PUREFIX CYCLES

If you've been following me on Instagram you might have noticed a few postings of my #purefix bike and my rides around Los Angeles the past few weeks. It's been a liberating and freeing experience.  Just me, the bike, and the road, a cool nights breeze upon my face, "clear eyes" and a "full heart."

So what happened and why the bike all of a sudden.  I've been curious for quite some time about a fixed gear bike.   Clean lines, light, simple, and it just looks friggin cool.  For those that have been to my office, I have a collection of messenger bags, pretty much all #manhattanportage with the quick release and I recently bought The Empire backpack, which hauls my gear (work gear that is) back and forth from home to the office.  I'm no bike messenger, but I've been transfixed by the culture.  I grew up on Quicksilver, and though a cheese movie, I always thought it captured the bike messenger world in a way that felt real and grounded.  I can't speak for Premium Rush because I haven't seen it...all in due time.

On the other hand, two words.  Gino Bartali, maybe one of the greatest cyclists ever.  He was Italian and the only rider ever to win the The Tour de France ten years apart - '38 and '48 - 24 and 34 years old respectively.  That's unheard off.  And remember, the event wasn't held between '39-'46 because of the war.  Cycling on the world stage almost disappeared during those years.  But what makes Bartali even more interesting and remarkable is that he helped save Jews during WWII who were being persecuted by the Nazis.  He used his fame by carrying forged documents and photographs, working in conjunction with DELASEM, aiding Jews to escape, some of them to the Swiss Alps in 1943.  Not only was he maybe the greatest rider of the modern era, but he used his bike for good. It was a beacon of hope in a time of dispare.  It's inspiring in every way of the word. 

I haven't cracked it yet.  It's in the making, but I leave you with this...

Inside, the garage stands there like a statue, dark until the lift door rises up and street lights floods the concrete room.  Light slowly inching back over The Echo, beautiful, clean, a vessel that will take me into the night.  Black matte helmet lifted off the riser bars, snapping into place under my chin.  Clear eyes.  Heart full.  Strapping one foot in.  Readying for the push off, and now the other foot snug in the binding.  And we are off, heart racing, the rush settling in...let's do some good tonight, shall we...