DAY EIGHT: THE WANDERING MARINERThe rhythm of the pounding sea rocked the massive boat, enveloped by the enormity of the Pacific Ocean in the pitch of night. The 141,000-ton ship was in the midst of a six-week transit from Singapore, and one of its engineers was in his bunk, longing for a different kind of rhythm. The monotonous, metronomic spin of cranks, hum of tires, of crisp winter air nipping at his bare nose. He missed the suffering, the solitude, the journey. He missed the occasional tests for elevated benzene levels in his blood. He quit, moved to San Francisco, and ordered a Baum Corretto. Day Eight's candidate for the Twelve Days of Breathtaking Builds is his respite. Painted like the varying moods and shades of the great abyss, it evokes the deep, azure, ever-shifting temperment of the sea. An anchor at the base of the seat tube is a memento to the rider's lifelong marriage to the water, even as he chases his passion on land. It's the terra firma escape of the wandering mariner.
Silver and grey tones pepper the blues like whitecaps on the thundering waves, accented by inky blackness in the bike's wheels and cockpit; the mysterious deep.