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Fuck my bike repair skills
Mar. 4th, 2011 08:41 pmSoooooo this time it looks like the flat was my own damn fault–I pinched the tube.
New tube installed and hopefully not pinched this time.
Mirrored from Fire of Unknown Origin.
Fuck my bike
Mar. 3rd, 2011 10:17 pmLate May: rear tire goes flat. Hole in tube is found and patched, foreign object is found and removed from tire, boot installed in tire.
November: rear tire goes flat. Another hole in tube is found and patched, another foreign object is found and removed from tire, another boot installed in tire.
Two weeks ago: rear tire goes flat. Tube and tire are removed, shitcanned, and replaced with self-sealing tube and Kevlar tire.
Today: A tire goes flat. Guess which one. Go on, guess.
If you guessed “the Kevlar fucking tire with the self-sealing fucking tube I just fucking put on this fucking bicycle,” go get yourself a cookie.
And of course I noticed this well after Aunt Boss, who drives a truck that could have gotten me and the bike home easily, had left. I ended up walking the two miles home, pushing the fucking bike. I put a little air in it when I got home, and there is a big enough hole that I could hear and feel air shooting out of it. I do not have the energy to deal with attempting to fix it tonight so I guess I’ll just be riding the racing bike tomorrow.
Mirrored from Fire of Unknown Origin.
I did sort of forget to mention that UPS did in fact bring me my sweet new racin’ bike right on schedule. I got it put together with a minimum of swearing (“our bikes come 90% assembled” my entire ass) but haven’t actually ridden it outside yet, as it still needs some minor adjustments and a couple of test laps around a parking lot or something before I even think about taking it out on the road.
Also, as the hour of riding it on the trainer the other day tells me, a new saddle. PADDING, MOTHERFUCKERS, DO YOU USE IT? Ouch.
Yeah, I will gladly sacrifice a few ounces and a few seconds on my bike time for the sake of, y’know, not having a sore ass for the rest of the fucking day. This thing is ridiculous, I’m telling you. Apparently they are designed for people who have NO ASSES. …well, and pads in their shorts, that too.
I’d like to get some better pedals someday as well, and the front derailleur and I are going to have to have a nice long talk because it likes to skip the chain right off the big ring (I’m not thrilled with the fact that the chainring has no little rail or guard or other such mechanism in place to stop that, as has been the case on pretty much every other bike I have ever owned that had more than one gear, and that’s another wishlist item, but for now I’m just going to try adjusting things)
There’s also that thing where for about the last fifteen years I’ve ridden nothing but big heavy mountain bikes and big heavy cruisers and this little light thing with its little skinny tires is going to take some getting used to. I CAN PICK THIS BIKE UP WITH ONE HAND. OVER MY HEAD. EASILY. It’s like the difference between a B-52 and a balsa model of same. No aero bars to get used to, at least, and that was by choice. I do not like them. They scare me.
Originally published at Fire of Unknown Origin. You can comment here or there.
And so begins several days of obsessively poking UPS to see where my new bike is, and the related reminding of self that obsessively poking UPS isn’t going to make it get here any faster.
Fortunately, I think it’s just coming from Dallas.
I think.
Originally published at Fire of Unknown Origin. You can comment here or there.
HOT MEAT HERE
Sep. 7th, 2008 07:27 pm…by which I mean, I made gyudon for dinner and tomorrow’s lunch and it was delicious. I even posted my recipe. YES, I USED A DAMN FILET, THEY ARE JUST THE RIGHT SIZE AND $4 AND THE DELICIOUS BACON CHOPPED UP AND ADDED TO THE BROTH WAS AWESOME. (warning: I’m still farting around with some new templates there, site may be kind of butt-ugly)
And out of my $50 scratch-off prize, $40 of it went to putting a new tire and tube on the bike after a blowout on the way home Friday. :cuss:
Fortunately, the guys at the bike shop had not much going on yesterday and were able to change my tire in just a couple of minutes. And the new tire is the sort they put on police bikes. I’m going to take it back in next weekend and have one put on the front, too.
Originally published at Fire of Unknown Origin. You can comment here or there.
(no subject)
Apr. 25th, 2005 08:47 pmIt'd been looking pretty gross outside for most of the day. It sprinkled a little now and then, and tried to rain hard once but failed, and by 5:00 it had pretty much stopped and just looked like it might be thinking about raining.
Which it did, immediately, as soon as I put my ass on my bike seat.
