The Hajj

I made the pilgrimage to The City today. My destination was, of course, Harris Cyclery, the forever spiritual home of the Great Sheldon Brown, may Alla bless his name. Even though this shop is "conveniently located" right off the Mass Pike, I had to drop off some one in Camberville and so decided to take the overland route which just happened to pass right through the Broadway Bicycle School.

First, I want to note a few things that I saw about The City. There were a ton of bikes everywhere. There were tons of bike lanes everywhere. There were also TONS of cars and stoplights everywhere! That, and the fact that there were no real "hills" to speak of made me think that it would be nuts to get around and way BUT bike if I lived in The City. Of course I don't. And that sucks. I think that I would like living in the the City much, much more that I like visiting it, or, more to the point, driving into it! Blech!

Secondly, BBS is fricken tiny! I thought that it would be so much.....more. Initially, I strode boldly into the "shop" only to realize instantly that in this case "Shop" really meant shop and not "store"! The floors were wooden and well worn. The walls were lined with tools and the place was full of cold but happy cyclists and workers, who were much less cold but still appeared to be quite happy. It was cozy. There were very, very few things for sale there, other than a big rack of bikes that I assumed to be refurbished whips. I spoke briefly with a nice man with a beard, smiled inside myself, took a schedule of up-coming repair classes that I will doubtfully attend and left. The overall feeling of the place, to me, was a combination of my grandfather's garage and a ski lodge.

Then, it was off to the "big event": Harris! I drove over filled with a sense of anticipation that seemed appropriate for this season. Had I been on a bicycle I might have made it on time. Sadly, the shop was closed. Even though all I could do was press my nose against the glass and drool a little, I can see why this place is Mecca for cyclist with an "old school" bent to them. Lugged this, Italian that and all kinds of folding something elses. What a place! My father, who rode a Bianchi and always lusted after a folding bike (a more ridiculous and dorky thing I could never imagine in my teen-aged mind) would have locked himself inside before he would have allowed himself to be locked outside of that place! I can't wait to get back there! Simply amazing place AND they have stuff for sale!