Thoughts and tales from the saddle - on my own in Europe.

Monday, May 16, 2005

Kid at Christmas

Saturday was one of those days that happens without you really noticing, if you know what I mean. You probably don't, but it was the finale of months of planning, advice, decisions, saving and waiting, and it passed as if it was a dream.

It wasn't, of course, and I was like a small child at Christmas. I probably would have been unable to sleep on Friday night if it wasn't for 4 hours of driving and 4 cans of lager, but then Saturday came and went and it was done - I had my bike.

Collecting it from the shop was a simple affair - a quick spin round the block to check all was well, choose a helmet, get a few spare spokes and I was done. Paul Hewitt (of Hewitt Cycles) was his usual calm self, probably slightly bemused by an excitable 27 year old from Southampton whose eyes were like saucers at the sight of the shiney new bike.

And I'm pretty sure he was unaware of just how important that day, and that bike, were to me. But that's part of the charm of it, I think. He didn't know what I was planning to do with the bike, and it wouldn't have made any difference. He would have made the bike in exactly the same way if it were for someone planning to ride it a few miles once a week or for someone who was going around the World on it. And there is only one word to describe how the bike has been made and put together - perfect.


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