This exercise came from Chuck Wendig. I like Chuck because, like me, he’s a foul-mouthed motherfucker whose jokes are so inappropriate they could make the Buddha cry. Plus he’s really smart about writing and shit. So when he drops a writing exercise, I have to take a stab at its face. *stabbity*
Here’s me describing one thing ten different ways.
But for the stray logo, it is a study in monochrome, gloss black paint chipped down to grey primer in spots, and white slightly faded with age.
Caked with the dust and the dried on mud of hundreds of adventuring miles, it’s like a well-loved book — battered and dingy from constant use.
The hard lines of its geometry are only broken up where it’s lines join each other, and then they blend smoothly, organically, into one another.
To assemble the parts without the benefit of modern delivery systems would take you on a trek around the globe — America, Switzerland, Japan, Italy. (Don’t forget extra socks.)
It grew from a drawing, weekends spent honing single parts down to a usable finish, before being welded together and readied for paint.
It contains, like all metalworking projects, some of the creator’s blood.
A 17th century blacksmith would have no idea what to make of it — thin-walled steel, stainless steel, various aluminum alloys. Might as well let a caveman try to repair a space shuttle.
A builder’s first frame is special, one of his horcruxes, if you’re into that Harry Pottery shit. This is no different — the hundreds of hours, the mis-steps, the imperfections are all reflective of a little bit of soul falling out of the body and into the steel.
It’s a throwback to a simpler time — no suspension, not hung with thousands of dollars of parts. Just a single gear, a rigid fork, and some nice wheels. As a tribute to modern rides, it has disc brakes, but otherwise this could be a bike from 1983.
Under the rider, it becomes a prosthesis, allowing you to fly where once you could only walk.
I’m not thrilled with the results on this one. Sure, some of the stuff in there was okay, I guess. I need to do more of this sort of stuff in the future. I’m rusty.