it wasn’t the riser bar I really wanted. It was the riser bar I happened to have on hand. A handlebar swap setting off a sequence of events including cables and housing. The riser bar I might really want is sitting in a bucket in the back of the BikeWorks Warehouse. It could be at Recycled Cycles. It could be on Ebay. It could be in your garage. I don’t really know what it is. The rise. The sweep. It’s hard to define, but I’ll know it when I see it and ride it and feel it. The bar I had on there was great for all intents and purposes in appearance. It was cool but I was reaching out a country mile. This bike was weighed in the balance and found wanting, wanting you to slow down and enjoy the ride. This bike weighs a metric shit ton. This bike weighs as much as two of your bikes. This bike does well on flats and downhill. Don’t ask about the uphill ride back home. This bike makes you appreciate your other bike. This bike is a sunny afternoon stroll to the corner store for a six pack. This bike is a snowy morning roll around leaving goofy tracks aimlessly arcing in the snow with no place to go.
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