She's Here, Along With Diss

Miss Mercian II arrived today.  I haven't had a chance to unpack her, as I've just gotten home from work.  And I'm not about to start assembling a bike while I'm in the skirt and blouse I'm wearing!


But, as you can imagine, I'm looking forward to it.  I opened the flap of the box and pulled away enough of the bubble wrap to see how elegant the frame is with its dark green paint and gold pinstriping and lettering.  I really think the brown grips, leather saddle and mudflap will complement it nicely.


Poor Marianela is giving up those parts.  Is a lady who sacrifices for another lady even more noble than the man who does the same?


What kind of a rhetorical question did I just ask?  Hey, this is a bike blog!  I never promised not to be self-indulgent.


The amazing thing is that Pete just dispatched the bike yesterday--in England.  In Suffolk, as a matter of fact.  Things take longer to get from Suffolk County, Long Island to my place than it took for the bike to come to me.  There is an ocean between me and Pete; there is only Nassau County between the New York City borough of Queens, where I live, and Suffolk County.  Then again, a plane or ship making the trip from Albion to America is less likely to get stuck in traffic than a truck on the Long Island Expressway (a.k.a. The World's Longest Parking Lot). 

In our exchanges of e-mails, Pete told me about the Diss Cycling Club, which is based in his area.  Its president owns the local shop, which has the earliest recorded Mercian sale.  In the shop, he also has a photo of himself sharing the podium with Beryl Burton, whom I mentioned in a previous post. 


I intend to read more about the club, and about British cycling clubs generally, as they seem to have an interesting history and culture.  


And now I'm up to my fourth Mercian.  That, in itself, is going to be interesting when I write my post(s) about all the bicycles I have owned--or all the ones I can remember, anyway!

Another Mercian On The Way

What do a Miss Mercian bike and Anthony Hopkins have in common?  

They're British.  And, soon, they'll both be residing in America.

Pete, from whom I bought the bike, sent me a tracking number.  He's checked out this blog and asked me, "Have you picked a name for her yet?"  I told him I'll name her once I customise her. 

 

I envision her as a sophisticated roadster/elegant commuter.  So, today I also ordered a pair of Tourist handlebars, which are patterned after North Road bars, from Velo Orange.  However, instead of ordering cork grips, as I originally planned, I decided to order a pair of Kraton rubber grips with a "basket weave" pattern.  I figure they'll go nicely with the Gyes Parkside saddle I'm going to take off Marianela.  And, I plan to install a pair of handlebar-mount shifters.    Finally, I might take Marianela's fenders, too:  They're the VO "Zeppelin" fenders, with a brown leather mudflap, which I think will look really nice on the Mercian.

Of course, Marianela will get the saddle and fenders that come with the Mercian.

This is going to be interesting, to say the least.  And lots of fun.

Childhood Summer Riding

Today was a good bit hotter than yesterday.  Yesterday's sky, as blue as the sea and clearer--as it always seems to be in those ideal memories of Childhood--turned hazier, as it often does when one tries to recall that blue expanse of yesteryear.  


The only riding I did today took me to and from work.  I was about a mile from work when Marianela's rear tube developed a slow leak.  I was just barely able to get to work, and before I rode home I had to fix it.  That, in the college where almost nobody else rides bikes.


But none of that took my mind off the riding I did over the weekend.  For some reason, I found myself thinking about a group of boys who rode in circles and did wheelies in the park at Point Lookout.  As it turns out, I had a photo of them:

Now tell me:  Does that look like someone's childhood memory of summer, or what?