The question was asked of me why go to the bother to install a REV2 mod? What purpose does the REV2 mod serve when a reversed flop and chop gets me higher and closer to the action? What’s the point if I have to explain it, and anyhow, I would botch it up with my broken english. So, I want to give it over to my Cock[pit who knows better than I what works and what doesn’t. This is what my Cock[pit is saying to me, albet I needed to employ a translator of a sort, since I don’t speak Portuguese.
I started out mind you, with the intention of going through my twilight years unencumbered, snoozing in a dark parts box on a cool shelf after having spent many secure years as a racing cock[pit for the Nishiki brand name. Well, as a matter of course racing drop bars are a pretty thing among the crowd I run in, well, the crowd I once was a part of, young and vibrant, like the day would never stop shining, those days gone, late in the 70’s.
Then came the lost decades when my driver stopped riding me. Mom and Dad would take care of me he said. Twenty five years went by in that garage, while Mr. College graduate moved to the coast and mom and dad got grey. Then one day a whole bunch of people showed up for a garage sale. Man, I thought they were selling the roof right out from under my head. No, wait, everything was selling, everything including me. Not me I screamed, take the garage. Sorry the garage says, I stay and you all must go. And off I went in the back of some beat pick-up truck to a place called the bone yard. And there I rested tangled in a heap of hundreds of bicycles bidding time until the dismantler showed up for work. Nice friendly, dismantler, he liked his job and was gentle with me. And in a box I went up on to a shelf, getting looked at every once in a while, the prospect of a new home becoming but a faint glimmer.
So, this fellow comes into the bone yard one day and buys up all the racing drop bars for like $5 dollars apiece. I’ve heard of the recycler before, the one who takes you to the smelter, but he didn’t look anything like I would imagine a recycler to look like. No, we got packed up and toted to another sweet garage and then hung out like a display. On a Saturday afternoon, that’s when I lost it, I mean that’s when he came with a tube cutter and disected my two bar ends. Chop. Chop. A good 4″ of me gone. May as well take the rest of me to the recycler, I’d been amputated! Like a mad scientist he worked a new curvy bar end onto the old me and it really was sort of nice seeing it on me when he was finished. Oh, and then the not so mad scientist did something topsy turvy to me that I’ll never get over. Instead of me looking out towards the road ahead now I could see my rider and the road behind. This new window on the world wasn’t so bad afterall. It was engaging to know the rider was taking this old thing, me, and giving me new life, new reverse brake levers and new bar tape, I’d gone soooo long without tape ooh aaahhh. Then it hit me. The rider mounted the new bike and took hold of me, his cock[pit, and there in the garage as we spun out into the daylight were other cock[pits that looked like me. Not knowing what to expect I just let him hang on with this fierce grip that was also gentle. I was beside myself. His hands moved over my tubing every so lightly at times and at other times when braking this new curvy bar end would be like a phantom before I once would get used to it’s life of it’s own. The crazy thing about this story, as a former racing handlebar I have the ability to speak, but this new creation that the mad scientist stuck in me cannot speak as we know it, more like telepathy. So, the curvy thing that is called the REV2 just wants everyone to know it is loving every minute of the ride. The REV2 knows it would only be a pile of parts and in fact that’s close to what I was, a part in a pile, if the mad scientist had not imagined a better handlebar for the world to use.