One of my friends recently built me the bike you see above.
He undercharged me by about 900% so I won’t tell you how much I paid him for it, but I will tell you how he made it.
He said he got the frame from a guy on Craigslist
The basket he snagged on Amazon.
The wheels and tires he already had. (I guess he has rubber trees in his backyard?)
The brakes he stole off his irritating 5-year old neighbor’s tricycle.
The handlebars he picked up at a local shop.
I asked him a few weeks ago when in the process of building if he enjoyed gathering parts and crafting them together for me and he said, “I love it, I wish it paid.”
When I went to his house to pick it up there were bike frames in his garage, tools scattered everywhere, and whatever you call the things the chain goes around hanging on pegboards on the wall.
See you can say you love something, but what you might really mean is that you actually love what doing that thing gets you. You love the result.
You love running because it gives you a good body.
You love reading because it makes you smart.
You love writing because you want blog readers.
I would argue that if you don’t love the raw act of doing those seemingly boring activities, then your progress isn’t sustainable. You can’t just fall in love with the end result because your work will be shoddy or, even worse, you’ll give up before you get there.
You have to love the rhythm running brings. You have to love getting lost in books. You have to love molding blog posts and essays. You have to not care about the end game.
I learned this from my bike maker. He loves making bikes even more than he loves having made them.
And to you, my wife, I love riding our figurative little marriage bike every once in a while (after all, it IS our logo). But I’ve loved the art of building it more. And I love tweaking it more. And, usually, I love repairing it just as much, if not more.
So thanks for being patient, for the process might not be pretty, but it is more than worthy. And I’m in love with it.
And, no, he didn’t really steal the brakes. That I’m aware of. I don’t even know if 5-year olds ride tricycles…