|
|
Thread Tools | Display Modes |
#1
|
|||
|
|||
Memories of Sheldon
I have been a bit too shocked over the last 24 hours to add anything to
the expressions of sadness here. I've spent a few hours (re)reading his blogs and the messages left by so many on lists and news groups. I was struck by how few of us had actually known Sheldon in the "real world", so I thought I might share a few of my experiences. I first met Sheldon in the mid-90's after finding Harris Cyclery and his articles on the Internet. The irony was that his home and shop were less than a mile away. I wheeled my old 68cm Raleigh into the shop with 2 broken rear spokes. Little did I know what I had started. "Whoever built this wheel *almost* knew what they were doing", he said after a lot of scrutinizing and beard tugging. He went on to explain that I would continue to break spokes and would be better off with a new wheel (which he would be happy to build for me). I was only just getting back into cycling, and hemmed and hawed as I wasn't sure how much I wanted to invest in that well-used bike. He looked me square in the eye and said "I can't sell you a bike that will fit you," (I'm 6'10") "but I can make this one fit." From there, he went on to explain all the related issues this would bring up -- cassette/freewheel, sprockets, frame spacing, 27" to 700c conversion, etc. My head spun as I wondered what I had gotten into. Over the next several months, I became a regular visitor to Sheldon's shop as he replaced virtually every component on that bike. I began calling it the "stone soup" bike after the fable where the sly fox tricks a farmer by teaching him how to make soup with water and a stone (plus just a few optional ingredients...). He got a big laugh from that name. Often, during those visits, I would hang about his cluttered basement workshop while he wrenched away, me peppering him with questions all the while. I never knew whether he enjoyed my interest or merely tolerated my pestering in a good natured way. I try to think he liked the company, but he was such a gentleman that I'm not sure how you'd know otherwise. Sheldon could be very opinionated. He deflated me with an instant verdict when he saw the new ($200) shoes I brought in for cleats: "These are really terrible shoes!" (he was right, of course). He confided in me that he toned things down on-line, not wanting to alienate any potential customers, but in real life he didn't pull the punches. Despite his strong tastes, I found him extremely tolerant and broad minded. As a cycling newbie, I was always getting on various soapboxes, and he seemed to be forever gently correcting me. When I scoffed at mountain bikes, he waxed on about the joys of fat tire biking and clued me in on some of the hidden gem trails in our area. I became a born-again mountain biker, riding another Sheldon special. Fixed gear bicycling was his passion and sideline, but I thought it was the dumbest thing. I held out for a year or two, but when he replaced the stone soup Raleigh frame with a new Cannondale, I let him talk me into making a fixer from the carcass (of course it was stone soup again). Turned out that I loved it -- he knew I would, of course. Over several years, I kept going back to Sheldon as I brought my family into bicycling. I loved the little touches he added, his meticulous work, things that would make me chuckle when I discovered them -- color matched cable ends, shiny dice cube valve caps on my son's bike, stuff like that. Outside the shop, I would sometimes run into him at rides or bike shows. I remember one sweltering August day, him clutching his beloved Hetchins frame, which he had just scored, happy as a kid on Christmas. On another day him driving me back with the bike I rode in on and the one I had just bought, not knowing how I was going to get it home. When I mentioned that I had come for a bike for my son, he swung by his house and fished a frame from behind a pile of bikes in his basement. I built that up and my son still rides it. I had not seen Sheldon much in the last few years. As my skills matured, I needed his services less. That's the way it goes, I guess. I'm afraid I took him for granted a bit, knowing that if I ever had some odd bike problem I could pop over and see him, get some help, maybe chat or have a laugh. I worried when he became ill, as if there was a sudden crack, the possibility, and now there's a hole. They say the good always die too young. To some, 63 may not seem young, but knowing Sheldon allowed me to see how young that could be. I will miss his humor, curiosity, intelligence, infectious enthusiasm and his generous and gentle spirit. I'm sure I'll not know another like him. I'd like to keep writing, but words fail. I really don't want to say goodbye. All the best, Sheldon. All the best. Peter |
Ads |
#2
|
|||
|
|||
Memories of Sheldon
Peter Cole wrote:
I have been a bit too shocked over the last 24 hours to add anything to the expressions of sadness here. I've spent a few hours (re)reading his blogs and the messages left by so many on lists and news groups. I was struck by how few of us had actually known Sheldon in the "real world", so I thought I might share a few of my experiences. Thanks for this, Peter. Chalo |
#3
|
|||
|
|||
Memories of Sheldon
On Feb 5, 2:06*pm, Peter Cole wrote:
