I love bikes. That's pretty obvious, I think. But I'm starting to believe that it's not the kind of love poets write sonnets about, that my obsession with bikes is more akin to incoherent fan mail scrawled out on parchment paper and sent in envelopes containing locks of human hair. And you're like me if you recognize the following formula: that if n equals the number of bikes you own, then n + 1 is the ideal number of bikes one could own. It's perfectly evil in its utter simplicity.
About a month ago, I was generously given a bare frame from a friend of mine who was moving out of town. I immediately obsessed over every part of the build, poring over distributor catalogs, sorting through any useful bits in my spare parts bin, scouring ebay for cheap parts, etc. After hours and hours of comparing prices and hand-drawn spreadsheets, I finally worked out a viable build list, complete to the smallest detail, when I realized I had forgotten one thing - I had no damn money to spare.
Right.
So I gave it away to someone who just the other day was talking about trying to find a frame like it. Funny thing is, I know that he now has to deal with that sword hanging above his head, that even if I gave him my entirely-worked out parts list along with the frame it wouldn't do him any good, because then the built-up bike just wouldn't be his, that he would have to compile his own list and suffer through himself. That's just how this cruel cycle works.
As for me, I'm already onto my next project. See, if I sell my hardtail which I built last year and buy this other frame, then I can use this wheel I have lying around...
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