Welcome to the Corsa Cycles Blog! The team are now ‘bloggers’ and they promise to keep this page fresh and updated with tales tall or small. A stale blog is almost as bad as a messy front yard- unattractive to the passerby's and slightly embarrassing to the owners.
This piece will be the Maiden Voyage and I’ve been practicing my letters and words, but not much grammar as I slept that portion of Mr. Demers class. So I’ve been putting the letters together to make words into sentences and hoping that it will eventually end up somewhere. I was debating writing a piece about Spring riding. But it would lead to discussing the rain but it would probably come off sounding crotchety and would leave you wondering, “why the hell do you live here?” And anyways...it’s sunny out today.
So since this is the Corsa Cycles blog I thought maybe it was suiting to write how I ended up running the show (ya right - we all know Sandra is the boss.) It all started when a 13 year old kid wanted some sick BOMBER forks for their Rocky Mountain Fusion. I saw a pair hanging on the wall in Corsa and instantly wanted them! Thank god Dave was there to talk me into some Rockshox... and I was able to talk him into a job. It’s still claimed he thought I was 16 and a boy. But one day a week I started sweeping floors, cleaning his car, cleaning the bathroom, taking out the garbage and generally doing the things that Dave does now. I don’t think I said much at all for the first few years, I was 13 after all and had somehow found myself getting life lessons from Mike Carney.
There were some pretty good days at the old shop with past and present staff. I still have a video clip of Pat hurling himself off the loft into a stack of cardboard yelling ‘hardcore parkour.’ It was based off this video and I can only assume Dave and Sandra were down south at the time.
I remember Mich going up to the loft to nap off his last night adventures, or losing his bet against Dave and having to streak at our Christmas party from the Super8 back to the shop. I’ll never forget ‘white lightening’ bounding across the school field and into the Nesters parking lot... no matter how hard I try.
So 10 years later, regardless of what brand of bike I’m riding or my yearly schedule I’m pretty damn lucky to have been able to keep sneaking my way back into the shop. It’s proof that your local bike shop is more than just a store. (BOOM! you just got cliched!)