Adopted

Parents of an adopted child will often tell them. “We chose you, and that makes you special.” I came to these United States in January 1979, in a few weeks’ time I will have lived here 44 years. That is longer than I lived in England, the country of my birth.

I adopted this country, which makes it special. I do not take this country or it’s people for granted as I might have done had I been born here.

A country and its people are one of the same, The USA being so large often feels like several different countries. To understand this, a person has to travel and live many places, as I have done. 

From New Jersey, close to New York City, to San Diego, California. Then gradually northwards to Riverside County, to Los Angeles. To Eugene, Oregon, then back across this country to South Carolina.

Throughout my travels, on meeting strangers, because of my accent as soon as I open my mouth I am viewed as a foreigner. Just as it is unwise for an American to travel overseas and express a political opinion, it is also best I remain neutral.

By taking political opinions out of the equation, I tend to see others as either good or bad, which is all there is really. If I choose friends based solely on some political leaning, I miss out on some good people, and allow others closer than they should be, taking my best interest into account.

I have no room for negativity in my life, either people or obsessing over it in the news or social media. Sadly, the media thrives on negativity, but I have come to realize if I look at the perspective of it, the goodness in the world, far outweighs the bad.

For example, I read about a mass shooting somewhere, and five or six people died. Not to make light of such a tragedy, but out of a population of over 300 million, the ratio of evil as opposed to good is a tiny percentage.

My point is, I can do little as an individual to stop these heinous acts, but when the good far outweighs the evil, why would I dwell on the bad?

You can define a country as the land mass it occupies, but the real spirit of any country, its heart and soul, is its people. As long as good people far outweigh the bad, and love outweighs the hate, there is hope.

Short back and sides

I have seen fashions come and go many times over the years, trends go out of style, and often given time will become fashionable again and appear for another-go-round.

One fashion I never expected to see again is the “Short back and sides” haircut. (Left.)

Reason being, it was never really a fashion statement, it came about out of necessity.

The decade from 1930 on, there was a world-wide depression.

Men were unemployed much of the time, but at the same time in order to get even casual temporary work, a person had to maintain a clean and presentable appearance.

A razor blade could be had for a penny, it was inexpensive and easy for men to keep themselves clean shaven. However, a hair cut is a different matter.

It had to be cheap, which meant quick and easy, and to maintain the tidy appearance, it was necessary to have a haircut every two weeks.

Men wore hats, either a brimmed felt hat, or a cloth cap. All a person needed was a pair of non-electric hand operated shears, to set themselves up in business charging a nickel for a short back and sides haircut, extra for some cut off the top.

The depression of the 1930s was followed by WWII, these were hard times, the trend continued. I remember in the 1940s, every two weeks, a silver shilling (12 Pennies.) clutched in my hand, running 2 or 3 miles, to a house where a Mr. West lived.

Mr. West had 12 children, which is probably how he got into the business of cutting hair.

After the war in my pre-teen years I would go to the barber shop for a haircut every two weeks, there was only one style, short back and sides.

I remember I had to ask the barber not to go too high at the back and sides, I hated to have my hair left like a little round skull cap on top of my head.

On weekends there would be 10 or 12 people waiting, but with each haircut taking only 5 or 10 minutes, the wait was never that long.

To me the short back and sides was a trend of that era, never a fashion. Who could indulge in fashion, when all a person could do is survive. It lasted 30 years from 1930 to the 1950s. Fashions do not last that long.

By the 1950s my generation were the first to come of age after the war, and to become interested in our appearance and fashion, and I would travel miles to avoid getting a haircut like the ones I see trending today.

I would get on a train and travel to London and pay good money to get my hair styled like Tony Curtis, (Above left.) or Robert Mitchum (Above right.) Note that movie stars did not have a short back and sides haircut, their hair was styled.

It seems to me that these over the top, “Manly” haircuts that are trending today, hark back to time when men were tough. They kind of act like a “Padded bra of masculinity.”

In the 1950s we all wanted to be different and to look different. We did so by all looking the same, as every new generation has done since.

It never works. A persons looks are what they are given in life, all one can do is exercise and eat healthy to make the most of what they have.

A confident demeanor and personality will take a person further than mere looks. And no haircut or style will make you appear tougher, or prettier, or whatever look you are going for.

Protest

In the UK this last week there was a big brouhaha over British Cycling partnering, and accepting sponsorship cash from Shell Oil.  One would have thought  that British Cycling would have at least gone with a British oil company like BP. Shell is an American company, partnered with a Dutch Company.

Perhaps that was the reasoning behind another protest in London when two young women threw tomato soup over Dutch painter Vincent Van Gough’s Sunflower painting. Fortunately, the painting was behind glass, so a quick once over with a paper towel and some glass cleaner, and the protest was nothing more than a waste of soup.

The protest was against the use of oil. I would have thought in the UK above all places, the price of gasoline, (Petrol.) is so high that most people are only using it as is absolutely necessary.

