Last night I witnessed my boyfriend sneaking onto his iPad to check out the latest cyclingnews.com updates as we tried to fall asleep. Although he denied it being anthing fanatical - saying it's "more about the business of it" now - a girl's got to wonder: is cycling sort of like an addiction? Or does a bike get more beautiful knowing the price, weight, and company history of ceramic bearings and brake pads? It's now 1:04 am. I'm seated in the Fast and Furious bike shop in Lucca keeping a certain someone company as he builds up his precious five Parlee bicycles for the big trip up to Germany on Monday. I've been known to pull all-nighters on behalf of thesis papers and last-minute suitcase packing (holding my breath for Sunday), but I never in my life have I sat in a messy, tire-trodden bike shop on a broken stool.
At the same time as I continue to have my "identity crisis" with the sport and the bicycles that captivate my boyfriend's attention, there is something humbling about being in the presence of a bike that was designed by the master of carbon fiber, Bob Parlee, and his company.
Bringing them to Eurobike will be like seeing children off to their first day of school - knowing they'll see a lot of amazing things, and hopefully they won't get too beat up along the way (I am fully aware that this is a horrible analogy).