until you don't!

"...leaving behind only a glass slipper"

That moment when you get to where you parked your bike, and you find not a coffee cup in your basket, or a bell or a seat missing, or a nasty note attached. No, you find just an empty pole.

You wonder for at first, as one does, whether you forgot you parked it somewhere else. You hope. But it only takes a second for your mind to click into the proper memory, and when you go to take a closer look at the crime scene, still thinking that by the time you get there, you'll spot it somewhere close-by, or you find some kind of clue to a practical joke, you notice all that's left of your bike is a silk flower lying pathetically up-side-down on the ground, not nearly as pretty as it looked on the bike. Left there, just as if to confirm. A kind gesture from the thief to save you the trouble of wondering.

He must have been attracted by the dazzling sight of the brand new transmission. I didn't even get a chance to admire it yet. Had a fun time getting a tune-up just earlier this week at MEC. They couldn't get their information straight, and in the end I paid less than expected, and wasn't really sure what got done and what didn't. Waited a week for my appointment with a mechanic there.

When's a less busy time I asked on the way out. Winter, he said. I'll see you in winter! I would never get caught needing a tune-up between April and October again. But the trouble was worth it because this week my princess ran like a dream!

Now i don't know where she is. What she is. Probably parts.  Ironically, last week, one morning i found I'd forgotten to lock her!

I blame myself, as one does, for not using more or better locks, for not taking my baby to the dark damp basement garage every night. I'm sure to hear about it - go on, get it off your chest, mom, you get ONCE!


Everyone loses a bike. It's a city rite of passage. It's the cost of riding. You can take measures to minimize the chances, but you can't park underground everywhere you go.  Not until you move to Japan!  And every lock is breakable. If they want your bike they'll have your bike.

So you must make them not want it! Every loose and pretty bit must be wired down, duct taped, or cosmetically vandalized. I had flowers everywhere, convinced that no person with any business sense would find it worth the effort to remove all the tape and wire, but i got sloppy. I should have taken the time to deface those shiny new

inhabitat.com

cogs and chain.  I should have put more spray paint on them, and the wheels, and the seat stem, the seat, the chain, everything!

Whatever you do, you can think you're doing everything right. No, no. You've just been lucky. It was my turn.

The girl and I, and her Supercycle seat with seams that collect water, that stains my pants for days after it rains, we had a good run. 

So, celebrate that you find your bike where you left it, until you don't.  Then go and find a new one.

Bye-bye, pretty bike! I'll miss you. I'll miss how easily we went up every hill. I'll miss the way you made old ladies smile. Maybe someone else gets to love you now. Forget about your evil middle man. Girl, you have some stories to tell!

one ride at a time

a lovely note found on my bike

when you pick up your bike where you parked it, don’t get mad if you find someone else's bike leaning on yours and you wish you had 3 arms to dislodge them from each other while keeping them both from falling over.

don’t worry that your seat is wet, and that you forgot to bring a towel or a plastic bag. don’t moan because some litter bug thought putting their empty coffee cup into your basket wasn’t actually littering. don’t lament the bell someone stole just because they liked it. don’t dismay because someone locked their bike to your brake cable, and you now need to dismantle it before you can leave.

don't get angry because you find a threatening note clipped to your lock, because someone felt you parked too close to a community garden.

no!

CELEBRATE, that you find your bike where you left it, with no major parts missing and that you get to ride it yet another time!

let's get something straight

www.rgbstock.com

that narrow lane between the road and the sidewalk, the one with a picture of a  bicycle on it, that's a bike path. definition: a path or part of a road marked off or separated for the use of bicyclists.

a bike path is not:

a shoulder: the strip of unpaved land that borders a road, often used for pulling over and stopping and texting your girlfriend. i will forgive you if you're changing a tire or setting off flares.

a right-turn lane: lane used to provide space for deceleration and storage of turning vehicles.  maybe you've noticed:  you don't fit!

a taxi bay: an area intended for taxis to line up and wait for fares.

an extension of the side walk: a hard-surfaced path for pedestrians alongside and a little higher than a road.  no, it's not a good idea to just step off the curb into my special bicycle area without looking, to get around a bottleneck in your special pedestrian area.

a loading zone: a stop where carriers can be loaded and unloaded and where you wait for your hubby to come back with your tim horton's order.

