Like a slave to both practicality and the Man, I continued riding my geared bikes, but started eyeing up every half-abandoned looking bike in town. Luck have it, I ended up finding a viable candidate right in my apt building's bike rack. A Motobecane Mirage. Half-striped. Totally unlocked. I "acquired" the frame after it lingered in a disassembled rusty mess for a year and a half in the apt building bike rack.
Even as a casual hipster, I felt the need to take hip, slightly-crooked pictures of my bike.
No "before" pictures exist, but as I recall it was blue. But not a cool blue. And that had to change. I made the decision to strip it down and repaint it faster than you can say "The foamy circles in my latte remind me of my first Appleseed Cast concert." First challenge: Stripping a frame in a small apt with limited ventilation. Second challenge: Painting the frame in a small apt with limited ventilation. All of these obstacles were remedied by the typical solution to the challenges of city life - I took it to the suburbs.
Yep, off to my parents house in Harrisburg area. Every trip home for Thanksgiving, Christmas, birthday, etc. became a chance to strip, prime, or paint. Hours of environmentally friendly paint stripper, intricate sanding, 3 layers of primer, taping off sections, more rattlecanning and - in the spirit of its Frenchness - VOILA! it was done.
Chopped and flopped some old bars. Asked for the paint for Christmas. Rest of the parts I had around. The odd French sizes (BB, seat post - 25.4) were inconvenient, but not too much of a hassle. Project was at a hefty $0 until I had to buy a rear wheel. Putting me at a grand total of about $120.
The blue paint job was not part of a master plan, just looked good at Home Depot. Once I had the paint job down, I was left some large white panels. Fortunately, I just watched Zoolander. Quicker than I can take my underwear off without removing my pants, I bought some labels and Blue Steel was born.
Decided brakes are for people that had braces in high school and have straight noses. So instead me and my crooked nose and imperfect teeth just ride really slowly and avoid hills.
I enjoy it, but ride it more as a novelty, like a statue of Jason Schwartzman as Rushmore. Mostly just fiddle around in my driveway. Got decent at track stands and backwards circles.
Still haven't donned flannel (here in PA, people just assume you're a farmhand) and tight pants (assumed you're a gay farmhand). Nevertheless, Blue Steel is a constant reminder of my time as a semi-devoted hipster enthusiast. On that note, Mer-man and goodnight.