I am sure no one is driving around looking for a Shell Station to buy that particular brand of fuel because they saw a Shell Logo on a cyclist’s jersey. That is the crux of it. We all know burning fossil fuel as bad for the environment, the problem is consumerism in general.

I hate the type of protest that draws attention to a problem but offers no solution to the underlying issue. Throwing soup over works of art or giving British Cycling shit for taking money that the sport of cycling can put to good use, solves nothing.

In the 1970s and 1980s I produced a few thousand bicycle frames and did so with a very low carbon footprint. Here we are thirty, forty or more years later, and people are still riding these same bikes. Most still have the original paint, so they don’t even need a re-paint.

Everything produced today has built in obsolescence, including bicycles, and especially phones and other electronic devices. Most made in China from materials derived from oil, using electricity produced using China’s abundant supply of cheap coal.

I have done my bit for the environment and continue to do so. I don’t eat meat, and I don’t buy stuff I don’t need. I have clothes in my closet that probably older than most of the people protesting on the streets today

And if a large corporate oil conglomerate wants to give me money, they can contribute copious amounts of cash by the cartload. I’ll take it

Thank you in advance 😊

Bob Hovey's Masi Registry

Bob Hovey’s Registry of Masi Frames has been around for many years, in fact I borrowed the idea when I opened my own Dave Moulton Registry in 2010.

Just today I got a request from Jonathan Justman, original owner of a Masi Gran Criterium serial number D8016. He asked if it could be added to my Dave Moulton Registry. I had to explain that there is no section for Masi frames on my registry, as I do not consider them to be my frames.

I was employed to build these frames from October 1980 until December 1981, but they were built strictly to Faliero Masi’s design. In fact, the frame shop where I worked had a set of “Jig-frames,” unpainted frames in every size, that were actually built by Faliero himself.

These were used to set up the frame jig and ensured that every frame built was an exact copy of the “jig” frames. The various adjustable clamps that held the tubes in the jig were loosened and the jig frame then clamped in place.

Once the set up was complete, and the jig frame removed, the jig was set to this particular size. I simply had to miter the tubes to fit, it was not even necessary that I knew what size frame I was building.

Also, as a paid employee I had no legal rights, to the Masi brand name, and I still don’t. I cannot claim that these are my frames, any more than a journalist in paid employment can claim copywrite for the articles they wrote. The product produced is the property of the employer, not the employee.

Having said that the California Masi frames built during my tenure mentioned above, were not only date stamped, but were marked SMC for San Marcos, California. The date stamp was in the form of A, B, C, and D representing the four quarters of the year, followed by the last two digits of the year. Followed by two more digits that were the number frame that quarter.

Jonathan Justman’s frame number D8016 was built around the end of October 1980 and has the SMC, so there is a good possibility I built it. Ted Kirkbride who owned the shop and subcontracted to build the Masi’s at that time, also built some of the custom orders like track frames or odd sizes.

If owners of the SMC frames with serial numbers starting D80**, A81**, B81**, C81**, and D81**, feel they have some added value having been built by me, I am flattered but lay no claim to these frames.

They belong on Bob Hovey’s Masi Registry, were a few of them have a side note that I built them.

The Queen

The Queen died this week. I find it interesting that Elizabeth II, Queen of the United Kingdom, and the British Commonwealth is referred to as “The Queen,” and everyone knows who that is. There are other countries in the world that are Monarchies with a King or Queen and a Royal Family, but I cannot name them all off the top of my head.

I find it “Neat,” (For want of a better word.) that countries like Britain have a head of state, whose ancestry can be traced back hundreds of years, and are direct descendants of former heads of state. A symbolic, non-political head of state in name only that is, but never-the-less it gives one a comforting sense of continuity.

That continuity has now been broken, and for me is a loss that took several days to actually sink in. I was 16 years old and just started work early in 1952 when the Queen’s father George VI died. Elizabeth’s Coronation came a year later in 1953. For those born around or since that date, The Queen has always been there. Her face on postage stamps, and on paper money and coins.

Her presence always gave me a sense that the government was somehow less powerful. Whether that was true or not, I am not sure, but I always felt that whoever was in charge, it would not affect my life that much, and they could be booted out of office in the next election.

I carried this feeling over to these United States where I have lived for over 43 years, more than half my life. As a Green Card-carrying Resident, I have no vote, but I fret far less over who is President, or what the Government does. Instead, I care more who my friends are and what I can do for others.

The Queen did not choose who she was, that was thrust upon her, but it was a crown she carried well. Sure, she was a celebrity with all the wealth and luxury that it brings, but it was not a position that she could slip away from and quietly retire.

She lived her life with dignity, as a servant to her people. A reminder that we are all servants in some way or other. We have no choice where we came from, but we do get to decide where we are headed and who we choose to accompany us on that journey.