Grace

Last week I got a flat, and by the time I got to a bike shop, they were closing and so couldn't do the repair and just sold me a tube. (Full disclosure: I was totally not planning on replacing the inner tube myself.) So I took my bike home and took an absurdly long time to realize I'd have to take off the whole wheel and clawed off* the tire and remembered to pump up the new tube a bit before threading it in and it all took a while but was an oddly empowering experience.

So when I got another flat not 3 days later I was, frankly, more pleased at this opportunity to get more comfortable dealing w/ bike problems than grumpy at the disruption of my plans. This time it was the back tire and I was discomfited to realize a couple days later that I'd put it on out of alignment and too close to the front tire - the chain was all slack.

So I decided to do it right and acquired exotic items like mineral spirits and a chain breaker and took my bike apart, scrubbed everything I could, and put her** back together, all shiny*** and proud****.

So it was somewhat distressing when yesterday, heading down Broad, she kicked off her chain with the insouciance of a filly rejecting the bit. And of course I got grease everywhere, including my shirt, which now bears an interesting gear print. But one very nice guy stopped and gave me kleenex and hand sanitizer and advice, and another very nice guy at a garage helped me move the back wheel back (grrr someday I will master doing this on my own), and overall the whole bike saga has been full of people being extraordinarily helpful (including the bike store guy who was very patient w/ my ignorance) and the acquisition of knowledge, and it might be going a little far to describe the whole thing as a transcendent affirmation of the pleasures of the mundane, but I don't really think so.

* You will now notice and admire my use of highly technical terminology.
** Yes, my bike has a gender and a name - Miss Lily.
*** Her.
**** Me.