Winter Projects: Schwinn Madison Part 5

by Jeff on April 8, 2013

So far I’ve got 2 coats of lacquer on the frame, and I couldn’t be happier with how it’s coming along. I’ve also begun assembling the all silver parts kit that the “good guy” bike commands.

Martin called it the good guy bike because all black out rides were the steeze at the time, so this one’s white paint and silver parts made it stand out.

The linseed oil gave it that wet look, and now it’s getting ever deeper as I add coats of hard clear lacquer over it. I was a bit nervous about applying the lacquer as I suck at spray painting but no matter how chunky and pooly the lacquer goes on it seems to even itself out and dry flat.

On another note about the bike, recently Josh asked me “how can you ride another person’s scratches” to which I replied they aren’t someone else’s scratches they’re my friend Martin’s, and I’ve been geeking out on all the history he’s laid on me about it. Sorry to get all grandiose about it, but I get all pumped about the stewardship aspect of this rig.

For one it’s an old school Madison, of which I am partial, second of all it was owned by someone whom I respect very much, and thirdly it was a rusting hunk of crap when it passed into my possession and thus provided the perfect canvas to experiment and try out a few things.

So anyway, I ran into Martin on Saturday while doing the Lillydale loop and he dropped some new knowledge on me. He says “Have you noticed those dings on the right side of the head tube? That’s because I use to carry my lock in two pieces, the straight piece in my left and the shackle in the right. The shackle used to sometimes bump against it, but it was a way faster lockup when you got to your destination.”

Check the difference:
shackle side

straight bar side

Every scratch has a story.  Remember to embrace them and not be a whiny bitch about it, they’re the life the bike has lead and they are beautiful.  While you’re at it, remember to feel the same way about your own body, embrace the scars, the crow’s feet, the smile lines.  Baby you were there.


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