En Mera Öl

Friday, April 9, 2010

I might -and you must give me a right to do so- hold an experience of first frame building almost holy. It just might be the hardest thing I ever had done with my hands. I don't know if I have ever been so afraid of anything. When I got the set of tubing and lugs my friend -and in some other things my mentor-, had brought to Finland to get his frame to be build by me I, quite literatelly, only stared at it too afraid to do anything to start working with it for first two months.

"Dude! Its a pile of steel! Finish it!" You might think. But hey, we all have our weaknesses. Mine seems to be piles of steel. Or getting started. Well, my time in Finland at this point started to end and I had no choice but to get my hands dirty.

My emotions through the process varied from total disappointment and failure to hippie-like feeling of being one with the steel. I was scared, and until Pauli succesfully rides with this frame for some time, I keep on being scared. In many ways the frame is far from perfection that it's fine italian tubing and casted lugs and owner would deserve, but it is going to be rided. Ye, go ahead and laugh, but untill you become Tim Paterek or Samuel del Valle I am gonna be ten inches higher from ground than you.

Game is on

Pancho comes too see me at Plaza de Italia. It is only once that I have seen him and Wladimir before. Still, he is here to bring me a bike to borrow and guide me through Santiago. From mayhem of Plaza de Italia, with 54cm single speed Bianchi I take my first ride in Santiago. Ten blocks I drive behind Pancho before we reach the Plaza Bogota, home of Santiago bike polo.

At the south side of Santiago is a Plaza seeming allmost made for polo. Smooth paveing surrounded with steps to chill is lightened at night. Game is good. Warm hearted people, ball, bikes and beer is something that makes my arrival to the city of beatifull hod dogs more than perfect.

Riding back home through city unknown, when pavement varys from silk to sooth sickness is a state of consiciousness and bulleting through a narrow passageway flanged by red rear lights seals my day of perfection.