I've been totally slammed with this project at work that's making me work a bazillion hours and making me a stranger to sleep and to my wife. My dog barks at me when I get home now.
And whenever this crazy work shit happens, I hate it, and cycling thoughts are my self-preservation mechanism. And when cycling thoughts are my self-preservation mechanism, I usually get carried away. Crazy stuff, man.
Here's what I mean. To keep myself sane this week, I hatched this plan. It's about next winter, because you have to start thinking about how you're gonna survive it now, when the weather's good, and you have some perspective.
The loose plan is to hop aboard my folder in late February, ride it down to the bus or train station (TBD, plane maybe, or even hitchhiking???), get on board and ride to Seattle, get off, ride down to the waterfront, get on a ferry, ride CBC's Chilly Hilly with a few thousand other people who are sick of winter, eat some chili, ride the ferry back to Seattle, ride back to a bus or train station (TBD), get on board with my folder and ride to Spokane, get off, and ride up the south hill and sleep for a couple of days or weeks. Maybe there's an overnight in Seattle at a relative's house in there (TBD). If so, I'll have to ride there. No car time allowed on this trip, or I'll consider it a failure. Oh yeah, I also have to carry everything I need for the trip. In February.
(Note: I'm still considering the bus as an option, even though the events of this past week are freaking me out a little bit. If I do take the bus, I'm not sleeping. Guaran-frickin-teed.)
So bus ride aside, there are a lot of "challenges" with this plan, but the first big one that comes to mind is that I don't have a folder. And the plan pretty much falls apart without one.
So I'm saving all my allowance. I'm drinking Pabst. When I take Patty out to dinner, I pretend that I forgot my wallet. And a key part of my fundraising efforts involves the bike swap that's happening tomorrow.
I don't know where you keep your bike junk, but I keep mine in these plastic bins under the work bench.
And hanging from the ceiling.
And in the attic.
I went through it all, and sorted out some stuff I could live without. Not easy, because I have a lot of sketchy plans for a lot of different sketchy projects, and I can pretty much look at any part and envision some kind of need for it, at some point in the future. But I gotta generate some cash. So I generated this pile.
Should be good for oh, about 50 bucks. So I decided I need to toss these in.
So I'm up to $54. (You and I both know that people don't go to bike swaps to spend a bunch of money.)
Gotta get a little more serious. I think I can live without my commuter fixie, so it's going to auction, as well.
So I'm ready for the swap. All I have to do is buy less than I sell, and bank the proceeds before I squander them. I can do this. Past experience would indicate otherwise. But I know I can do this.
It's a good plan, but alas, plans change.
Because I got the phone call that I hoped I would get. I can't talk about this call because even though I'm not even a little bit superstitious, I can't take even the slightest chance, because there's no way I can jinx this or I'll have to murder myself. So I'll have to tell you tomorrow.
Have fun at the swap. Wish I could be there, but this other deal trumps.