Twenty-five years ago, you may recall, there was no Internet, no e-mail, no computer-rendered drawings of new machines that might be in the works...and no real expectation that anything terribly exciting was. In those ancient springtimes-when life ran at a slower pace and the adults were in charge-glossy, rolled-up copies of Cycle World, Cycle (and a bunch of other bike magazines if you wanted them) leaptrnfrom the mailbox like Ed McMahon with a big cardboard check. In the backward interior provinces, it was as if the Hubble tele-scope was out there snail-mailing back nude pictures of the Venusian natives, especially when the March, 1984, issue showed up in the middle of a dirty-snow-encrusted February.
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