[CR]Going To Any Lengths

(Example: Production Builders:Tonard)

From: "Art Smith" <ahsmith49@cox.net>
To: <classicrendezvous@bikelist.org>
Date: Tue, 30 Jan 2007 21:46:16 -0700
Thread-Index: AcdDCiAPLIzfejWlScCwxz1dr9SoUABxp83g
In-Reply-To: <MONKEYFOODL8cIqsfbm00003915@monkeyfood.nt.phred.org>
Subject: [CR]Going To Any Lengths

The Record/Jubilee discussion involving the red and black color schemed Motobecane reminded me of what lengths, esp. pre-ebay, that I would go to get a classic bike. As I walked up to the bank, a bike hidden near the front door between the wall and a row of bushes caught my eye. Beneath the front basket full of plastic bags, bungie cords, and the rear double baskets full of clothes and paper bags, beyond the ape hangers and the duct taped fleece covered seat, I immediately recognized the red and black paint job of a Motobecane. Having started out on a gold Astra, I had wanted one of these serious bikes for years.

In the bank I scanned the customers until I settled on a burned-out looking old guy with his right pant leg rolled up. I struck up a conversation with him, asked him if that was his bike and asked him if he was interested in selling it. The teller called him up and I thought the bike was lost, but on the way back, he told me to come by "the compound", he gave me the address, and told me to ask for Sarge. I got a pile of bikes, he said.

That afternoon, my cash divided between my pockets and my wallet, I banged on the door at the address I'd been given. Another burned out looking guy eyed me suspiciously until I asked for Sarge. I was sent around back into a courtyard full of more vacant eyed men. The yard was full of bikes, some broken down, some being repaired. I was starting to feel a bit paranoid to say the least. Sarge rounded the corner wheeling the Motobecane. He told me he'd trade it for some valium. I used my best once a hippie, always a hippie schtick, told him I was straight now, and that I was sorry, I couldn't help him out. Then I gotta have $50, he said. I pulled out the cash but then he stopped me. I gotta keep the baskets and the seat. Ok, I said. While he pulled the baskets off, he had one of the other men lead me back behind a row of trees and another fence. Here's where I get it, I thought. Robbed and probably killed for a red and black moto.

I was led through the gate and then I saw the largest pile of junked out, slammed together, bicycles I had ever seen. Men's bikes, women's bikes, kids' bikes all piled into a mound that had to be at least ten feet high! The fellow that walked me back disappeared. I circled the pile. I knew there had to be something good in there, but I knew the cops would be sweeping down on the place any moment and how was I going to explain that I was just buying a bike, with $300 on me, 50 of them in my sock. I tried to move one bike on the side of the pile, but the pedals were caught in the spokes of another bike. I was working on it when Sarge called me, gave me the Motobecane and I hightailed it out of there.

Several months later, I got my courage up and went back to the compound. The buildings, the trees, the fence, and the huge pile of bikes were gone. I built the Motobecane up, rode it for a while then traded it away.

Art Smith
Phoenix