Work's been crushing my ass, which leaves me in survival mode with little desire to bike blog. But that sucks, because it severs my vital connection with you, my fellow freak. So I'm breaking the surface just long enough to say hey and grab some air and then I guess I'll be going back under for I hope not too long.
But despite the silence, I haven't gone totally bike-dead. Bike shit is always happening and is in fact my escape and what keeps me sane. To wit:
Monday night is a standing weekly visit with my parents - I show up at my Mom's nursing home just north of the Y and bring some dinner for me and my Dad (Mom eats the NH food) and we all have a meal together. It's a along way from home on the s hill to my work out past industrial park to the northside and then back home, so I normally drive. But during seven carless days a few weeks ago, I needed to bike. The food plan for me and Dad that night was Wendy's at the Y, since it's close. I got there late and just wanted to grab some food in a hurry and book over to the NH, so I decided to bike through the drive-through.
The sensor doesn't pick up my bike and I'm just sitting there, so I finally pedal up to the window. I get an amused reaction, but not the "we're laughing with you" kind. I place my order. I hand her a $20. Window closes. Long wait. Window opens. She hands me my $20 back and says they can't serve me in the drive through and that I havta go inside. I park my bike, lock it, pull out my wallet, phone . . all the shit I was trying to avoid. Once inside, I have to take a spot at the end of the line and wait my turn. Are you kidding me. I finally get to the front, pissed as hell. Anyone/everyone in the kitchen who had anything to do with telling me I had to come inside is making themselves scarce and I'm not about to take it out on the 16 YO cashier who, after I ask how to get a hold of the manager, is begging me not to mention her name when I call. For some reason, they can't ring my order up on the front register since I originally came through the drive-through and there's a bunch of chaos and delay and people in line behind me are getting pissed at the douchebag with the bike helmet who's messing up the flow. All in all, a stupid humiliating experience. Yay Wendys. If Dave was still alive, this kind of shit would never happen. If Wendy wasn't so busy sucking on a golden spoon, she would step up and take charge and this shit would never happen. But neither of those things is happening, so this shit is happening. Only good thing I can find out of all this is the clouds. Pretty cool.
I didn't call, but I did google "bikes in drive thru" and it looks like there's a bunch of antecdotes out there about refusal of service and corporate speak about safety-driven policy regarding [gasp!] having bikes and cars in the same space. Whatever. Lame, lame, lame.
On the lighter, less ranty side, I've been messing with my first set of metal fenders, a pair of Velo Orange stainless jobs.
They come with a boatload of hardware, which even if the fenders are junk, I can totally use which is just so rad.
I have seen great fenderlines like this, and they're what I aspire to and let me tell you they are not easy to come by, but let me also tell you how the challenge totally disengages my head from work. Yes.
With that, I consider myself having checked in. I doubt that you feel any better, but I sure do. Okay then, hopefully talk to you soon.