Recently, I stumbled across a listing for a bike for sale in Foster City, about an hour away from where I live. There was no price listed for this 1996 Masi Gran Corsa fully equipped with Campy Record components, but after a few email exchanges with the seller we settled on a thoroughly fair (for me, maybe not for him but he didn't seem to mind) price.
As we discussed when and where to complete this transaction, he said he'd never used Craigslist before and had heard about scary things happening to people buying and selling on CL. I said I'd heard those things too. So he asked if I'd feel safe meeting in the parking lot of the police department in Foster City. I said that sounded like a safe place.
When we arrived at the address he'd given me for the PD on Tuesday morning, it turned out to be the parking lot of a community center. Not a police car or officer in sight. But there was a little car with a red Masi strapped to the back, so we knew we were in the right place. "It's not the police department!" I exclaimed. "So what, there's the bike right there," said Jon. As we pulled in, I noticed the little car was empty. "He's not here!" I yelled. "He's right there," Jon said, gesturing toward a cute little man walking toward us.
"You sometimes act like everything is an emergency," observed Jon. I remained silent, because he is right.
The little man selling the bike turned out to be a sweet older gentleman who said he had too many bikes and his wife had given him some sort of ultimatum, so the Masi had to go. I wondered what other bikes he had, if this was the one he decided to sell. I should've asked him if he had a spare De Rosa laying around. Perhaps I'll email him.
The one minor tragedy of this bike is that the sweet older gentleman decided, at some point, to "upgrade" to a carbon fork. I inquired as to the whereabouts of the original fork, and sadly, he said he left it at the bike shop when he had the new fork put on.
Maybe I'll call all the bike shops in Foster City. There can't be that many, can there?
As we discussed when and where to complete this transaction, he said he'd never used Craigslist before and had heard about scary things happening to people buying and selling on CL. I said I'd heard those things too. So he asked if I'd feel safe meeting in the parking lot of the police department in Foster City. I said that sounded like a safe place.
When we arrived at the address he'd given me for the PD on Tuesday morning, it turned out to be the parking lot of a community center. Not a police car or officer in sight. But there was a little car with a red Masi strapped to the back, so we knew we were in the right place. "It's not the police department!" I exclaimed. "So what, there's the bike right there," said Jon. As we pulled in, I noticed the little car was empty. "He's not here!" I yelled. "He's right there," Jon said, gesturing toward a cute little man walking toward us.
"You sometimes act like everything is an emergency," observed Jon. I remained silent, because he is right.
The little man selling the bike turned out to be a sweet older gentleman who said he had too many bikes and his wife had given him some sort of ultimatum, so the Masi had to go. I wondered what other bikes he had, if this was the one he decided to sell. I should've asked him if he had a spare De Rosa laying around. Perhaps I'll email him.
The one minor tragedy of this bike is that the sweet older gentleman decided, at some point, to "upgrade" to a carbon fork. I inquired as to the whereabouts of the original fork, and sadly, he said he left it at the bike shop when he had the new fork put on.
Maybe I'll call all the bike shops in Foster City. There can't be that many, can there?
4 comments:
Can't keep up with your cute bike collection. But I will try. . .
Now I have something nice to ride while the Merckx is off getting painted...if I ever pick a color.
Doesn't Dave Stoller ride a red Masi. or is it orange?
I was just thinking about that movie yesterday. I didn't remember that DS rode a Masi. Clearly I need to watch that movie again.
Post a Comment