a parking lot: a cleared area that is intended for parking vehicles - where you temporarily abandon your two ton waste of space because you have to leave it somewhere while you shop, until scientists design one that will fold up and fit into your napsack.

string of curses

after a fairly nice may afternoon the weather changed considerably. by 8pm the temperature had dropped by almost 10 degrees, it was threatening to rain and i was not pleased. on my way home from work here's what my thoughts might have sounded like: 

omg why is it so cold out here  really should have worn longjohns  these shoes are killing me  that bike better not be locked to mine  shit why can’t i get the key out of the lock  why would you lock your bike so it has to be peeled off and then kept from falling    woah that wind is ripping my ears off  now my earring's tangled up in my scarf why am i even still wearing a scarf  ok what are you doing tell me what you're doing!  sure let’s say good-bye right in the middle of the road  at least it’s not raining cold and raining it’s coming up to june for pete’s sake nice outfit yup you’re freezing your ankles and toes off     oh here comes the rain almost made it damn where’s my lock not going back now use the back-up maybe find it tomorrow   really can’t wear these shoes anymore  jeeze why is it so hot in here

(also some of it may have been said aloud...)

rolling again!

shiny new valve

rode to work today.  yes, on my bike.  that i fixed. by myself. i rode gingerly. afraid to go over bumps, afraid to change gears. 

this morning i finally had that thank you meal with R - you know, the guy who was right about my keys returning once we cut off the lock, ...ok, HE cut off the lock, i watched.  i'm glad i was clever enough to arrange it so that i could reward myself for his efforts by getting to spend even more time with him and call it "buying him breakfast".

i wasn't going to bring up the bike, because he's a bit of a compulsive helper, but he said: "so, how's it going?"  what am i gonna do, lie?  so, i spilled and i learned that i can use the wrong valve, it's a matter of sticking a smaller object through a larger hole.  the opposite would have been a problem.  that's good news!

quickly resuming bike-unrelated topics we enjoyed our breakfast and an awesome chat.  then i rushed home to try to finish my project and get the bike out of my livingroom!


reassembly started off promising.  i followed the youtube instructions for getting the tire on the wheel and the inner tube inside, it was pretty easy.  later, temples sweaty from pumping air past the valve for a good 5 minutes before i realized what i was doing, i noticed that just by chance i'd put the tire on the correct way!  encouraged by my good fortune i barreled on and wondered:  how far down should i push the axle in the slots?  is it even?  how far can i adjust the fender to give the tire enough room?  did i tighten the nuts enough? how many times can i wash this dirt off my hands before i scrub the skin right through?

finally i was sure there was no chafing and the wheel was happily spinning in place with a minimum of wobble.  any good teacher would have said:  "great!  now take it off and do it again."  luckily, i didn't need a teacher, my chain told me!  it was all bunched up on one side of the nut.  i couldn't be lucky twice.

i looked up the derailleur configuration online.  undid the tire, slung the chain in the right spot and remounted the tire.  but then the chain kept falling off.  it got stuck in the tiny gap between the front gear and the body, and i wondered how it even got in there?  that's when i nearly cried.   so close now!  what if i break the chain?  but i kept fiddling with it and just as mysteriously it slipped back out.  and i didn't break the chain.  and with my fingers covered up to my palms in black grime i realized, i fixed my own flat today! 

i wanted a decent tread, but all they had was mountain bike tires, so it vibrates a little on the street.  but otherwise, i felt pretty pleased with myself when i actually arrived at work and nothing had fallen off.  on my lunch hour i went to see if the tire was still inflated.  yup. it feels good to know how to do it, and it was an important experience for reaching a deeper understanding, but i don't like it.  it's messy.  and finicky.  and it's confusing!  the sizes!  what's 700 even mean?  700 whats?  and what about this strange hybrid of metric and imperial measurement?  1.9?  well, it's bigger than 2 centimetres!  so, since when do we break down inches into decimals?

next time i have a flat, the fairweather cyclists will all have had their fairweather work done, and i'll just drop into my shop and whine:  "fix eeeeet!... and throw in a tuneup, pleeeze", and grin.

i have the money, why should i torture myself?

