Skip to main content

Green Means "Go!".

My high school hag used to say that--"Green means 'Go!'!"--and now I say it when I'm on my bike at intersections. It's sort of a declaration to the cosmos that I have some kind of invisible right of way. I also just realized it couldn't get much greener than biking--my carbon footprint is, like, nil or stuff.

All this biking has been a new experience for me. Being able to go farther for freer and timelier too is kinda amazing. My legs and ass have never been finer, either. I'm also losing the pudge I put on over the summer. Naturally, though, as a second hand bike, there have been a few hitches here and there.

It's a lot like sex (but what isn't?): overall fuckin' great but there's always a thing or two--something the other guy does, some habit or oversight, or maybe it's your bad afterall--that just nags at your ability to quite give over. Kinda cuts into the kinky good times, you know? Especially over time; you thought it'd go away but hasn't.

Once you own up to the problem a bit and deal with it, though, you're back fucking like a rockstar. All it takes, apparently, is some lube, talcum powder, and googling.



From almost the beginning, the worst problem was the chafing. Christ, man, that was terrible. My groins were hurtin--I'd have to bike kinda bow-leggedly towards the end there. And standing/walking around all day for my job? Ouch.

This problem was prospectively solved when I acquired a healthy bottle of talcum powder. Mmmm....baby-butt fresh.

Another early problem was sweating. Sicne most of my biking has been for commuting to work, I naturally don't want to be dripping sweat on the salesfloor or be sweat-soaked. That was easy to fix--I wear just my undershirt and pack up the rest; once I get to the mall I cool off a bit if needed then put on the outer layers and look instantly fabulous.

Also, as I've gotten back in shape from biking (and it's gotten colder out), I'm less overheated by the time I reach the mall. Also less out of breath. It's kinda amazing--it's, like, no effort to bike there anymore.

Even though those problems were pretty general and easily resolved, there've been several mechanical issues that've bugged the fuck outta me. Though mostly minor, they've all be a nuisance. And it seemed like I'd resolve one and another'll pop up. Goddamn.

First it was just the chain. It was stiff and didn't like shifting gears. Very sluggish most of the time; sometimes not even changing at all for several several pedals.

I thought I could deal with it until it decided to not only pop off altogether but also get itself wedged between a spoke and the large gear. FML. I had to carry the bike the rest of the way home. Seriously lame, people.

After a great deal of manly brute force between my father and I we got the damn thing unstuck. Only to discover that a) the brakes were out of alignment, b) we'd introduced a wobble to the wheel (yay brute force and bike spokes...), and c) the link that was pinned was now pinched stiff.

Basically one brake was leaning in while the other was in/past? its normal rest position; this meant that one of the brake pads was always/almost engaging the wheel rim, creating friction and basically killing my ability to coast like a rockstar. Which, correspondingly, cut into my sex appeal, obvs. (No, the dorky helmet couldn't possibly have already eliminated my sex appeal. No way.) I also couldn't use the back brake (which I generally favor) as that one pad was already engaging the wheel and couldn't be pulled in any further, so the other would just sit there not connecting at all. Flipping faggotry....

The wobble in itself wasn't too bad, I guess. It, however, was a good six inch patch leaning towards that dicky brake. So the brake went from kinda connecting with the rim the whole way to thoroughly engaging for that half foot of bentness. For all the reasons the brake was already buggin' me, that made it worse. Couldn't coast, had to peddle harder, and of course wearing down the brake pad.

The pinched link was really unnerving. The chain would pop/skip every 4ish pedals. Fucker....

Well, all of these buggerings have been more or less fixed in some capacity. Tolerably so, at least. So, naturally, it's back to good hot sextastic bikin'. Mmm....

One benefit I can't mention enough is the liberation biking's provided. There's all kinda stuff that I'd have been unable to get to or moped & refused to get to if I couldn't get a ride. But now I just bike, either all the way or to a bus or something. It's really great--and a lot easier than I'd have expected :)

Comments

Other things that might interest you...

On aging, and fear.

To begin with, I’m not sure you’re aware of it, but I’m middle aged. Oh? What gave it away? Using a blog as my primary literary medium?¹ Hm. But in fact, the APA defines 35 years as the end of “young adulthood.” Yeah. I found out via some shitpost on twitter when I was already 35, so it didn’t sit well with me then either. But my worries about aging began much sooner than that. See, even in my 20s, I feared I’d been wasting my life. I’d struggled with school and life and everything since graduating high school, arguably sooner, and nothing seemed to be going anywhere meaningful . I felt I had a limited social life, a dead-end job, no money, no great travels, a limping love life; I was, generally, a loser, wasting away... There were none of the usual hallmarks of success or happiness. And that scared me. Would my life have been worth it if I continued in this direction? Would it have been a “life well lived” by the end? So, this is my existential struggle. Even now, as I lurch ever nea

Changing lanes.

I was driving home in some traffic last night when I drifted, in my mind, a long way back (about 20 years) to high school. I was caught in one of those periodic traffic slowdowns as I floated back; you know, those waves of congestion that seem to pass backward through the columns of cars in each lane. (I've heard they start because someone switches lanes, and in response, a rippling emergent slowness travels backward and outward as the cars behind it accommodate the change, one by one.) What drew me back to those younger days was that, back in high school, similar phenomena of congestion took place in the halls between classes, when eddies of young humans would get caught in and around those clumps of those chatting by lockers or retrieving books. Occasionally, backups would occur when groups of people got caught in these eddies, or collided with other groups by the lockers, and slowdowns would ripple back from there. Maybe it's not exactly the same, but as I drove it seemed si

On phases and fixations.

My fixations are powerful, but they can also be maddeningly ephemeral and fleeting. And I hate that; about them and, honestly, about myself. But I’ve never really  asked why I feel that way... I'll commit immense amounts of time and energy and even money to a fixation for a few weeks, maybe even a month or two, sometimes rebranding my whole personality around it, then just...move on. I'm not sure when I first noticed this pattern—if it was always there or if it emerged and intensified over time—but it's been part of me for a long while. And every time I do, I feel such guilt and shame. Who even am I if I can't be consistent, dedicated, substantive? How disingenuous is it that nothing I care about lasts? I’ve always just accepted those feelings; I’ve never poked at them in earnest. If you can’t tell from the recent flurry of activity on this blog, I have been fixated on blogging; I mentioned in a recent post about this blog that I had a compulsion to revamp the whole bl