Hot and sweaty, Wreck-Free Sunday

I just got back from doing a “house call” to get a church member’s bike road ready that she bought at a yard sale for $5. That bike was a horror story. No kidding, that bike could never have been ridden since it was first purchased, because it was never assembled right. The brakes were not hooked up correctly, the shifters were out of adjustment and the limit screws on the derailler were both set wrong, but the most frightening things were the headset and the crank bearings. The crank bearings were finger-tight, and the headset adjusting race was not even finger tight, the tabbed washer was jammed on the top of the fork, and the lock nut was sitting loose on the top of the tabbed washer. Basically the only thing holding the fork on was gravity and wishful thinking. So the person from church is going to pick me up again tomorrow so I can bring my tools and get this bike safe.

Something interesting that happened this week is a woman stopped me in the grocery store while I was picking out yogurt and told me I was “cute”. At my age I don’t think I qualify as “cute”, but I am in pretty good shape for any age. I mean you can’t see my ribs, but if my abs had that kind of structure you could see my six-pack. I have the classic broad shoulders and narrow hips of the American Movie Hero. I’m good-looking enough I guess, but “cute”? I guess “cute” is in the eye of the be(er)holder. I don’t know if this woman had had any beers or any other intoxicating beverage, but it was late at night when it happened.

Now what happened this morning was more classic in the form of a passenger in a car yelling something unintelligible out the window as he drove past only to have to stop at the next red light right next to the last spot in the through lane where I was going. When I got to the end of the line of traffic in my lane I looked over and the male teen-age passenger looked like he was trying to crawl through the seat he was slouching so low while the driver was looking sheepish in his seat. I was wearing my ANSI Safety Lime wicking polo that an ex-girlfriend found for me, so I looked vaguely official with my collared shirt. I love when that happens.

I’m trying to re-hydrate before I have to get back on the bike to ride to church for the evening service, I was a bit parched by the lack of humidity on the way back and by all the sweat I left on the garage floor trying to get the bike put back together.

I’m watching the end of the TdF stage 14, and just heard they found 28 tacks in various tires on the stage at the top of a climb, with Cadel Evans having at least 3 in his tires (because he had to stop 3 times to change wheels). As the program is going off I hear a possibility of a criminal investigation to find the culprit responsible for the attack on the Tour. They take this very seriously in France. At the very end of the program they updated the count to over 30 tacks, including some that they were showing on one of the police bikes that “protect” the Tour

After the Tour is over I’m going to fix a noodle bowl and watch the results of the various car races of the weekend. Then I have to hit the road again.

PSA, Opus

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