4:33 p.m. someone's talking about my bike. he's directly to my right and i think that he must not think i'm the builder because he's making statements instead of asking questions. maybe his friend just doesn't know much about what she's looking at. i know enough not to try to describe it. this guy apparently knows more.
"classic brazed frame. you just put a little silver and some flux in there and then..." hey, tranny. appreciate that bike for the paint job. and yeah, i know that it needs a new one.
"hey, tina? tina?" i don't know what the guy from vendetta wants from her, but she's been busy taking photographs all day, and i can't think of a single reason that justifies him in tearing her away from her conversation with that old man.
so it's because they're together, and boy-o wants her to pack up so they can split. "you don't have to blog about that." whoops.
4:41 p.m. low battery. outlet finding.
4:53 p.m. squeezing myself under the display to find the outlet in this shirt regretting.
lubricated enough to start trying my hand at explanations. "carbon fiber seat mast...epoxy...fits right through the lug up to the saddle rails." nice to meet you, maria.
five more minutes. then tear down. then grocery shopping, which, i'll be honest, will probably get sidelined to grabbing a bike from home and going up to southwest to meet the cyclocrossers post-race.
the tool bags cost $120. TOOL BAG! well, it's, like, sixty dollars worth of tools. awesome. and the shirts are twenty? wrap it up!
and wrap it up.
kelly stops by the booth -- on her way to find andy (who knows where edwin is?) -- to say hello and goodbye and don't they want to pack this stuff up already? there was a surge today, apparently, but the crowd wasn't anything to compare to yesterday's. sunday, though. what can you do? well done, kelly. well done, obca.
"nice rack!" from behind me. and laughs. it's not that great a joke, but we all appreciate getting it. that's oregon, and that's bikes.
5:13 p.m. who's up for dinner? aperitifs? oregon and bikes mean parties, and it's just to know who and where. and where the fuck is edwin?
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