The exact moment a frame decides what it wants to be

It was 10:47 a.m., the shop was quiet except for the hum of the lathe, and I was staring at a set of lugs I’d just brazed onto a steel fork crown. For three hours I’d been fighting the alignment—too much heat, too little patience—but then, suddenly, the metal cooled and settled into place like it had been waiting all along. Not perfect, but right. Like the bike knew its own shape before I did. That’s the thing about building frames: you’re not forcing them into being. You’re just learning how to get out of the way.