As the common saying goes, "Truth is stranger than fiction". How else can you explain the following:
How'd that happen? Read on, dear reader, read on.
As I have mentioned in previous months, I think that the Robby Rupe-built BADD Revolution frames are probably the highest-quality items of their type that I have ever seen. Strong, stiff, as light as the Standard "R-Model" without the exorbitant price tag, with a near-automotive finish quality and admirable welds - I could go on, dear readers, I really could. The only reason I hadn't purchased one prior to Terry's closing announcement was my belief that I would never again spend a significant amount of time on a 20" - and when Terry more or less called my bluff, I stepped up and, just like French landowners in Angola, paid the price for my black Revolution. (Sorry 'bout that.)
While Terry packed and shipped my frame, I was busy talking to my Bolivian pal, Raul Ruiz. He was starting to worry about the durability of his three-year-old Specialized Fat Boy, particularly since he was regularly riding pro sections with it. I suggested that he try my BADD once it arrived. When that day came, we built it with his parts and Raul tried it out. I never got that frame back!
Racing Pro at a National for his first time, Raul used his new BADD to take first place in both A Pro and Pro Open. Compared to his Specialized, the BADD was just as light, nearly as stiff, and easier to ride - and unlike the Specialized, it was safe for trail and skatepark riding. It was a match made in heaven, and I agreed to sell it to him for what I paid for it. I ordered a second frame from Terry - he was down to five left. Whew! Lucky me - I was almost too late!
When "my" BADD arrived, I promptly built it up with all-new parts and dragged it to my local track. Years of riding big, stable cruisers had left me ill-prepared for the way in which this little bike cut through corners and wiggled over jumps. The corners of my local track were revealed to have lines I couldn't have considered on my PL-24, and the lips of the jumps displayed new inconsistencies made clear through the smaller tires and less flexy frame. Nice bike. It might take me a while to get used to it, but I fully expected to eventually bond with it just as I bonded to my Free Agent Limo so many years ago.
Last weekend, Raul took his BADD to the ABA World Championships and placed second in A Pro, amazing the crowd with his ability to hit the gate, drop a pedal, and then recover five places in a Pro moto. His take-no-prisoners style attracted the attention of Kami Racing, who made him a sponsorship offer that Sunday afternoon. Raul returned from his discussion with the Kami folks to find an empty spot where his bike had been...
Permit me to be paranoid for a moment. In a World Championships full of thousand-dollar bikes and cutting-edge components, why would someone steal an unmarked Cr-Mo bike with out-of-round wheels and worn-out grips? Why would someone steal that bike out of a group of more expensive, flashier bikes under a tent? Was it really to get the bike, or was it someone else in the A Pro ranks attempting to protect their NBL Worlds payday?
Okay, paranoid time's over. It was probably a random theft - and even if it wasn't, the end result was the same. Raul was without a bike, with the NBL Worlds starting in four days. He could afford to buy a new bike - the ABA had paid him $500, and his father had recently arrived from Bolivia - but could he get used to something else with just four days to go until what might be the most important race of his life?
All was quiet at Casa Boswell when the phone rang. I had been half-asleep in my chair, an unread issue of Superbike in my lap, the lights turned down to permit me to relax at the end of what had been an extremely annoying day spent with my most annoying client. I picked up the phone. It was Raul. Could I provide him with my frame until after the NBL Grands? He really needed it.
What to do, dear readers, what to do? I had waited fifteen long years to own a bike this nice, a bike built up from all-new, top-notch components, assembled with the utmost care, and lovingly scrubbed down after the first of what would likely be many more visits to tracks, trails, and quarterpipes, each trip to be followed by a careful cleaning and tuning. A bike to last for the rest of my career, however long that would turn out to be. And who was Raul to demand this bike from me? A kid, some newbie A Pro who had experienced nothing but success in his racing career, someone blessed with immense talent and the courage to use it, someone who like me had broken his neck on a BMX bike but unlike me had come back better and stronger from it...
Someone in the prime of his cycling life, ready to realize the dream that every kid has the first time he drops a gate - to win, and be a champion, and be the best. Terry had no more frames left. Who deserved this last bike - a perpetually working, broken-down, overweight, old dreamer - or a young Pro on the edge of a potentially brilliant career?
Raul drove over a few hours later. We broke the bike down together. I sold it to him under the same terms I'd sold him the first one. I put the remaining parts in a box and put that box in the basement. Raul drove back to Louisville, ready to assemble his new bike and take on the NBL Worlds. I can't see the future, but I like his chances.
So now I'm without a frame again. I need a strong Cr-Mo frame,
between 21" and 22" on the top tube, not too heavy, preferably in
black. I'm out shopping now. Raul's out riding. It was the right thing
to do.