UNDER CONSTRUCTION
★ Welcome to the official retro web home of Phi & Psi! Strap on your helmets, oil your chains, and enjoy the ride. ★

Welcome, Traveler!

Newsflash: Phi found a mysterious sprocket by the riverside. Psi swears it hums in prime numbers. More details soon…

Prologue

It began on a soft morning when the city still yawned. Phi tightened a bolt; Psi mapped a route that looked a little like a lemniscate. Tires whispered. Kites tilted. Somewhere, a bell chimed a perfect fifth.

They pedaled past tea-colored canals and neon postboxes, chasing the breeze that smelled faintly of graphite and marmalade. Legend said that if you circled the Old Clock Tower exactly eight times without stopping, your bicycle would remember the way home even in the dark.

Chapter 1: The Gear with No Teeth

On the outskirts stood a workshop that sold impossible parts: squared wheels for cobblestone jazz, derailers that only shifted on Tuesdays, a bell that rang in Morse. The keeper spoke in spokes. "Some paths are gears," he said, "and some are grease. Be both."

Phi practiced track stands until shadows grew long; Psi counted telephone poles like metronomes. A stray cat joined their convoy and refused to draft. The horizon unspooled like cassette tape.

Bike Log

  • Day 01 — 17 km — Tailwind, plum clouds, two friendly crows.
  • Day 02 — 41 km — Unscheduled detour to chase a rumor about a whispering bridge.
  • Day 03 — 0 km — Rain day. Tuned chains and told tall tales.
  • Day 04 — 28 km — Found a shortcut that was longer but happier.
  • Day 05 — 63 km — Psi spotted a sign that only appears at dusk.

Guestbook

Sign our imaginary guestbook by shouting into a headwind and thinking nice thoughts, or actually email us:

✉️ phi.psi.bikes@example.com

(A real guestbook form can go here later. Frames optional.)