Im half a world away but i can almost hear the soothing tones of Hobart beckoning. Its got to be better than the “mister, mister” or “where you from sar”, i keep getting from all these bloody Indians. If only Bill’s brake would let me sleep at night though. All it wants to do is go hit the piss and look for hookers. I dont know what Bill’s done to this poor young fellow. Lets just say i think he was brought up with a rough crowd and has had a terrible father figure in his life. I know he’s got a complex, he’s an old shimano 105 without much bling credentials. Im trying to tell him that you dont have to be a record or a dura-ace, its what you’re attatched to. Being the open minded brake he is, he replied “i know, i just want to mount myself to some fine freewheeling italan steel”
I will see what i can do…