Every time I go into a bike shop, the interactions, conversations, transactions, etc. are really strange and awkward. It seems to take a lot of effort to communicate with people in the shop. It’s almost as if we don’t speak the same language and have to mime to each other what we’re trying to convey. I wanted to pick up some toe clips for the SSSSSSSSSSS. This would seem like a relatively simple task, but for some reason most of the bike shops in my area do not carry metal toe clips. Since the SSSSSSSSSS is a somewhat vintage bike (’71) it seemed appropriate to seek out some metal clips that bear some resemblance to the clips it came with (I have no idea what happened to the originals. I took them off when I was like 12 years old along with that old uncool seat (the original leather Brooks saddle!) and now two decades later, they’ve both been misplaced.) But, I knew of one place about twelve miles away that was sure to have some replacement clips.
So, I rode around town for a while with Mr. Adam and went to a nice burrito joint and checked out his new apartment and then finally dropped by the tiny little new hyper-hip bike shop – they actually call themselves a boutique – can you believe it! I basically knew what I wanted upon entering the store (having done excessive research online) and maybe I should have made that more clear to the bike shop hipster – that probably would have helped the flow of the conversation. Eventually, we (the shopkeep and I) managed to come to an agreement where I was allowed to make a purchase from his store and get the hell out of there. So now I have toe clips and sssssssssshe’s really all ready to roll. The whole experience left me feeling strange, though, and I spent the rest of the day “fixating” on it and wondering how I could have made it easier for the shop and myself. Then I spent the night dreaming about biking.
Run: 30 = 14+7+9 (8 miles from my all-time annual record of 912)
Bike: 68 = 3+(11+8)+(3+6)+3+7+27
Beer: 19 = 5+1+5+6+2
Burrito: 5 (100 ytd)