Don't Try This At Home

Alternate Title I: My Very Own Stupid People Trick
Alternate Title II: Life Is A Game Of Inches

Couple-a weeks ago, I did part of the ride with John and Jason. When I started, there was a small bottom bracket creak that had been lingering for a few days. I was trying to ignore it, because I pride myself on that particular skill. But by the time I got home it was a full-on in my face. I had to get on a plane in a couple-a hours, so there was nothing I could do. I was once again free to ignore it. Yay. But then my flight got cancelled. Couldn't fly out until the next day.

Since it was total bonus time, Patty and I took the opportunity to grab a bite at Madelaine's and a movie at RP Square. It really was a nice afternoon. But it would have been even more relaxing if it wasn't for that blankety creak. Couldn't stop thinking about it, because I knew that when I returned from my trip, I was facing the midnight century, which I held out some hope of riding. So the bike had to be right. I tried not to let it show, but I was desperately scheming up an excuse to get down to Wheelsport, with hopes that one of the mechanics there would recognize my situation as dire, drop all the important stuff they were doing and solve my sad little problem for me.

So just before closing time, I had the opportunity I had been waiting for (and downplaying). I nonchalantly loaded my bike on the roof rack, nonchalantly pulled out of the driveway and onto 25th, nonchalantly hung a right on Browne, and then . . . as soon as I was out of sight of the house, I drove that MF gas pedal right through the floor!!! Gotta get to Wheelsport. Luckily there is a bike lane on 29th that I could use as a passing lane! (Just kidding, of course, but don't think I didn't consider it!)

So anyway, I got to Wheelsport on time, and those fine gents fixed me up, as they always do. And since I was hanging around in a bike shop, I took the opportunity to find more stuff that I never really knew I needed. Yes, that's how it works. 5 bucks worth of repair later (yes, you heard me right) and another $30 in merchandise, and I was on my way home. The story would probably have had a happy and uneventful ending if I hadn't decided I needed to celebrate my wildly-successful deceptive little scheme with a half-rack of Corona Light.

I'm positive you already know this, but if it's Corona Light you have to have, the only place to get it is at Rite-Aid. $11.99. Give me a break! At Super One, it's $15.99, ON SALE!

And as I headed my exuberant and prideful self from Rite-Aid down through the underpass in front of Gottschalks, I heard a "ding".

The sound was totally out of place. So I stopped in front of the Pear Tree. It was at this point that I head-slappingly realized I had just tried to cram a 9'-5-1/2" bike-truck combo



through a 9'-5" hole.



I hadn't felt a thing, but apparently the impact had been severe enough to ring my bar-end bell. Fortunately, I dodged a bullet. The brake lever is scraped up . . .


but everything functions.

I sanded it down, and now it's a pretty cool scar.


Whew. I am one lucky SOB. I'm in some sort of karma deficit state now, which is not comfortable, but it sure beats a mangled bike.