Sorry Al, but It's Over

It always happens this way. You think that you have found the right one, your ideal companion, and it will be like this forever. Then they start changing. A spoke breaks, then another. A bent wheel, a broken pedal, and then you can't believe what you actually find your self thinking: I have to get another bike.

Al has been so good to me, an amazing teacher. But I think I have outgrown him, literally. Too many repairs, a few that are pretty much unfixable without a blowtorch and some fervant prayer. So I took the plunge, as certain English majors would say, and picked up a new mountain bike. I won't talk about price, as I am not materialistic or an accountant. But rest assured that if I bought it, then the bike had to be a good value, one of those 4 am waiting online at Sports Authority deals. Yes Linda and I are still trying to recoup that lost slumber. But what of Al, my life coach, what role will he play, and who will now be my teacher? Looking at my new shiny mountain bike with disc brakes and full suspension, I sense that I will have to teach it, not the reverse. And what will Al think as I wheel my young, strong bike past him on weekends, as he sits in the garage, collecting dust, his tires losing air. I have a feeling that his teaching days are not over. He will surprise me again, I am sure.

But what of biking now, when it is 10 degrees and we await the blizzard of 2009? At least I have until spring to make the necessary adjustments on my new bike (disk brakes, front handlebars), and maybe do some doctoring to Al, that old Mongoose, who still carries a grudge against me for waiting this long to fix his spoke and bent rim. To think that I have not biked in any real sense of the word since October 4, wow? I have proven that humans can live this miserable existence we call life, without partaking in the very things that make it barely tolerable. Life from inside the petrie dish gets challenging in the winter.

This post is so old that it is decomposing and I must finish it. But the lexicon calls:

My Word!: Yes this feature has become a staple of my obscure, shameful blog, and the world has expressed gratitude that it does, in fact, exist. Just yesterday a band of unruly teenagers chased me down the street, throwing snowballs at my head, screaming "you dork, you deserve to die". Ah, the boundless energy of young wordsmiths, inspired by an older mentor such as myself. How touching that they knew my nome de plume ("Dork"), and as I crawled up my stoop in front of my house, slamming the door behind me, I wiped my bloody brow, thanking the good lord that I would live to write another day. But to my main literary topic, the singular beauty of plurality.

Restrooms: When Linda and I visited the girls this past weekend we first stopped across the street to visit the proverbial coffee shop. And boy is this one ever a prototype for a coffee shop. Some look like diners, others like a cafe or restaurant, but not this one. Coffee Shop, just as the neon letters above the door say. After finalizing my transaction I bounded down the stairs to use the facility. Although the door in the dimly lit hall was rather small, the sign said "Restrooms". What flashed through my mind made me brace myself. Would this door lead to a lobby where I would then see signs for "MEN" and WOMEN"? Or would it open to an underground atrium with a high ceiling and tropical foliage? Would there be choirs singng carols (I mean it is the Christmas season)? Opening the door brought me back to reality, as the space inside the door was about half the size of a proper closet. Boy does it burn me when people misuse an "s", setting perceptive, deranged people such as myself up for disappointment. I stormed upstairs and demanded to see the manager of the establishment. After describing my dismay in great detail, he blinked his eyes a few times and asked in a strong accent, "Decaf, or regular"? Come to think of it, just give me an everything with a shmear. With a feeling of vindication, I left the coffee shop, knowing that I had done my best to uphold the honor of the English language.

Have I filled my quota yet? Peace all, stay warm and Keep the Faith. Heading to Cedar Creek for some sledding.