I often go for a short 20 minute bike ride to clear my head and think things through. A few days ago, I donned my bike shorts, slathered on enough sunscreen to protect an Albino,(sorry is that not P.C. enough? I really can’t keep up with the latest acceptable terms so let’s just allow it to slide this time shall we?) clicked my 6 year old’s monkey helmet in place which seems to be the only size that fits my slender head despite my large brain- and got on – ready to go !- only to discover I had two flat tires.
My first thought was Sabotage!!! ….Clearly the work of the old couple who cursed me out for NOT hitting them with my bike a few weeks ago (but alas that was a different blog – I strongly urge you to check the archives – it’s worth the read! The Sheriff’s File they opened on me is still pending) But regardless of how the tires got that way they still needed repair .
No question about it….I am definitely the handyman around the house but that’s not saying much being that I’m married to a Jewish man and everyone knows that Jews aren’t handy people ( even though we built the pyramids our proficiency with tools went out after we split the sea).
Nope, Jewish Men may be smart and good with money, but HANDY they are NOT.
That being said, I certainly know how to master a screwdriver to open a bottle of wine when my corkscrew goes missing but when it comes to bike tires the only thing I know how to do is take the damn bike back to the store and have them pump them up with air.
As it turned out, the tube was flat – or punctured – whatever the medical term the Bike Doctor used – and had to be replaced. So after waiting for what felt like forever and ever I packed my newly repaired bike into my Car excited to go home and RIDE.
When I opened the trunk to take the bike out I must have squeezed and twisted the front wheel a few too many times to cram it in because suddenly I heard a snap crackle pop and the entire brake had burst right off….it could have been a bone sticking through a limb – my reaction was the same – I had no idea what to do about it and I certainly did not want to stick around to clean up the mess.
So there I stood debating if I should take it right back to the store which would entail having to twist and heave and cram the heavy thing BACK (Stick with me here – that’s the KEY word) into the truck which would warrant I’d actually have to LIFT it up myself……upper body strength is NOT my FORTE…..I can dead lift 70 pounds but can’t open a refrigerator door….so instead, I opted to just put the damn thing in the corner of the garage and take up walking instead.
But then after a few days of feeling like an OOMPA LOOPA as well as the strain of everyday stress, I started to miss my Draino for the brain and decided it was time to clear my head once again and take the damn bike back to the store.
Of course – as with anything I do – it wasn’t that easy and it turns out they don’t repair brakes (they can replace tubes because that would mean a SALE but REPAIRS are not stocked in BULK on the shelves of MEGAstores ).
So once again I was faced with the challenge of figuring out how to repair this brake ON MY OWN or finding a random bike store and beg them to repair my cheapo bike.
After tallying up my total cost of the gas to drive back and forth so many times, the replacement parts and the cost of repair, I figured I could have dumped the thing in the garbage (again would involve lifting ) and bought a new one at Target and still come out ahead.
So I lifted the thing back into the trunk of my car this time the crack snap pop came from my lower BACK and now I need to go to a chiropractor for my OWN repair.
Sometimes the things that bring us the most stress relief can also be the most aggravating thing to happen to us as well.
I liken it to marriage……..need I embellish ? That’s a blog in itself.
Have a great day!!!! (Happy Independence Day to the Zionists out there!)