>Well you know I moved here because uh... I moved here because, you know well I had to leave 1980s Japan, but I picked the Bay Area because uh.. because I always had a thing for boom towns with more money than sense you know? And when I got here I was like a kid in a candy store. If you got connections, no buchō, nothing to do... I started a shop, it got wild. I was selling road bikes every day. Always different ones Italian ones, French ones, British ones. Sometimes multiple road bikes a day I- I was out of control, I became insatiable, and uh... you know after about a thousand nights like that you start to lose it.
>I started to wonder where am I going with this? Why do I feel this need to sell all these road bikes to weekend warriors? What is desire? The form of these skinnyfat guys on bikes: why does it have such a grip on me? Because it's the opposite of me? Is it going to complete me in some way? I realized that I could sell a million racing bikes I'd still never be satisfied. Maybe, maybe what I really want is to be one of these rubes who can barely work a derailleur. You know? No really. So... one night I took home a bike, turned out to be a step-thru which I'd done before but this time instead of selling to a Dev Ops guy, I rode it. And it was kind of magical and I got in my head what I really wanted was to be one of these tech bros getting fucked by me and to feel that.
>So I put out an ad looking for a white guy my age to come over and buy my lady's bike and that guy looked a lot like me. Then I put on jeans and a hoodie, made myself... look like one of these retards.... I thought I looked pretty dumb. And then this clown came over and paid me $5000, then I got addicted to that, some days three, four guys would come over and buy them at $5000 each. Some I even got on a waitlist, and at the same time I'd just quit working... just sit and watch the whole thing. I'd look in his eyes while taking his credit card and think.. 'I am him and I'm fucking me'
