Always check the garage

Lewis and I just got back from the worst estate sale I’d ever been to. The little house was filthy beyond belief and cigarette smoke hung in the air like mustard gas (not only were there ash burns on the carpets, furniture and counters, there was even one on a globe. How do you burn a globe?) There was absolutely nothing worth paying a buck for in the house, and I mean nothing. To complete the less-than-enchanting experience, the little white mongrel that belonged to the place kept nipping at Lewis and I. The beast had a taste for our calves.

There was a wonderful 1960 Raleigh 3-speed hanging in the garage, though. Black with gold pinstriping, Brooks saddle, and generator, all intact. Not a balloon-tire bike mind you, but one worth saving nevertheless.

It is thus back here at the shop and will get a refurb someday soon. Hopefully by late spring. After that, I’ll find it a good home. That is, unless Fluff claims it.

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