Coupla months ago, I ran across a really good deal on Craigslist - on a time trial bike. I need to state for the record that I wasn't actively shopping for a bike. (Please back me up on this if you see my wife.) I didn't want to be hanging out in the bike section of CL. But since I was already there, it wasn't like I could ignore the ad - I've invested a lot of time and energy in my promising racing career over the last two months, and I don't think it's right that one relatively inexpensive piece of used equipment should be holding me back from realizing my full potential.
So anyway, I offered the guy just a little more than he was asking, and the bike was mine. It wasn't until I was just about home that panic struck. I didn't have anywhere to hide it. I tore my garage down last fall, and there was no place in the house that Patty wouldn't see it. Holy krap, I was toast! But then I remembered that I had forgotten that we are renting a storage container . . . that she never opens! Whoa, that was a close call.
For quite a while, I've been visiting my Secret Bike when I can, always in the dark secrecy of the cold winter nights. I've leaned it lovingly against the ladder, just behind the table saw.
With the Frozen Flatlands time trial less than a month away, something had to give. Tonight, after weeks of tormenting guilt, I finally came clean. I explained the many reasons that buying this bike made so much sense. She thought for just a minute and then calmy said, "Well then we'll have to get rid of one of your other bikes. You have too many already." This is not what I wanted to hear - I've assembled this collection with great deliberation.
My plan is to stall as long as possible. If we can just get past this, everything will be okay. Because I am certain that this is the last bike I will ever need.
On the one hand, I feel so relieved. On the other, I can't seem to relax. I need to figure out how to explain my new Secret Helmet before UPS delivers it next week.