Dark greasy hands and light airy dreams

We came together late last night, old when-we-have-the-time friends drawn together towards fresh common ground. Over Fishtale Ales and with Fishtale's pallet-jack we hauled the hulking behemoth out of its dark corner, last year's dust thick in our lungs. Over the next several hours we assembled her, engaging the flywheel and hammering the old pin into place, making sure the teeth of the gears align, hooking the bar over the axel, attaching the ink rollers and then spinning and spinning and pedaling with joyful exuberance, the little counter slowly tick-ticking away as the ink disc makes its slow rotation. Then it was on to the bars until last call to talk about a name, which I believe we have come up with (at least tentatively). Ahhh, what happens to a dream deferred? It learns patience and then it comes back kickin'.