I wanted one of these for a long time. Words from the internet: if you lived in New England and someone told you they had a wicked fat chance, you'd know one of two things. Either they'd just figured their odds of winning the MegaBucks, or, being of a certain age and bicycle literate, they were talking about a mountain bike.
If you're too young to remember when men were rigid and so were their bikes, you might at this point be stifling a yawn. But understand that, among rigid folks, the Wicked is a contender for the accolade of the finest-handling, most intuitive, best-made, sweetest (and any other superlative you'd care to attribute) MTB ever.
In the '80s a guy named Chris Chance put together a little bicycle company near Boston called Fat City Cycles. Somehow, with the right combination of tube choice, frame angles, wheelbase and various mystical powders and incantations, he cranked out the Wicked Fat Chance. It was the perfect mountain bike.
I bought this straight outta Massachusetts from the ex-girlfriend of a former Fat City employee.
Repainted and draped with bling