200 Miles this Week!
I am so proud of my mileage. Despite a slashed tire, I went for a 30 miler this morning with a dollar bill snugged up against the tube. Ah. Of course, then one of the ride leaders said (less obnoxiously than this): are you facking crazy?! No...you've gotta be high...that dollar bill is gonna burn up!
It didn't, but there is a black imprint on it that looks exactly like the texture of the tube and the tire. Wouldn't THAT have made a good story if it had? Oh, I came scorching into Helen's on Sunday...and when I say scorching, I mean my tire was smoking because I'd set it on fire. CHA!
The tire just made it, and looked ready to really pull in two by the time I got home. Supplies were replenished, patch kit procured and complete bike maintenance was almost attempted.
I can't emphasize enough how much my bike scares me from a technical standpoint. It's not like I'm afraid of machinery, it's just that...well, as a person without a penis, that sort of thing was never expected. Hell, who am I kidding, it was never allowed. Now, now, now, don't get all huffy on me and start calling me slant-viewed feminazi, allow me to explain.
Yesterday, I wanted to change my tire. I had secretly been looking forward to changing it MYSELF, the same way I packed my bike for shipping on the airplane and reassembled it MYSELF on arrival. Grant, my dude down at Helen's, asked me why the pink cages on my white/silver/blue bike, and I told him quite honestly, it's about owning my femininity.
I'm very conscious that when I get passed on the strand, it's mainly dudes. When I pedal in these group rides...I'm mainly rolling along with dudes. Most of the bikes and the gear and the crap you can buy off the rack are geared toward...dudes. Go into a bike store and look around--there is chamois butter right at the check stand (I don't know many women who need or use the stuff unless it's as nipple cream in a braless halter situation, something else I cannot relate to...but I could be wrong), there may be a women's section, but guaranteed there is a larger selection of boy cut stuff, and twice as many choices for men's shoes. It's a lot harder to find women's models for bikes...and having tried both in my size, I can tell you there is a HUGE difference.
Factor in that when I ride I like to go balls out. (Side note: I'm not talking about anatomy here. Balls out or balls to the walls are really two expressions from the industrial age that have to do with the speed of machinery. Something, something, centrifugal force, timing...brass balls in the engine spinning so fast as to be straight out from the piston, or balls to the wall...its means going full bore, not showing off one's testosterone-poisoned anatomy.) Add a pinch of being a lone female in a male dominated field, both in my discipline and in my career. Sum it all up, and you have a mighty bad case of girl feels like a dude too much of the time.
Therefore, pink.
But let me tell you, my pink cages are not about pulling to the side of the road and letting some penis change my flat. My pink cages are about ME having the skills and competence to push the pedals hard, to face down my own suffering and hunger, AND to fix the goddam bike when it needs it. Pink is about me being every damn bit as competent as the dudes and still wanting to feel like a girl at the end of it--taking care of myself, NOT being taken care of.
This was a story about changing my tire and bike maintenance...right? So I'm trying to change my tire yesterday, and keep getting tools taken out of my hands...not because I was doing anything wrong, but just because I was female and they were male. Don't believe me? One of the bois took stuff away from me, just to call his husband over and take care of it, because "I don't do that...he's so butch." Maybe next time I should look more like an angry lesbian so they're afraid to offer help or touch my stuff.
Needless to say, I replaced the tire today, and go figure, the bike store did not stock ANY pink tires. I will have to order them online from Team Estrogen. If any of you still doubt me that most gear in the stores is all about the dudes, the success of an online site like this is proof that my feminazi slant is not too far off base. I'm still a little intimidated by the cables, the crank set and the derailer, but I'm looking forward to solving those problems, too. You see, I may be ordering pink tires, but I have to earn the right to ride on them. Meanwhile, I need some lube.
It didn't, but there is a black imprint on it that looks exactly like the texture of the tube and the tire. Wouldn't THAT have made a good story if it had? Oh, I came scorching into Helen's on Sunday...and when I say scorching, I mean my tire was smoking because I'd set it on fire. CHA!
The tire just made it, and looked ready to really pull in two by the time I got home. Supplies were replenished, patch kit procured and complete bike maintenance was almost attempted.
I can't emphasize enough how much my bike scares me from a technical standpoint. It's not like I'm afraid of machinery, it's just that...well, as a person without a penis, that sort of thing was never expected. Hell, who am I kidding, it was never allowed. Now, now, now, don't get all huffy on me and start calling me slant-viewed feminazi, allow me to explain.
Yesterday, I wanted to change my tire. I had secretly been looking forward to changing it MYSELF, the same way I packed my bike for shipping on the airplane and reassembled it MYSELF on arrival. Grant, my dude down at Helen's, asked me why the pink cages on my white/silver/blue bike, and I told him quite honestly, it's about owning my femininity.
I'm very conscious that when I get passed on the strand, it's mainly dudes. When I pedal in these group rides...I'm mainly rolling along with dudes. Most of the bikes and the gear and the crap you can buy off the rack are geared toward...dudes. Go into a bike store and look around--there is chamois butter right at the check stand (I don't know many women who need or use the stuff unless it's as nipple cream in a braless halter situation, something else I cannot relate to...but I could be wrong), there may be a women's section, but guaranteed there is a larger selection of boy cut stuff, and twice as many choices for men's shoes. It's a lot harder to find women's models for bikes...and having tried both in my size, I can tell you there is a HUGE difference.
Factor in that when I ride I like to go balls out. (Side note: I'm not talking about anatomy here. Balls out or balls to the walls are really two expressions from the industrial age that have to do with the speed of machinery. Something, something, centrifugal force, timing...brass balls in the engine spinning so fast as to be straight out from the piston, or balls to the wall...its means going full bore, not showing off one's testosterone-poisoned anatomy.) Add a pinch of being a lone female in a male dominated field, both in my discipline and in my career. Sum it all up, and you have a mighty bad case of girl feels like a dude too much of the time.
Therefore, pink.
But let me tell you, my pink cages are not about pulling to the side of the road and letting some penis change my flat. My pink cages are about ME having the skills and competence to push the pedals hard, to face down my own suffering and hunger, AND to fix the goddam bike when it needs it. Pink is about me being every damn bit as competent as the dudes and still wanting to feel like a girl at the end of it--taking care of myself, NOT being taken care of.
This was a story about changing my tire and bike maintenance...right? So I'm trying to change my tire yesterday, and keep getting tools taken out of my hands...not because I was doing anything wrong, but just because I was female and they were male. Don't believe me? One of the bois took stuff away from me, just to call his husband over and take care of it, because "I don't do that...he's so butch." Maybe next time I should look more like an angry lesbian so they're afraid to offer help or touch my stuff.
Needless to say, I replaced the tire today, and go figure, the bike store did not stock ANY pink tires. I will have to order them online from Team Estrogen. If any of you still doubt me that most gear in the stores is all about the dudes, the success of an online site like this is proof that my feminazi slant is not too far off base. I'm still a little intimidated by the cables, the crank set and the derailer, but I'm looking forward to solving those problems, too. You see, I may be ordering pink tires, but I have to earn the right to ride on them. Meanwhile, I need some lube.