Fix Its

You might think that if you've organized a bike fixing party, and you're going to be getting greasy with two handsome men, and you write a blog, you just might think that you might remember to take a camera to document the occasion so you can write a big long blog post about how very nice and patient your friend Steve, who has tons of tools and stands and a bike-fixing manual and *gumption*, really is.

You might think that, but you would be silly. You would be bad and wrong.

Eric and I went over to Shelley and Steve's to fix our bikes on Sunday. Mine had been in my leaky lean-to over the damp and rainy fall and damp winter. I think Eric had left his in a puddle. We were in a state of rust.

But no longer! We used a little fluid-filled doohickey to clean the chain, I adjusted my brakes cables so my front brakes are no longer mushy, Steve trued my tire by playing with the spoke nipples. I also adjusted one of the rear brake pads so it doesn't scrape on the rim, which is probably bad for your bike and was really wearing on my nerves.

Eric tried to figure out what was going on with his front derailleur in order to fix it. He fixed it by removing it. Who needs so many gears?

My bike feels very cushy and complicated compared to Eric's. Notice the absence of fenders. Notice the very simple lines and the absence of shocks (though he does have some hidden in the handlebars). Compared to his, my bike feels overly engineered.








There is a story behind that bike that I cannot tell without sounding extraordinarily bitter. Let's just say that it is not the bike I would have chosen for myself.

We drank beer and I managed to get about twice as greasy and the boys and as mentioned above, Steve was kind and nice and lovely and very very helpful. In the absence of Steve fixing bikes, here is a picture of Steve's gorgeous new tattoo.


And here is my handsome man. His tattoo is hidden.