Yep, the geezer behind this blogular endeavor turned over another digit on the ol' odometer of life last week, proving yet again that Indiana Jones was right: It's not the years, it's the mileage.
Dear Mum sent me a little birthday package that included an Xfire tail light with frickin' laser beams so I can make my own bike lane wherever I go (Mum worries about her little boy's safety, and can't resist the oddest of bicycle gadgetry gifts). I'll review it eventually, but it was the other gift in the package (something she "just happened to find while going through boxes") that made me even happier:
If this were just a bicycle belt buckle, meh. I'm not the sort who feels the need to collect random stuff that just happens to have bikes on it (insert nightmare vision of being crushed to death under an avalanche of bicycle knick-knacks here). But this belt buckle belonged to my late Grandpa N, who was an absolute biking fiend. Since I love the photo in that linked post, let's put it up again:
So the belt buckle: Not just any old bicycle knick-knack. He WORE that thing. Daily. He's probably wearing it in that photo. I don't think he was allowed to wear it to church, but if he wasn't in his Sunday clothes, that brass bicycle was probably keeping his pants up. My lousy photography doesn't show it, but the brass has the patina to back up my story. Sure, you can go to the hardware store and buy any number of faucets and light fixtures in brand-new, fake aged brass, but this is some AGED brass, with a little bit of blue-green in the crevices to show off its copper content (appropriate for a guy who made his living stringing copper wires).
I can't decide if I want to actually use it myself (adding my own patina, I suppose) or display it, but for now, I'm just happy to turn it over in my hands and remember the man who wore it.