A Royal Scot Joins the Family

The bicycle situation at home is starting to get a little crazy. Right now at the house, there are more bikes then there are people. The 6 bikes by last count where 1 fixie, 1 road bike, 2 mountain bikes, and 2 roadsters.  There are plans for building an outside bike shed on wheels to protect our babies from the rain but negotiations are still ensuing.

Of the 6 bikes at the house I have purchased or own 4 of them (my road bike, my mountain bike, my roadster, and the the Diva's purple mountain bike). The Diva continuously complained about pain in her wrists from her mountain bike. At first I thought she was being a diva but after I was forced to borrow her bike for commuting to work for a few days I realized she was right. Her purple Walmart Schwinn with the flowers on the seat might be fun for off-roading but because of the aggressive forward position, it was no fun for long distance cruising.

Because I love my Diva and because I must convince her to abandon her car in all but the most necessary situations, I combed the Craigslist ads for the perfect bike. After much searching I found a diamond in the rough - a 1967 Royal Scot.. We drove (yes drove) to meet the previous owner and to see if the bike was the right fit and if she liked it. Here are some pictures which were kindly furnished by the previous owner in his Craigslist ad -

Well, she didn't like it. In fact she hated the bike before she even got on it. I begged her to give it a chance and she did taking it for a bike ride around the neighborhood. I nervously waited for her return and proudly smiled when my Diva came around the corner. To my great sadness though she came saying NOT to buy the bike. She was convinced this was not the bike for her. The handle bars were too low, the fenders looked like they were about to fall off from rust, the brakes did not work, the front rims seemed bent, the crankshaft pedals were bent, the gears did not shift, someone dripped paint all over the finish, it creaked and heaved when it moved (like Billy's grandfather begging to be killed), the fenders rubbed against the cracked tires, and worst of all the bike felt "unsafe". At least that was the official word from the Diva - even the guy trying to sell me the bike told me not to buy it.

Of course I listened to no one and I bought the bike. I rode it home part of the way and I walked it home most of the way. I knew deep down inside there was an inner beauty only me and Boutros Boutros-Ghali could see. Perhaps my good friends at Belitte Bikes would confirm my suspicions. Perhaps they would tell me I was a fool and this bike was worthless. All I know is there are now 7 bikes at the house, we still don't have bike parking, and the Diva hates her new toy. All I need now is to go bike riding with the Diva and we get a flat in the middle of nowhere. That would surely destroy my dreams of happy and relaxed biking for hours and hours with the Diva cross country.

Of course this battle is not over. I will bring this little Scot back to life and I will make the Diva love it - I hope. Stay tuned for more details on operation Restore Royal...