— the nice modernist

As the weather turns, I tend toward the work­shop, squir­reled away turn­ing wrenches and smelling of two-​​stroke motor oil. This is a world I stum­bled upon, years ago, that has become very much a part of me—despite the chal­lenges of geog­ra­phy, parts avail­abil­ity, and pre­vail­ing atti­tude towards such means of trans­port in an oil town, such as this.

A very good friend of mine has decided to have a go at a shop, and I’m hap­pily along for the ride. If you ride a clas­sic Vespa or Lam­bretta, BENZINA is here for you, from the ground up.

I hope to be able to show you more, as our ven­ture proceeds.

Spring is finally near­ing in Cal­gary. As the ground clears and the nights get warmer, my atten­tion typ­i­cally drifts to vin­tage Ves­pas and bikes that rat­tle and clat­ter and smoke, while my cloth­ing takes on the all too-​​familiar scent of Motul 800 two-​​stroke oil.

I’ll try not to neglect you, inter­net, but the sweet moun­tain air calls.

Two exam­ples of hand let­tered text in my neigh­bour­hood. What a dif­fer­ence a cen­tury can make.