Wrenching

Gentle Readers .....

I have been remiss in my writing of late.  Truth be told, I had lost my job, and was fully committed to finding  new gig.  This left little time for writing.  After about a month's worth of being unemployed, I was offered a job - a really decent job - and will be starting up there shortly.  We then took a long-overdue trip to visit family in Minnesota, which is where I am as I write this.  Things are settling back to a semblance of normal and I feel like I have the time and energy to write.  So without further gilding of the lily ......

I take care of most of the mechanical needs for our bikes.  I really enjoy the activity and feel like there are a number of benefits.  You save money, become more intimate with the working of a modern bicycle and have a better riding experience overall.  There is also a therapeutic value to the activity.

Bike shops are equipped to handle any problem that may arise with a bicycle, but it comes with a price.  Along with the cost of parts, there are often shop fees associated with the routine maintenance, repairs and upgrades that are part-and-parcel to owning a modern bicycle.  Doing this work yourself saves on shop fees, which can add up quickly and may cost ore than the parts involves.  It also frees you, the consumer, to find the best price you can on the parts you want or need,  So by wrenching your own bike, you can save a bit of money.  For me, She Who Holds The Purse Strings really appreciates this.

It may seem kind of strange to speak of intimacy with a machine, but this is what wrenching your own bike gives you.  After a while, there isn't a single part of your bike that is unfamiliar.  You know very nut, bolt, screw and other bits that are on your bike.  If something is going wrong, or out of adjustment, you know about it long before it becomes a problem.  You also know what needs to be done to fix or correct it.  Oftentimes, this level of intimacy, allows you to correct minor issues as a matter of course.  The bike is almost always in peak condition as a result.

This leads us to the overall experience in riding the bike.  Because you wrench it yourself you are always fully aware of your bike's condition.  As a result of this, you ride with greater confidence in the machine.  You ride without the worry that something may go wrong.  Everything is as it should be, so you can relax and enjoy the ride.

While all that is important, the biggest benefit I get is from the therapeutic value of the activity.  Although my cancer isn't foremost in my mind, it's still a thought that lingers, and there is always frustrations and anxieties that go along with it.  Like anyone else, my life has its share of other stresses which can sometimes weigh heavily on heart and mind.  Being able to take a cup of coffee down to The Shop and tinker with one of our bikes is a remarkable source of relaxation.  It may be a something major, like replacing a part, or readjusting the derailleurs and it may be a simple as cleaning the chain, or just detailing the bike.  Whatever I do leaves me calmer, happier, satisfied and relaxed.  The cares and concerns of the day are suddenly gone.  As Steinbeck said so well (and I paraphrase),......

The world, once again, spins in greased grooves.

So, there's a lot to be said for wrenching your own bike and there's really nothing much to it.  Modern bicycles are relatively simple machines whose workings are easily understood and learned.  You can save a buck or two, be a better cyclist, have a lot more fun and it can even help you feel better.

Feeling better is important.

It's Not A Death Sentence

If you want to be sad, no one in the world can make you happy. But if you make up your mind to be happy, no one and nothing on earth can take that happiness from you.

~Paramahansa Yogananda

One of the things you learn when you have cancer is that there are a lot of well-meaning people - beautiful people - who step up and offer their support.  More often than not, that's moral support.

We'll be here if you need us.

If there's anything you need, let us us know.

That sort of thing.

I'm not trying to trivialize.  What these people offer, oftentimes the only thing they that they can offer, is really important.  It's surprisingly comforting to know you have people "in your corner", so to speak.  You find out pretty quickly who actually gives a shit and who doesn't.  You may not ever have to call on them and in any event, there may be nothing they can do, but you do come to consider these people your friends.  They want to make you happy.

We'll be here.........

I had a couple rather touching examples at my office.

Two of the first people I told about the cancer was my boss, Wayne, and his administrative assistant Tammy.  A couple days later I got an email from the senior partners' administrative assistant, Darlene.

Barry and Carol are so sorry to hear about your cancer and wanted me to let you know that if there's any thing the partners can do to help, don't hesitate to ask.  Please keep us posted.

I thought that was very nice.  I was touched.  I was also moderately curious about how Barry and Carol found out about the cancer in the first place, but Ma Clover didn't raise ingrates.  Better to acknowledge the kindness and forget about the source.  So I wrote back saying how deeply I touched I was by the message and thank you very much.  A month before I would have been a little outraged at the intrusion, but today I was thankful for the understanding and compassion being demonstrated.  I was a little curious about how  they found out about it but didn't inquire. As it turned out it was Tammy who spilled the beans.  I couldn't be mad at her, either.  It all came down to people being compassionate.  You can't get pissed about that.