I have been a bit too shocked over the last 24 hours to add anything to the expressions of sadness here. I've spent a few hours (re)reading his blogs and the messages left by so many on lists and news groups. I was struck by how few of us had actually known Sheldon in the "real world", so I thought I might share a few of my experiences. I first met Sheldon in the mid-90's after finding Harris Cyclery and his articles on the Internet. The irony was that his home and shop were less than a mile away. I wheeled my old 68cm Raleigh into the shop with 2 broken rear spokes. Little did I know what I had started. "Whoever built this wheel *almost* knew what they were doing", he said after a lot of scrutinizing and beard tugging. He went on to explain that I would continue to break spokes and would be better off with a new wheel (which he would be happy to build for me). I was only just getting back into cycling, and hemmed and hawed as I wasn't sure how much I wanted to invest in that well-used bike. He looked me square in the eye and said "I can't sell you a bike that will fit you," (I'm 6'10") "but I can make this one fit." From there, he went on to explain all the related issues this would bring up -- cassette/freewheel, sprockets, frame spacing, 27" to 700c conversion, etc. My head spun as I wondered what I had gotten into.. Over the next several months, I became a regular visitor to Sheldon's shop as he replaced virtually every component on that bike. I began calling it the "stone soup" bike after the fable where the sly fox tricks a farmer by teaching him how to make soup with water and a stone (plus just a few optional ingredients...). He got a big laugh from that name. Often, during those visits, I would hang about his cluttered basement workshop while he wrenched away, me peppering him with questions all the while. I never knew whether he enjoyed my interest or merely tolerated my pestering in a good natured way. I try to think he liked the company, but he was such a gentleman that I'm not sure how you'd know otherwise. Sheldon could be very opinionated. He deflated me with an instant verdict when he saw the new ($200) shoes I brought in for cleats: "These are really terrible shoes!" (he was right, of course). He confided in me that he toned things down on-line, not wanting to alienate any potential customers, but in real life he didn't pull the punches. Despite his strong tastes, I found him extremely tolerant and broad minded. As a cycling newbie, I was always getting on various soapboxes, and he seemed to be forever gently correcting me. When I scoffed at mountain bikes, he waxed on about the joys of fat tire biking and clued me in on some of the hidden gem trails in our area. I became a born-again mountain biker, riding another Sheldon special. Fixed gear bicycling was his passion and sideline, but I thought it was the dumbest thing. I held out for a year or two, but when he replaced the stone soup Raleigh frame with a new Cannondale, I let him talk me into making a fixer from the carcass (of course it was stone soup again). Turned out that I loved it -- he knew I would, of course. Over several years, I kept going back to Sheldon as I brought my family into bicycling. I loved the little touches he added, his meticulous work, things that would make me chuckle when I discovered them -- color matched cable ends, shiny dice cube valve caps on my son's bike, stuff like that. Outside the shop, I would sometimes run into him at rides or bike shows. I remember one sweltering August day, him clutching his beloved Hetchins frame, which he had just scored, happy as a kid on Christmas. On another day him driving me back with the bike I rode in on and the one I had just bought, not knowing how I was going to get it home. When I mentioned that I had come for a bike for my son, he swung by his house and fished a frame from behind a pile of bikes in his basement. I built that up and my son still rides it. I had not seen Sheldon much in the last few years. As my skills matured, I needed his services less. That's the way it goes, I guess. I'm afraid I took him for granted a bit, knowing that if I ever had some odd bike problem I could pop over and see him, get some help, maybe chat or have a laugh. I worried when he became ill, as if there was a sudden crack, the possibility, and now there's a hole. They say the good always die too young. To some, 63 may not seem young, but knowing Sheldon allowed me to see how young that could be. I will miss his humor, curiosity, intelligence, infectious enthusiasm and his generous and gentle spirit. I'm sure I'll not know another like him. I'd like to keep writing, but words fail. I really don't want to say goodbye. All the best, Sheldon. All the best. Peter Very touching. s |
#4
|
|||
|
|||
Memories of Sheldon
On Feb 5, 11:34 pm, sergio wrote:
On 5 Feb, 20:06, Peter Cole wrote: I have been a bit too shocked over the last 24 hours to add anything ... A portrait to keep. And, truly, something that each of us suspected even not having had the priviledge to meet Captain Sheldon in person. You were a lucky guy, Peter. Sergio Pisa Yeah, that's just the kind of everyday awesomeness I imagined him engaged in. Thanks for sharing, Peter. I think there are a lot of people out there kind of like Sheldon. People who love bikes, and know a lot about them, and who are funny and nice and generous. But Sheldon sure took all that to a different level. Robert |
Thread Tools | |
Display Modes | |
|
|
Similar Threads | ||||
Thread | Thread Starter | Forum | Replies | Last Post |
Thanks for the memories, Jan | gplama[_7_] | Australia | 16 | March 4th 07 10:15 PM |
Moab Memories... | john_childs | Unicycling | 3 | April 20th 06 08:43 PM |
Moab Memories... | swarbrim | Unicycling | 12 | April 19th 06 11:02 PM |
Ah the memories! | stuart doc | UK | 2 | October 4th 05 10:25 PM |
Bring back any good memories? | ireman_1 | Mountain Biking | 3 | August 27th 04 08:14 PM |