first attempt

chaos in my living room

since my tire exploded last week, i went to three different stores to find a replacement close enough to what i want. tonight i came home equipped with one new tire from MEC, one of those hook thingies you need to get the old tire off, and an inner tube that will fit, as opposed to the 700 x skinny one my regular mechanic sold me. ...sigh, i thought he knew us. and so did he.

the whole walk home i was worried about the extra point two increments the tire was wider than the 1.9 whatevers of the original one. the guy at MEC told me it shouldn’t be a problem, but i forgot to tell him my bike had fenders.  he also asked me what kind of valve it used.  he showed me the two different types.

i’ve seen a youtube video on how to change a rear tire.  i know the guy makes it look easy, and i know that i need a wrench or two to remove a wheel that isn’t quick release. i was ready to get dirty!

i thought it would be a good idea to take my special virgin project to my apartment.  it was getting dark, i wouldn’t have much time to do it in the morning, and i’m tired of walking!  i could watch television while changing a tire - how cool!  and  in case of reassembly disaster it could all stay sprawled out where it wants until i call for backup or try again another day.

crankiness already set in before i even unlocked the bike, when i tried to decide if i should go upstairs and drop off my luggage first, and come back for the bike, or if i should save a trip and get it all up at once. having chosen option two, there's me trying to lift the bike around the corners of the wheelchair/stroller ramp cluttered with apartment building sized recycle bins on their way to the curb, my basket heavy with my napsack, and the new tire slipping off my shoulder at every step.  the tire didn’t do much better slung around the handlebar as  i scrambled out of the elevator, and scrape-clunk-scrape-clunked my poor flat down the hall to my apartment and sqeezed in through the narrow vestibule.

i turned the dirty monster upside down in my living room.  i did have the presence of angry mind to spread a blanket under the whole mess to spare the beige carpet, before getting out the wrench.

i got  a good amount of weather hardened grease under my fingernails, while trying to get untangled from the chain. how DOES a chain wind around the derailleur? there's another youtube search for later. but taking off the tire was pretty easy, once i remembered to undo the brake.

when i realized the tire might fit into the fender, but i definitely chose the wrong valve, i just washed my hands again with dishsoap to try to get the smell of rubber off, and had some vodka. what’s another few days of walking and taking the streetcar?

on foot

cracked from winter riding

yesterday, as i was leaving for work, not 20 yards from home i heard a big pop, and a huge shriek.  the shriek was me.  the pop was my rear tire exploding.  my bike is now locked up outside my home with a flat.  a truly sad sight.  and scary.  a slightly wounded bicycle always seems an invitation to pilfer.

i called my bike shop in the afternoon, the manager said, "no, it shouldn't take long to fix".  i said, "how's it look for tomorrow"  he put me through to the mechanic.  "what kind of bike do you have?"  asked the mechanic.  he recognizes me, i've been there with many a flat.  "hold on" he said. minutes later i found myself back on the line with the store manager who told me they are full up for the week.  an example of stellar customer service. the manager kept stammering variations on the same thing in order to avoid committing to any kind of alternate solution, "so, yeah, ..."  "probably not gonna be able to..."  "try back next week",  no waiting list, no appointment.  am i to pop in occasionally with my broken down vehicle on the off chance that now there's room for my bike to wait its turn?

today i dropped into the shop on my way to work to find out how it works.

i've been walking.  walking's fun once in a while, especially in this weather - once you accept the sheer lack of speed.  you see stuff.  you get less stressed.  you're unencumbered.  you can pop into a shop without effort.  you can amble like pedestrians do.  pedestrians are so pathetically unaware of their surroundings.  it's a fun exercise.

i went downstairs straight to where the mechanic hangs out and does his magic.  i asked him what the procedure was for getting in line for repair.   he knows my bike.  he handed me an inner tube and said he'd go and get the manager, then he disappeared up the stairs.  i followed him.  "he's just in the bathroom"  i paid for my inner tube.  i now own an inner tube.

the manager said, "i have no idea if he takes appointments, that's up to the mechanic.  go ask him"  after i briefly explained about the impending runaround, he marched right down to the evasive mechanic and came back 5 minutes later saying he'd just talked to the owner on the phone.  their other location could take me right now and fix it while i wait!

how nice!  i was on my way to work.  on foot.  no, he wouldn't be there tomorrow.

it's time to stop being such a little princess and learn how to fix the fucking thing myself!