Wow this dude is fuuuucked up!
"What exactly was he planning to do with 2,865 bicycles?"
I'd be all sorts of tempted to rifle through all the shit he'd hoarded but probably wouldn't for fear of any bad bicycle karma rubbing off on me...
UPDATE FROM A LOCAL:
Dude, this guy was a sight to behold! I live about 100 ft from his store. He'd be out on the sidewalk every single day and night doing repairs rain or shine; he worked like a DOG. You've got to hand it to him, he's fucking passionate about bicycles.
One day I decided to go in. I HAD to see. The place was amazing... all dark and dank like a cave – but a cave packed to the rafters with bikes. All the bikes I saw were shitty junkers so I told him I wanted something "nice". He looked me right in the eye for a second as if to say, "if you're a fucking cop, I'll kill you." He's a big, scary guy with a scary Slovenian accent. Satisfied that I didn't look like a cop (I'm a skinny cyclist) he led me downstairs.
Maaaaan... there was some good stuff in there, but I vowed I wouldn't buy anything because, well, you know, it's all hot. But I saw a sweeeeeeet Colnago hanging high on a wall. My size too. It was a thing of beauty. I couldn't help myself, I was shaking. I asked him how much. $600.
Shiiiiit... I... I... had to have it...
"But I can't sell it to you." I asked him why. He was killing me. "It's too nice."
Whaa? I think what he was saying is that it was too distinctive-looking and probably too freshly stolen. I pleaded, but no. I couldn't have it.
I few years on I still dream about that bike, but I'm actually glad I didn't buy it, though. Toronto has enough of a bike theft problem with out me perpetuating it.
Thanks Wilson!
UPDATE FROM A LOCAL:
Dude, this guy was a sight to behold! I live about 100 ft from his store. He'd be out on the sidewalk every single day and night doing repairs rain or shine; he worked like a DOG. You've got to hand it to him, he's fucking passionate about bicycles.
One day I decided to go in. I HAD to see. The place was amazing... all dark and dank like a cave – but a cave packed to the rafters with bikes. All the bikes I saw were shitty junkers so I told him I wanted something "nice". He looked me right in the eye for a second as if to say, "if you're a fucking cop, I'll kill you." He's a big, scary guy with a scary Slovenian accent. Satisfied that I didn't look like a cop (I'm a skinny cyclist) he led me downstairs.
Maaaaan... there was some good stuff in there, but I vowed I wouldn't buy anything because, well, you know, it's all hot. But I saw a sweeeeeeet Colnago hanging high on a wall. My size too. It was a thing of beauty. I couldn't help myself, I was shaking. I asked him how much. $600.
Shiiiiit... I... I... had to have it...
"But I can't sell it to you." I asked him why. He was killing me. "It's too nice."
Whaa? I think what he was saying is that it was too distinctive-looking and probably too freshly stolen. I pleaded, but no. I couldn't have it.
I few years on I still dream about that bike, but I'm actually glad I didn't buy it, though. Toronto has enough of a bike theft problem with out me perpetuating it.
Thanks Wilson!
3 comments:
Cant help it ...man,you mispelled "thief".
oops! Thanks man!! FIXED
Dude, this guy was a sight to behold! I live about 100 ft from his store. He'd be out on the sidewalk every single day and night doing repairs rain or shine; he worked like a DOG. You've got to hand it to him, he's fucking passionate about bicycles.
One day I decided to go in. I HAD to see. The place was amazing... all dark and dank like a cave – but a cave packed to the rafters with bikes. All the bikes I saw were shitty junkers so I told him I wanted something "nice". He looked me right in the eye for a second as if to say, "if you're a fucking cop, I'll kill you." He's a big, scary guy with a scary Slovenian accent. Satisfied that I didn't look like a cop (I'm a skinny cyclist) he led me downstairs.
Maaaaan... there was some good stuff in there, but I vowed I wouldn't buy anything because, well, you know, it's all hot. But I saw a sweeeeeeet Colnago hanging high on a wall. My size too. It was a thing of beauty. I couldn't help myself, I was shaking. I asked him how much. $600.
Shiiiiit... I... I... had to have it...
"But I can't sell it to you." I asked him why. He was killing me. "It's too nice."
Whaa? I think what he was saying is that it was too distinctive-looking and probably too freshly stolen. I pleaded, but no. I couldn't have it.
I few years on I still dream about that bike, but I'm actually glad I didn't buy it, though. Toronto has enough of a bike theft problem with out me perpetuating it.
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