Sometime later I was walking past Wayne's office and he called me in to catch up on how things were going.  I talked about still feeling OK and what a pain all the doctors were and how I'd be better served in Iceland and all about all the crap I was going through.  Wayne took this in with a great deal of understanding.  His wife was in remission from Lymphoma at the time and he and his family had been through the wringer.  Without having actually had cancer himself, he knew exactly what I was going through.  As I was leaving his office he added this:

My wife and I were talking about your situation the other day and she asked me to pass along something.  She asked me to tell you that it's not a death sentence.

.....it's not a death sentence.

I'd already had my fill of people telling me how sorry they were about my having cancer, the looks of sheer horror, the pity.  Finally, someone, a fellow survivor, was giving me something I could work with.  It was like a breath of fresh air.  I had a new mantra.  I decided that this ...... thing ...... that afflicted me would never get the better of me.  I would live life, what life was left to me, happily and fully.  I had a disease, yes.  It might not be curable, yes.  Life in the future could and probably would be a real bitch at times, yes.  So what?

.....it's not a death sentence.

In our society, we're conditioned to think that a cancer diagnosis is the end of the road.  We think that a doctor telling us we have cancer is the same as saying us we're a dead man.  It's all over.  The end of the road.  The last hurrah.  Time to piss on the fire and call in the dogs.

But it's not.  It's none of that.  Yes, in a existential way of thinking, we're all dead.  None of us are getting out of here alive.  That much is certain.  However a doctor telling us we have cancer doesn't mean we're dead ....... yet.  For many of us, surviving cancer means the belief that there is a lot of life left to live and that we will go on living (not just staying alive) ........ until we die.  Maybe all cancer survivors feel way. 

Everyone should live that way.

.....it's not a death sentence.

It's Josh's Bike Now

It used to be mine.

I bought it "off the rack" at my local Kmart.  Or was it Walmart. Shit, I don't remember, but wherever it was, it happened ten years ago.  Maybe.  I forget.  Dammit!  I don't even remember why I bought it in the first place.

This gettin' old shit ain't for pussies.

Anyway.....

I bought this bike and used it briefly. Then it sat in the garage for a long time, collecting dust, the tires going flat.  Ignored.  Neglected. All but forgotten.

Then came Doctors Orders.

Ride your bike.

So, I pulled ten years of flotsam off the bike.  I cleaned it up.  I put air back in the tires.  I oiled the chain.  I went to the cupboard, grabbed my helmet and gloves and went back to go for a ride.

Both tires were already flat.

Gawddammit!

So, I went to the nearest bike shop and got a couple tubes.  I got home replaced the tubes, aired-up the tires and went for a ride.

Let me take a moment to describe the bike.  It was a full-suspension mountain bike.  For those unfamiliar with bikes like this, a full-suspension bike has a suspension system on both wheels.  It was made from aluminum and heavy (weighed in at 42 pounds).  It had 21 speeds - 7 gears (or cogs) on the rear wheel and 3 gears (or chainrings) on the crank.  The derailleurs were made by Shimano but not particularly good.  By any standard, this wasn't a particularly good bike, but it was serviceable.

I would joke about the bike.  I'd call it a POS (Piece of Shit).  I'd run down the derailuers, the wheels, the tires, the frame, the seat, the weight and whatever benighted, reprobate, creature designed it.  I would, at times, be relentless in my condemnation.  Privately, it was a much different story.

I was having fun.

Despite all the bike's shortcomings, I was enjoying the hell out of riding it. The sights and sounds associated with cycling were kind of intoxicating.  Meeting the challenges of a climb, a new route, an old route ridden faster or a longer route I found to be supremely satisfying.  I was feeling better.  I was losing a little weight.  My cardio-vascular health was improving.   It was all that, more and I was loving every minute of it. It may not have been the best bike in the world and it may have been every bit the POS I was telling people it was, but it was also my conveyance to a new world, a new way of life.

I found tinkering with that bike to be very therapeutic.  Going to the garage after dinner with a cup of coffee and NPR to work on my bike (whether it needed the work or not) became a ritual of sorts.  It was calming.  It was intimate.  It was rewarding.

It provided me with education.  I learned to do things I didn’t know how to do.  I learned to adjust derailleurs and brakes.  I cleaned and re-greased the wheel bearings.  I took it apart and put it back together.  I found out what differences changing seat or handlebar positioning would make.  I learned how to pace myself.  I learned how to listen to my body.

This bike, this “piece of shit”, was helping me in ways I had never thought I could be helped.  Taking me to places I had never considered going to.  My life was changing, right before my very eyes and this machine was at the heart of it.

It really wasn’t a piece of shit.  It was more like a friend.  I liked this bike.  I was having fun with it.  It was helping me make my world a Better Place.

What are friends for?

*********************************************

All things change and so would this.  That bike was a mountain bike.  It was meant to be ridden off-road and I was becoming more interested in road cycling.  I found a decent road bike, bought it and began riding that.  The mountain bike was once again set aside.  I was thinking about giving it to some needy kid when a friend, Josh, offered to buy it from me.  I needed some kit, so I took him up on his offer.

So now it’s Josh’s bike and I hope he can get a fraction of what I got from it.