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Follow the Lead..... 'errr....

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bricycle

I'm the Wiz, and nobody beats me!
Author's disclosure:
This is a mix of factual and fictional happenings as it was actually a story recanting an Outboard hunt of mine.
Enjoy... bri.


One Saturday, I received a call early in the morning. It was from a gentleman calling in regards to some bicycles he had. The man (Bob) went on to say that he had gotten my name from a fellow that he had spoken to about FIVE years ago! He then began to apologize that he hadn't called until just now. Bob said he was in the process of moving and he had several bicycles cluttering up his garage, and that he wanted them gone. (There are certain days when I could certainly sympathize with him). We decided on a time to meet later in the morning. One should never allow an opportunity slip away on a lead. You never know what may "lurk" in another person's garage! He had explained the cycles as, two turn of century bikes, a red tanked bike, an old folding cycle and a post war Schwinn.
It was a gorgeous Saturday morning, and as I made my way north to his house, I wondered what relics were awaiting me hidden away in the dark, dirty garage. I decided I should ponder conservatively, as I didn't wish to be disappointed. The drive was pleasant, and was a tad over an hour. Upon my arrival, I found myself on a long gravel drive leading to an older home, probably built in the '30's. It was about 60 degrees out, and very peaceful there, narry a soul seen driving up. In the distance a woodpile smoldered, and a gentle breeze would now and then waft a bit of the smokey aroma my way. At the end of the driveway nearest the garage (behind the house) sat a late model SUV. Ah ha!, he must be home I thought, as I had hope I had gotten the address correct! Attached between the garage and the rear side door entryway, was a cable, and attached was a line of rope which led downward and made a curve into the entryway. I followed the line to the entryway and peered in... "Yikes!" I emitted, a dog was at the "end" of the rope the led into the doorway! He hadn't heard me pull into the driveway?... is he asleep? I remember the old adage- "let sleeping dogs lie", and I would... except he awoke, and as it turned out, was very friendly. "Phew!" His tag said "Duke". OK, Duke were is your owner? I waited 45 minutes and finally his master returned home.
Bob is a truck mechanic by trade, and offered a friendly grease-stained hand to greet me. What do I care, I'm about to handle a bunch of greasy old cycles anyway.
We made our way into the musty garage. Hmm, a post war Schwinn circa 1948 Hornet complete, not too rusty at that, next an early 30's Stutz, with great paint and decals! The folder turned out to be a 60's Sears unit. Then I spied a mid-teen motobyke likely a Dayton. Then the two TOC'ers... a 1895 ish Wards and a '96-7 Keating. "This one" (the Dayton) said Bob, " I made the handlebars myself!" "Neat huh?" (Yea, great... sob...) "This was my first bike when I was a young'n!" Bob praised. "Gave some fella $15 bucks for it and a candy bar. Used it for years!" I smiled, wishing it still retained the deep pullback factory bars and bulldog grips. The Keating was pretty rusty and the block chain was a solid bar of steel, ah, er, rust! Bob gazed at me, totally still. I pondered a while longer and thought... I had just sold 14 bikes to begin to clear my garage and work area, what do I need with 6 more?? What's a bike collector to do? I decided to adopt them all! A price was agreed upon and the 6 gems were carefully stuffed into my new Ford Escort wagon. As a bonus, Bob, bless his heart, threw in an extra teen moto tank!
Bob and I departed as new friends, and I wandered home with my "stash", occasionally catching a whiff of that wonderful fragrance of old BB grease and carefully placed mouse droppings.
Happy collecting!
 
Last edited:

Drosentreter

Wore out three sets of tires already!
Author's disclosure:
This is a mix of factual and fictional happenings as it was actually a story recanting an Outboard hunt of mine.
Enjoy... bri.


One Saturday, I received a call early in the morning. It was from a gentleman calling in regards to some bicycles he had. The man (Bob) went on to say that he had gotten my name from a fellow that he had spoken to about FIVE years ago! He then began to apologize that he hadn't called until just now. Bob said he was in the process of moving and he had several bicycles cluttering up his garage, and that he wanted them gone. (There are certain days when I could certainly sympathize with him). We decided on a time to meet later in the morning. One should never allow an opportunity slip away on a lead. You never know what may "lurk" in another person's garage! He had explained the cycles as, two turn of century bikes, a red tanked bike, an old folding cycle and a post war Schwinn.
It was a gorgeous Saturday morning, and as I made my way north to his house, I wondered what relics were awaiting me hidden away in the dark, dirty garage. I decided I should ponder conservatively, as I didn't wish to be disappointed. The drive was pleasant, and was a tad over an hour. Upon my arrival, I found myself on a long gravel drive leading to an older home, probably built in the '30's. It was about 60 degrees out, and very peaceful there, narry a soul seen driving up. In the distance a woodpile smoldered, and a gentle breeze would now and then waft a bit of the smokey aroma my way. At the end of the driveway nearest the garage (behind the house) sat a late model SUV. Ah ha!, he must be home I thought, as I had hope I had gotten the address correct! Attached between the garage and the rear side door entryway, was a cable, and attached was a line of rope which led downward and made a curve into the entryway. I followed the line to the entryway and peered in... "Yikes!" I emitted, a dog was at the "end" of the rope the led into the doorway! He hadn't heard me pull into the driveway?... is he asleep? I remember the old adage- "let sleeping dogs lie", and I would... except he awoke, and as it turned out, was very friendly. "Phew!" His tag said "Duke". OK, Duke were is your owner? I waited 45 minutes and finally his master returned home.
Bob is a truck mechanic by trade, and offered a friendly grease-stained hand to greet me. What do I care, I'm about to handle a bunch of greasy old cycles anyway.
We made our way into the musty garage. Hmm, a post war Schwinn circa 1948 Hornet complete, not too rusty at that, next an early 30's Stutz, with great paint and decals! The folder turned out to be a 60's Sears unit. Then I spied a mid-teen motobyke likely a Dayton. Then the two TOC'ers... a 1895 ish Wards and a '96-7 Keating. "This one" (the Dayton) said Bob, " I made the handlebars myself!" "Neat huh?" (Yea, great... sob...) "This was my first bike when I was a young'n!" Bob praised. "Gave some fella $15 bucks for it and a candybar. Used it for years!" I smiled, wishing it still retained the deep pullback factory bars and bulldog grips. The Keating was pretty rusty and the block chain was a solid bar of steel, ah, er, rust! Bob gazed at me, totally still. I pondered a while longer and thought... I had just sold 14 bikes to begin to clear my garage and work area, what do I need with 6 more?? What's a bike collector to do? I decided to adopt them all! A price was agreed upon and the 6 gems were carefully stuffed into my new Ford Escort wagon. As a bonus, Bob, bless his heart, threw in an extra teen moto tank!
Bob and I departed as new friends, and I wandered home with my "stash", occasionally catching a whiff of that wonderful fragrance of old BB grease and carefully placed mouse droppings.
Happy collecting!
PICTURES!!!!!! The people want to see!!!
 
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