The man that CANNOT bend THAT to his will DISGRACES the uniform and should turn in his Plus Fours and Club Tie. Why the VERY NAMES of today's versions are tantamount to admissions of INFERIORITY! MUSTACHE(!) SHORT and SHALLOW, and perhaps the most DAMNING, the NOODLE(?!).
Imagine(If you CAN) the advantage bestowed upon he, OR SHE(INDEED, in this land there were once woolen clad TIGRESS' loose on 2 wheels!(NO MORE I FEAR)), who could with the flick of the wrist, tame 36 inches of 7/8" COLD ROLLED AMERICAN STEEL!!! You desire a wide grip to allow great gulps of LIFE GIVING oxygen(of which the article of my day was DEMONSTRABLY denser and more fortified with healthful coal spirits and stimulating nicotine than the vapid vapor of our degenerate day)? merely spread your tiller as broad as you desire! Feel the urge to draw ones hands behind ones knees for an efficient STREAMLINED TUCK? Gracefully sweep your hands to the desired position and the DEED is done! However,I suspect the MAN(pardon, PERSON) under 65 years of age capable of this once common feat DOES NOT EXIST!!!!! INCONCEIVABLE now, but in that BRAVE bygone epoch one simply drew(by MAIN strength and UNYIELDING force) the instrument, ON THE FLY(!!!), to whatever shape best accommodated the task at hand!! Many's the hearty lad I recall climbing some lofty spire, forearms like GREAT STRAINING HAWSERS, eyes bulging from a sweat-streaked CRIMSON visage as the groaning handlebar quivered and yielded to the grip of it's determined MASTER!!! Why the PATHETIC POSING PERAMBULATORS of today scurry to the local cycle factors at the merest HINT of a deformed bar for a REPLACEMENT rather than HEAVE the wayward fitting back into whatever faddish twist is the style of the moment!!!.! It strains CREDULITY!!! One is forced to ask,"What does the Wheelman of today do", for example, when a saddle adjustment is required when he is a league or two from his kit and finds himself unarmed with the appropriate spanner? Does he mooch a lift on a passing trolley or does he strike his leathern perch with his VERY FIST until it attains the desired altitude!!!? I wonder.
That's right! A full yard of solid WROUGHT IRON(!!!), arrow strait upon which fellows of GRIT braced their mighty efforts!!! Indeed it was a cherished rite of the new riding season each April 1st to wheel one's machine to the local SMITHY for a new "Grapple" (as it was known), before venturing forth into THE VERY TEETH of the refreshing SPRING GALE. When I was a boy(!), this was a NOBLE sport and handlebars were less handle and more bar. Mustache Handlebars?! GOOD LORD, HAVE WE SUNK SO FAR!!!