I bought my reward for losing 30 pounds about two weeks ago, and I gotta say, it’s felt more like a punishment:
“That bike looks like it’s in a living room! What’s up with that?” you may ask. The reason I sweated, strained, and lugged this gigantic hunk of stainless steel from the bike rack outside my apartment building to my second-floor living room is that the view from my balcony looks like this:
You’re not experiencing color problems with your vision: yes, that’s snow. Lots of it.
While my bike is kinda pretty, the Schwinn and I have already had a troubled relationship. The first time I took it out, I had a nostalgic moment. As I ripped open my left heel on the pedal, all the memories of childhood injuries I received from endlessly riding my bike came flooding back. Not to be defeated, I kept on riding around town every day after work even though I believed something to be totally broken that was causing the pedals to jerk forward.
Pride kept me from taking the bike to the local repair shop: I had no idea what was wrong with it. Looking through the manual, a whole new vocabulary attempted to enter my brain and failed. What the heck was a rear derailleur? An idler pulley? Finally, I gave in, drove to borrow my mom’s SUV, and took the bike back to the big box store where I bought it, fully intending to demand (nicely) a new bike. Before I could do so, the customer service rep. informed me that this store had a repairman who could fix the problem for me. The phrase “Yeah, right!” pretty much summed up my thoughts at that point, but I agreed to leave my bike for the magic touch of Mr. Bicycle Repair.
Surprisingly, whomever worked on my bike actually fixed it. So after a week of injury, a broken bike, and repair, I had my new toy back.
Then, the rain began.
And the snow followed.
Oh, well. It can’t snow forever, even in Wisconsin. Winter is over, and the state’s other season, road construction, has to show up eventually.