Like A Ferrari
The woman had a firm grip on Bob's arm as she gently and deliberately steered him away from the booth, and her husband. In a low voice, in an urgent whisper, she asked, "You're not going to strip it down, are you? It would break his heart if you do." There was something in the look she gave him that Bob recognized. The woman was dead serious, and the warning was clear. Though up to this point Bob had not said a word, he understood immediately the several things being conveyed in the woman's furtive inquiry. One, she had pegged him as a determined buyer. Two, they were motivated sellers. Three, the husband was very attached to it --a prized possession. Four, the sale might go badly, or not at all, if he admitted his intention.
"No, No! Goodness No! That’s not going to happen! No!" he protested smoothly, noting the alarm in her voice. "It's an Italian classic for heavens sake. How could I?" He had spotted the bike during the preview session at the big Velo Swap Meet in Denver the night before. Sitting up on the table, it lacked only wheels --but no big deal. It was beautiful. He made up his mind right then --on the spot. He wanted it. He could strip off the component parts and reassemble them on the Alan frame he had at home, and have an extraordinarily fine ride out of the bargain. He had a good set of wheels for it, too. The owner had not been around when Bob first laid eyes on the rare Guerciotti. He marked the booth number and vowed to return first thing in the morning. He would be there at the earliest possible moment.
Bob's emphatic denial was all that the woman really needed to hear. The subterfuge was accepted and he wrote the check. With ownership transferred, he was in possession of one of the finest bicycles ever built. The Guerciotti name is to the cycling industry what the Ferrari name is to the sports car industry. To own one is to own something very special. Under the watchful eye of the woman's husband, Bob lifted the bike up off the table with both hands. Turning slowly in the cramped booth, being very careful not to bang into anything, he headed down the wide corridors of the Velo Swap Meet. Mission accomplished.
When he got the bike home, Bob thought, "What the hell, before I strip it, I'll just give it one turn around the block --see how it handles." He slipped on the set of wheels that were intended for the Alan frame and took it for a spin. The unexpected happened. He fell in love. From the moment he got on it, he knew that he couldn’t strip it. It was a very fast, very precise, very delicate machine. It was an absolutely great ride. He heard the woman's voice again, and felt the previous owner's fanatical attachment and obvious consternation about selling it to the wrong person --to a person who would strip it --who would not fully appreciate what an engineering marvel the Guerciotti truly is.
The End