This morning, on the way to anatomy class, I jumped onto a Jersey barrier upon my (loaned) bicycle in an attempt to avoid having to ride in the busy street around a bit of construction blocking the pedestrian path. Immediately upon mounting the concrete structure I lost my balance, fell over onto a spot of muddy grass to the right (i.e. not into vehicular traffic), tore open a finger-knuckle on my right hand, and badly bent the front wheel of the purple-and-blue women's bicycle I have been riding for the past week. Undaunted, I turned around and walked the mangled velocipede back to my hostel, turned back around, and walked the 2.3 miles to class.
Oh the plans I had to repair the front wheel, to tune the spokes by hand, myself, whilst sitting in a nice park and whistling away my sorrows. Anyone who has ever attempted to tune the spokes of a badly-bent bicycle wheel will know how frustrating, infuriating, and all but hopeless it is to try and do this type of work freehand, by eye and feel alone; I spent more than three hours trying to do it myself as well as trying to find a bicycle shop in Houston Texas open past six in the evening, both to no avail. Now, it is after ten p.m., the wheel is still bent (thought not nearly as badly as it was this morning,) I am exhausted in will, spirit, and body, and not only is my time gone but I will be out roughly $35 for a new wheel or a few bucks less for a quick tuning job, adding those to the 3+ hours I already spent (at $20/hr, ), and I'm almost out a c-note with nothing to show for it but my all-too-apparent frustration. One of these times I'll remember to just take the bike to a shop and pay someone else to tune the spokes rather than working myself into a lather trying to do it myself. Oh brother, phew, and mahalo.
mentiri factorem fecit – 場黑麥
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