Why does God hate me on wheels?

Oct 15, 2007 01:18

Couple of years ago, I had Arianna's bike. I'd ride it to work. Sometimes I'd ride it home; sometimes she'd pick me up (and we'd put the bike on her bike rack on the back of the car). I kept the bike out on the patio.

And then, one night, some asshole stole it.

Later on, we both bought bikes. Mine was red, hers blue. It was a great little bike.

And then, one night, we were coming home from work. We were on Highway 100. The plastic things on the bike rack that held the bike on, broke.

The bike fell off.

And got run over.

The back wheel was bent, the handlebars were now parallel to (instead of perpendicular to) the front tire. It was fucked.

So, I saved up and in September, I bought a new bike.

Saturday was such a nice day, we went out for a ride. We rode down near where I work. We stopped at Trader Joe's, where I bought a Toblerone bar (I love those things...).

It wasn't until I found the Toblerone tonight that I remembered what else happened yesterday.

We were coming up a hill. It was a bit steep. So I shifted to a lower gear (which is, after all, what they're there for.)

And the rear derailleur gear fucking broke! Came loose, got caught in the chain and the chain guard.

Whisky Tango Foxtrot???

Fortunately, I bought it at Target. They have a 90 day return/whatever policy -- fortunately, they have a guy who fixes bicycles.

He comes in on Tuesdays, so we'll see then if I again have a functional bicycle.

Or if, indeed, God hates me on wheels.
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