the daily snivel
If it were a horse, I'd shoot it.
Says Rob the vegetarian, who wouldn't really hurt a horse no matter how lame it was. But still, you get the Western analogy.
Nevertheless, my bicycle has been causing me great aggravation this summer, and costing me money to the point where I probably could have purchased a new one and left the old fella out to pasture with a sign that says "steal me" (or as my sister's boyfriend discovered last year, leave it on the balcony of my third floor apartment in Toronto, where the bike thieves are even more a clever a gang of rascals as its legendary raccoons). On the way home the other day, I heard a "ping!" and felt my rear wheel start to wobble madly. I was just able to get it home, but discovered that two spokes had snapped.
It's back on the road now, thankfully only after spending $12 on some new spokes, but I actually spent $80 on a new wheel just a month ago, and it's only a matter of time before I have to bring it in for a $90 procedure to get the gears replaced. Granted, after five years of almost daily rides from April to November, I'm willing to accept that there's going to be wear and tear (like the brake pads I've had to replace), and the fact that my chain skips. But it's been in the shop three to four times each summer for the past three years, which boils down to a lot of time off the road. The guy at the bike shop suggested I now buy a hand-made wheel from him, given the problems we've had back there and the fact that there's no warranty on factory-built wheels.
I think the bike is cursed. At the very least we have a turbulent and Harlequin-esque relationship (you know the formula: "He's so brash and arrogant! I feel nothing for him! And yet..."). I rant and rave like a madman about it when something goes wrong, and pine like a jilted lover when I can't ride it and am forced to take the hated bus. There's nothing quite so frustrating as being stuck in traffic on a hot, crowded, humid bus that is crowded past the point of "standing room only" and moved on to "where do you think you're putting that crotch?" while you watch carefree cyclists roll on by, generally getting wherever they're going faster than you do. When you're traveling downtown, a bicycle is simply the best way to get around. And yet... and yet... I can't help but wonder what new technical difficulties will surprise me on some trip in the not-too-distant future. So far we've gone through blowouts, broken spokes, chewed up tires, bad bearings, clicking pedals, and broken cables together. It's a rocky love affair, me and my shiny red bicycle, but at least it's never thrown me.
Comments:Nevertheless, my bicycle has been causing me great aggravation this summer, and costing me money to the point where I probably could have purchased a new one and left the old fella out to pasture with a sign that says "steal me" (or as my sister's boyfriend discovered last year, leave it on the balcony of my third floor apartment in Toronto, where the bike thieves are even more a clever a gang of rascals as its legendary raccoons). On the way home the other day, I heard a "ping!" and felt my rear wheel start to wobble madly. I was just able to get it home, but discovered that two spokes had snapped.
It's back on the road now, thankfully only after spending $12 on some new spokes, but I actually spent $80 on a new wheel just a month ago, and it's only a matter of time before I have to bring it in for a $90 procedure to get the gears replaced. Granted, after five years of almost daily rides from April to November, I'm willing to accept that there's going to be wear and tear (like the brake pads I've had to replace), and the fact that my chain skips. But it's been in the shop three to four times each summer for the past three years, which boils down to a lot of time off the road. The guy at the bike shop suggested I now buy a hand-made wheel from him, given the problems we've had back there and the fact that there's no warranty on factory-built wheels.
I think the bike is cursed. At the very least we have a turbulent and Harlequin-esque relationship (you know the formula: "He's so brash and arrogant! I feel nothing for him! And yet..."). I rant and rave like a madman about it when something goes wrong, and pine like a jilted lover when I can't ride it and am forced to take the hated bus. There's nothing quite so frustrating as being stuck in traffic on a hot, crowded, humid bus that is crowded past the point of "standing room only" and moved on to "where do you think you're putting that crotch?" while you watch carefree cyclists roll on by, generally getting wherever they're going faster than you do. When you're traveling downtown, a bicycle is simply the best way to get around. And yet... and yet... I can't help but wonder what new technical difficulties will surprise me on some trip in the not-too-distant future. So far we've gone through blowouts, broken spokes, chewed up tires, bad bearings, clicking pedals, and broken cables together. It's a rocky love affair, me and my shiny red bicycle, but at least it's never thrown me.
