Recently, I got two flat tires two days in a row on two different bikes. Pain in the face, I'll tell you what. The first day, actually, resulted in quite a beautiful walk home, I walked in the softest rains, and through blurried glasses I saw two rainbows, the illusion ending only metres in front of me, the end of the rainbow within my grasp. I saw red blackberries ripening and wondered at patience, ran my hand over softly tickling leaves. People usually say I look depressed when I am merely thinking, but at this time, I wore a smile as I marveled at natures wonders. And I also shared a warm smile with a businessman in a fancy suit. So that was pretty sweet.
Today, I had to fix the two of them. New bike, and the Bonerattler, my mom's old bike, with no shocks. This was kinda tricky. Bicycle repair is one of those skills that I do so rarely that I must always work to recall it, yet frequent enough for me to still retain a sizable proportion of the information. It felt like what it was; maintenance. Like massaging a sore leg or trimming a beard, I felt like I was taking care of a part of myself. I think me trying to repair my bike is kind of like God repairing me. It takes a good bit of time to fix any one problem, and it'll eventually run into problems again, and it's ultimate physical end is death by wearing away, but with work, and in time, it can be a wonderful tool for it's purposes. I didn't mean to end the blog on a serious note, so I won't!
Phrases I thought or said while fixing the bike:
You stupid, stupid bike!
What's wrong? What's the matter?
Mr. Snail, did you eat my washer?
I find talking to whatever you're trying to fix is very good for maintaining patience. Turns out, the snail did eat my washer, the blasted thing crawled right over it, and when I picked him up, there it was attached to his slimy underside. Pretty interesting stuff. I set him down outside to let him on his merry way, and then accidentally stepped on him as I left the garage. It's a strange thing to accidentally end something's life. I mean, I'm not shedding any tears over it, but it's just uncanny that you can end something's existance without even noticing it, except perhaps for a helpless crunch beneath your feet.
4 years ago