While The Uncle is over here enjoying a corporate dental plan that apparently requires a three hour post-dentist cooling off period before returning to work, I have a much less picturesque “the ride that wasn’t” story to tell. (Which dental plan is that anyway?) Seriously, if you’d rather go look at some real nice pictures of places I like to ride than read this, now is the time. (You have to scroll down a little)
I went to bed stoked for the today’s ride home from work. I woke up stoked for today’s ride home from work. Why all the excitement? My city was scheduled to get its second bout of winter today. It was supposed to hit around 6pm…which I was figuring made the probability quite high for a ride home with snow falling and a dusting in the ground. And by that I mean, perfection.
I prepared and dressed for the -2 windchill. I went to the garage and grabbed the winter bike. And. I. Pulled. The. Brakes. The front one closed and snapped back with a tart, “I’m ready!” The rear one sleepily closed, stayed closed, and rolled over and went back to sleep, “Don’t bother me.”
Repair stand. Allen wrench. Molasses (well the can read lube but I’m not paying much attention to storage temperature guidelines). Towel. 30 minutes and a mini-brake overhaul later I had two working brake arms but I was much too late for work to ride. Besides, part of the problem was a rusty cable which would have required a brake adjustment…which is…well…I have friends for that sort of thing. So the bike went on the car and I went in the car and off we went to work and later The LBS.
And then it didn’t snow, so I could have ridden the other bike, the one with the gears and the slick tires.
I let one get away today.