02/13/2016
Tired !
This just in.
The Bike Guy Restored Used Bicycle Shop In Santa Barbara, Ca Was rumored to be moving into its official location. This ambitious company of one, that is if you dont include Abbecrombe the mannequin who is reported to be the original Bike Guy but has not been available for comment.
The Bike Guy Bicycle Shop, Born in the crucible of adversity came into existence as a result of an unconscionable act of thievery, namely the complete theft of Perfection Detail. No doubt Grand theft auto is a crime that for the mobile service provider can be catastrophic. To lose a vehicle to theft is tragic, but in the case of the mobile service provider it is not just a case of a stolen vehicle, but the literally the hijacking of a commercial business, which included not only the company vehicle but every piece of equipment, computers, commercial detailing products, virtually the entire business rolled off in to a sullen sunset never to be the same again.
After a week of shock, grief, and mourning if you will, the dispirited retired musician, proprietor and 30 year master detailer of Perfection Detail, Mr. Thomas ,emerged. Through the fog and mist of pain and loss he made his way back to the playing field of commerce, he was seen downcast in demeanor as one might expect. . .hew was carrying a bike.
He looked thin, Thinner than his usual slim frame, the word gaunt was whispered by those who knew him.As he walked to the entrepreneurial game field, in one hand he pushed a bike, was it his transportation , now that his van that state of the art detailers dream machine was an object of a time past? who could say, it was a bike and not a particularly remarkable one at that. In his other hand he grasped firmly to what looked to be . . . a hand. yes a hand. It was .Pale, white, and balled into a fist. He he, he was actually carrying a hand.. Just before entering the arena, he whispered to his friend to go get the one hundred and Ambecrombie. At this point no one knew what he was talking about . Perhaps the aging entrapanuer had become delusional. Perhaps he had finally hit the wall . that wall that causes billionairs to abandon their welth and live the life of a vagrant until the grave. The death of another vagrantnothing special, and the world continued its search for the flamboyant billionaire they remember.
Perhaps the master detailer had suffered something akin to a psychotic break, too much loss, to much strife, 30 often tumultuous years for a net of zero, save the bike he pushed and the hand he carried which we now kno
another.Would you keep it down Dr. Nincompoops and Mr. snide. I think he is going to say something look there, he set that thing down right on the table. who the hell brings a hand to the table? The arena quieted he looked up slowly not to the crowd but first to his mother, his strongest supporter, then next to his sister his eyes rheumy for a slight. next their was a small nod to one of his brothers and to the surprise of many a smile to a couple in the back row The man had curly salt and pepper hair, well tanned , the women a fetching sandy blond. they smile back. the man gave a wink, Phillip's smile vanished.
"I'm gonna sell bikes now" that's all he said he picked up the hand , turned and grabbed hold of the old bike he was pushing, on closer inspection the bike was a rolling disaster, the chain was frozen in time like a snake charmer had frozen his snake eternally coiled so was this rusted chain coiled and frozen solid, surely it would never see the gears again. the rest of the bike was no better, the paint was chipped the metal rusted everywhere. the tires were disfigured and wouldn't even roll. they dragged like child resisting the pull of his mother. this was the bike he had, this is the bike he is to sell?
With his back to those that knew him he again withdrew to the shadows, the fog and mist tarried for his return, like a mistress of dark comfort it waited.
"They will call me The Bike Guy" he said as he entered the foreboding fog where non where brave enough to venture not even his family. He was doing something with the hand he had been holding, attaching it . . . to a maniquin. he was talking to a i. He was clearly heard s addressing it looking up into its face . obscured from us we wondered of this . ..yes. bikes . a lot of bikes. perhaps a hundred. . . a hundred, The truck blew by me and into the fog, which seemed to embrace, him,. And just like that , the truck was gone, swallowed whole in that oily black cloud . the truck was simply no more you could hear nothing, no sound of rubber against road or wind being pushed around by a 16 wheeled bully .. why, . even the horn had been suddenly muted.. it was quite surreal, indeed the strangest thing This reporter has seen in recent times . my instincts tell me something is amiss here. and with that thought declared goose bumps appeared on my arms and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.
" The one hundred have arrived , Sir"
The announcement could barely be heard for the silencing effects of, that infernal opaque abomination. Gloom is what it is, gloom I tell you. There is no other way to describe it.. yes, gloom this supernatural oose was no doubt pure gloom. There is no other way to describe the aberration hear it for that silencing black mist. The one hundred are here...
That's how the Bike Guy story began. . . well I may have embellished it a little. But I get to do that I lived it. . and now to the present
chapter two
