It's one in, one out around here, so the 'vento got debuilt and its assorted gizzards, bits and pieces went off to the transplant bank. I love the process of building bikes. There's something lovely about starting off with a frame and a pile of assorted parts and watching them morph steadily into a living, breathing animal. The precision of bolting things together. Adjustments. Clicks. A blend of exactness and feel.
And then the first ride and that odd mix of novelty and familiarity. And, oh, blimey, it does that really well. Like the first time you sleep with someone. But probably best not to sleep with a bike.
What's it like? A steamroller downhill making implacable progress with a funny mix of roll-over lateral stiffness and roll-round flexibility. Slack and solid and muscular. And a steamroller uphill, tolerating appalling line choices to clean the bulk of Middle Moor in reverse - no, I didn't get up the steps, but I will - and beguilingly accurate as in 'I'll just ride this narrow rut ridge because I can' sort of way.
And on the flat, a stroppy, surly, uninterested teenager moping along with its hands in its pockets and whining quietly to anyone who'll listen.