Catching Big Air in Flatland

My obsession with old bicycle posters started with those frameable vintage photographs from the Tour de France — back when racers had to carry their own tires and forge their own forks and they had cigarettes and seltzer at the feeding zone — and came full circle with the new line of Californian wines like Cycles Gladiator.

But today, I noticed an antiques dealer who is offering this sweet item from a 1931 magazine:

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To think I was always saving pennies for a spy camera or a hovercraft, when a quarter would have gotten me off the ground! Course, I don’t believe there was a Glide-O-Bike Airport in my region.

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