commercial framebuilder, nothing – not a single task – resembled what I saw or did abroad. I am routinely confounded by the process. The lack of confidence or the deeply rooted feeling that, since I am self-taught, something is missing – this is an emotion that envelopes every working day I have and every frame I build. Because of this simple fact that I am never completely content with what passes as a finished bicycle, I continue to come in every Monday to see if I can redeem myself for all my past gaffes, miscues, and blunders. It sounds so drama queen-esque typing out these words, but this is how I feel. If it ever changes, maybe the word “retire” can be used in a sentence. For now, I have 7 years worth of work in which to see if I can possibly get it nailed.
you employ"traditional handbuilding methods"....how have your bikes evolved in relation to changes in components, threadless headsets, shallow bars, 8 degree stems, etc. etc,... i look at modern race bikes and see that for the most part people sit on a racing bike the same way- but the bikes are dramatically different....how do you keep metal bikes relevant and competitive at the highest level of sport in a plastic world?