Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, sometime in 1993: It was a regular day, like any other. I decided to pop into my local bike shop, Bay Ridge Bicycle World. I hadn’t seen Patrice, the owner, or Gerald, the wrench, in a few months. I walked in and saw a beautiful sight, a Tommaso frame hanging from the ceiling. I said “wow, she’s beautiful”. Patrice pointed a tobacco stained finger at me and said “that’s an Italian racing bike, it’s not for you!” I don’t remember if I gave her a smart-ass response but, being a native New Yorker, I probably did. It hung there unsold and after a year I convinced Patrice to sell it to me.
The bike and I have been through a lot together. I’ve been squished between two buses in Manhattan, crashed in the Adirondacks which dented the top tube and gave me a concussion and I was knocked over by a pickup truck. But lots of good things too, century rides in Montauk, New York, Lake Tahoe and Savannah and countless shorter rides as well as some light touring. Throughout the years my Tommaso has been a faithful companion and just like her owner, she’s a tough New Yorker.