A maker isn’t someone who makes things. A maker is part of a process. The process. I never considered it at the beginning. And after many years of making I still didn’t understand the connection. That distinction. Then one day after a decent amount of time and a motherlode of trips to the bench, it all made sense. The repetition. The routine. The relentlessness. It delivered me to a place where I became a line item on a long list of materials and tools necessary to make fine bicycles. The years pass. Decades too. Picking up torches and abrasives and steel and tapping my experience from every day before that very day. I began to understand what intuition is. And what effortless means. And the confidence that comes from doing rather than thinking. It’s a thrill. And one I’ve only known intimately for the last several years. Because that’s how long it took.
The closer I get to some things the harder they are to touch. But I can feel them. I feel them.
All This By Hand
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