The Web Warren

Last weekend, I blogged about how some inexpensive upgrades to my Lotus Excelle bicycle were incentivizing me to get out on the road. One upgrade that didn't work out was the attempt to replace my handlebar pack: because the Excelle has old-style auxiliary brake levers (aka "suicide levers"), the new pack interfered with my brakes and had to be returned in favor of a different model. The easiest way to make sure that the second replacement did not have the same limitations as the first was to take the bicycle to the store, to fit the pack to the vehicle.

In Yiddish, there's a phrase, kein ein houra (pronounced "KUNNuhHURRuh"). We usually use it in the context of warding off a jinx as in, "the baby's gotten big, kein ein houra!" (Others might say, "Thank the L-rd!" instead.) But kein ein houra can also be used to suggest that someone might have jinxed something: "He put a kein ein houra on it!" What happened last Sunday can only be described as a bicycle store salesman putting a kein ein houra on my wheels...

The Lotus has had some minor frame damage for years. Not the sort of damage that would threaten my safety or my ability to ride the bicycle -- in fact, it shortened the wheel base slightly, resulting in a better and more efficient fit. This particular salesman (not the one who was helping me) saw me walk my wheels over to the bags-and-packs area of the shop and insisted that because of this damage my vehicle was unsafe to ride and should be replaced immediately. Umm... right. I don't have money to buy a new bike, and this one suits my skill level just fine. My personal circumstances can't justify purchasing a new bicycle for quite some time -- if ever. There are a number of equally-expensive bicycle-related expenses that have priority over a new set of wheels, and many of the bikes at that shop are as expensive as an older-model secondhand car -- which (if I had a license) would be a much more practical purchase.

Then came Sunday afternoon. I had intended to hop over to the greengrocer to pick up some stuff for dinner --but two blocks from home, an SUV charged out from a cross street at a speed so fast that it could not be heard before it could be seen approaching the intersection, nor could I have accelerated quickly enough to avoid a collision. My only option was to stop -- fast. The stop tossed me off my bike, landing on my right shoulder and thigh, and overextended my left pinky finger (note that I'm left-handed). After doing an initial biological-damage assessment (mild "road rash" and a possibly-sprained finger), I picked up the bike and prepared to mount it -- but the front wheel kept rubbing against the down tube, leaving me with little choice but to limp home.

I'm perfectly capable of performing most maintenance and repair on the Excelle, so once I got home I took a closer look. At first runthough it looked like it might have been something that could be ameliorated by re-trueing the front wheel -- but the more I worked with the wheel, the more I came to the sad realization that short of completely changing the front end (wheel and brakes), there would be no way the Excelle could be returned to rideability.

The past week has been spent using The Other Half's cheap "Toys R Us" bicycle as sparingly as possible (it's too big for me, the brakes are "soft", and the wheels cannot be trued) to get some basic errands done while I dealt with sticker shock, and explored various options in the search for an urgently-needed replacement. It's been a rather intense week of muddling around the issues of what I want, what I need, and what I can pretend to afford.

Stay tuned for the next installment, Back on the Road...