No sun? Yes people!

August 12, 2011

I shan't forget the day for some time. 'Twas the ninth day of August and the temperatures had taken an icy plunge into the lower 80s as I began bicycling off towards the garage to retrieve my manly Metro. Little did I know, as I began my voyage, that it was to be as memorable as the ending of the film Amelia (about Amelia Earhart), which is to say - fairly memorable.

The streets, sidewalks, stoops and driveways were teeming with fellow hominids out and about, luxuriating and/or cavorting in the dearth of sunshine and cooler temperatures. A slender woman strode purposefully down the sidewalk while boldly hefting dumbells aloft, as if mightily cheering the amiable climate for its graciousness. I beheld a youngish, fatherly man, slowly rotating what appeared to be an entire bicycle tyre, still attached to the rim, through a cooler (presumably filled with water and one fat tire, nyuck, nyuck). Two daughterly girls looked on trustingly at this activity, and I was somewhat startled by this seemingly misguided attempt to locate a slow leak in a tyre tube. But perhaps this was one of those new-fangled "tubeless" bicycle tyres. Or perchance he was attempting to condense the air in the tube so that he could fit more air inside in order to decrease rolling resistance for an upcoming bombing of the neighborhood hills with his family. Cheerio, bewildering chap! Good show. Jolly good and all that... my mumbling gradually trailed off, per usual.

Up the neighboorhood hill I encountered a trio of helmet-wearing bicyclists. It was a thing of infrequently, nay, I shall be so bold as to say - unsurpassed beauty, and, 'twer I an artist, I would have unburdened my rucksack of its oils, brushes, mineral spirits and tautly stretched and gessoed canvas to painstakingly render a work entitled Helmeted Mother and Helmeted Child (2). I pedaled onward with a heart full of joy.

After floating downhill upon a veritable avalanche of goodwill, I passed two adolescent pedestrians before stopping at chatty corner.

The intersection at chatty corner (or XCC as I often think of it) was delightfully deluged with pedestrians (3) and bicyclists (2). "Great Gatsbies!" I exclaimed, overwhelmed. As my two newfound pedestrian acquaintances reached the northeast island of XCC, I excitedly snapped photo after photo of this unexpected profusion of self-propelled traffic.

As the two pedestrians bickered about when and/or if the pedestrian signal would beckon us to safety upon yonder shore, I assured them of our destiny. "Soon." I pontificated knowingly, "soon." We received the signal and one of them bolted. "Run for your lives!" I exhorted them as I sped onwards. My head was spinning at the sheer volume of human interaction I had endured upon this, the unseasonably mild, ninth day of August!

Another teenaged pedestrian, with a "too-cool-for-school" (too bad it starts this week, though, sucker - haha) aura, ambled nonchalantly along on a trajectory that nearly intersected mine.

Finally I reached my destination and retrieved my might Metro-polis of steel. Incidentally, as I may have mentioned in a previous post, the Metro may (and by "may" I mean "won't") be traded for a tour-ready (doesn't need to be immediately ready...maybe in 10 years or so...) road bicycle/penny-farthing, preferably with disc brakes. In order to "sweeten" the pot on this impending trade, I am now prepared to allow and insist that the person with whom I consummate this transaction also accept ownership of what has been "crammed in the boot" of my motorized vehicle of conveyance. Here are a few possibilities. Could this alleged junk in the trunk consist of -
a) a mobile compost pile
b) 13 used 26" bicycle tyres and accessories
c) a slightly decomposed household pet that I've not yet worked up the nerve to return to its owner (what? it's in a bag, don't be gross!)
d) 30 - 22 oz. bottles of my home-brewed ginger beer, or
e) a large, and genly used, collection of classic 80s porn/albums/uniforms
?????

Not that it's of any interest to anyone.......(that means you copper!)

On my way home, with the Old Bastard dismantled and all aboard, I spied a bicycle commuter on the corner who looked like this.

Although the statuesque Adonis astride geometric shapes of various sizes and substances may seem to possess a physique that is unattainable to us mere mortals, just hop on a bicycle, grab some sweet-ass shades and a sleeveless shirt and start pedaling. You might just surprise yourself!

Maintenance corner with the Snot -

I noticed my front tyre had a spot that looked like the basketballs of my youth before developing a goiter-like bulge.

 Since I had an unused, white-walled tyre in my garage cupboard, I quickly grabbed a plastic tyre-lever, removed the old tyre and partially installed the new, before I snapped the lever. I grabbed another lever to finish the job and made a mental note to get some more tyre-levers.

Postscript: As you might have surmised by the quaintly antiquated verbiage of this post, it was written with pen and ink at my window-side desk as I lounged about insouciantly in my tweed smoking jacket during my working holiday in the rather drastic locale known as Wichita.