Not hard, but enough to be annoying. I thought about running by the grocery store and/or Starbucks on the way home, and thought better of it because by the time I approached that neck of the woods, I was pretty well saturated.
Now. The street I go down most of the way to and from work is under heavy construction as it runs closest to my apartment complex. I avoid it in the morning, because the side I would need to go down has two-way traffic squeezed into the two lanes on the right-hand side of the road. But in the evenings, I will sometimes take the other, closed side home if I don't need to stop and buy anything. They're tearing some of the shit up there, but mostly it's just two lovely, sweet lanes of asphalt which I have aaaaaall to myself.
So, I thought, since I do not wish to enter and drip in anyone's place of business, I'll take that road home.
Which was fine... until I hit a section of road that appeared to be paved entirely in thick, goopy mud. The kind of mud that grabs your shoe, yanks it off, and sucks it under. I slammed on my brakes just in time--any further, and I would fallen over and gotten an unplanned mud bath.
Oh, fuck that.
So now I'm ankle-deep in mud. There is mud caked an inch thick all over my tires, to the point where the bike is not wanting to roll very well because the shit is scraping off and getting caked up in the frame, and I am trying to push this sonofabitch through this mud, and my feet are making the most immature farting-slurping noises ever as I'm slogging through the shit.
Shlorp. Spthtppb. Shlorp. Ppptphthtpb. Shlorp.
I get into a clean parking lot, and I have three-inch mud platforms. Oh goody, here's a puddle, I'll just wash this off now. No such luck. Shit wasn't going anywhere.
I ended up pushing the bike half a block back the way I came, to the car wash, and hosing the mud off it. Well, I needed to wash the bike anyway. Dropped quarters, turned the dial to "rinse," and opened fire on the rear wheel at point-blank range.
SHPLORP!!!
...and now, I am covered in mud. I am ankle-deep in muddy water, because the drain in this car wash stall isn't draining. At least my shoes are clean.
Finished hosing the bike down. Pushed it through nice clean parking lots, and across the street to the park where I could get back on it and ride it the remaining two blocks home. It's currently drying off on the balcony.
CYCLING: IT'S NOT JUST TRANSPORTATION, IT'S AN ADVENTURE
Which it did, immediately, as soon as I put my ass on my bike seat.
Not hard, but enough to be annoying. I thought about running by the grocery store and/or Starbucks on the way home, and thought better of it because by the time I approached that neck of the woods, I was pretty well saturated.
Now. The street I go down most of the way to and from work is under heavy construction as it runs closest to my apartment complex. I avoid it in the morning, because the side I would need to go down has two-way traffic squeezed into the two lanes on the right-hand side of the road. But in the evenings, I will sometimes take the other, closed side home if I don't need to stop and buy anything. They're tearing some of the shit up there, but mostly it's just two lovely, sweet lanes of asphalt which I have aaaaaall to myself.
So, I thought, since I do not wish to enter and drip in anyone's place of business, I'll take that road home.
Which was fine... until I hit a section of road that appeared to be paved entirely in thick, goopy mud. The kind of mud that grabs your shoe, yanks it off, and sucks it under. I slammed on my brakes just in time--any further, and I would fallen over and gotten an unplanned mud bath.
Oh, fuck that.
So now I'm ankle-deep in mud. There is mud caked an inch thick all over my tires, to the point where the bike is not wanting to roll very well because the shit is scraping off and getting caked up in the frame, and I am trying to push this sonofabitch through this mud, and my feet are making the most immature farting-slurping noises ever as I'm slogging through the shit.
Shlorp. Spthtppb. Shlorp. Ppptphthtpb. Shlorp.
I get into a clean parking lot, and I have three-inch mud platforms. Oh goody, here's a puddle, I'll just wash this off now. No such luck. Shit wasn't going anywhere.
I ended up pushing the bike half a block back the way I came, to the car wash, and hosing the mud off it. Well, I needed to wash the bike anyway. Dropped quarters, turned the dial to "rinse," and opened fire on the rear wheel at point-blank range.
SHPLORP!!!
...and now, I am covered in mud. I am ankle-deep in muddy water, because the drain in this car wash stall isn't draining. At least my shoes are clean.
Finished hosing the bike down. Pushed it through nice clean parking lots, and across the street to the park where I could get back on it and ride it the remaining two blocks home. It's currently drying off on the balcony.
CYCLING: IT'S NOT JUST TRANSPORTATION, IT'S AN ADVENTURE
